This thought of heaven has been on my mind for the past two months. I think it started when I found out about my third surgery and its possible complication—serious enough to make me worry. The procedure’s name is made up of nine long, intimidating words.

I was scared of the familiar post-surgery pain—the excruciating headache, the long sleepless nights, the kind of pain no one else understands but God. I cried about it for a few nights.

I longed for heaven—a place with no sickness, no pain, no hurt, no mortgages, no bugs, and none of the petty problems we deal with day after day.

I even created a playlist of ‘Heaven Songs’ on Spotify because of this deep longing.

Lord, can I just be in that perfect place already?

I’m not talking about wanting death—just the promised eternal life. (Though, yes, physical death is necessary for that.)

After much reflection during the long two-month wait before my elective surgery, I started feeling a bit selfish—wanting heaven was just for me. I haven’t even fulfilled my purpose here on earth, whatever that may be. But I knew, just as I did after my first surgery first surgery, that God would no doubt bring me through this because Marco’s and my story isn’t finished yet.

I think I was also being a coward (and lazy), not wanting to face the world anymore. Having pain and still carrying the responsibility to get back to work, among other things—it was a bit too much. But I know that feeling is exactly what the enemy wants, and I should fight against it.

One day, I know I will get to heaven—and I have JESUS to thank for that. For now, I must carry on and be a little braver.

// Photo of me by Hazel, Karekare Beach, New Zealand, 15th October 2018.