My True Inheritance

 "What you sow does not come to life unless it dies." 1 Corinthians 15:36

"Flesh and blood cannot inherit the kingdom of God, nor does the perishable inherit the imperishable." 1 Corinthians 15:50

    There is was, the house I knew so well, standing solemnly in the center of the block, with so many tales to tell. I saw her there, with straight brown hair, the gal that once was me, with red, rubber-tipped sneakers and a band-aid on her knee. With trowel in hand, my mother's among the red stalks of rhubarb, handing over the hapless earthworms to my grubby grasp. 

    With a catch in my throat, a sadness saddled my soul as the now empty house seemed to sigh, as if it knew I had returned to her. Weeds have long replaced the rhubarb patch. The lilac bush I'd given on Mother's Day hung its half-dead boughs over the fence. 'Twas through that portal I first was brought, swaddled in a fleece of pink, and through the same my mother's frame was carried, shrouded on a gurney, my eyes forebear to see. 

    Why do things have to change? Why must good times perish, as the laughter once heard 'round the oak dinner table fades? The faces of my sisters, my father's wavy hair, my mother's merry eyes, these I recall as if I just rose from the table, yet the weeds encroach and the paint peels.

    Though all may seem as dead and gone, the eternal part remains! The seed of the gospel, which is everlasting life in Jesus' name, was planted there through scripture read after dessert and prayers of intercession spoken on my behalf by parents who walked by faith, not by sight. 

    The best is yet to come when I pass through the heavenly portal of pearl and hear the laughter of my loved ones welcoming me. It is there I shall see my Savior face-to-face, never to change, never to perish, never to fade. This is my true inheritance. Hallelujah!

"When the perishable has been clothed with the imperishable, and the mortal with immortality, then the saying that is written will come true: Death has been swallowed up in victory. Where, O death, is your victory? Where, O grave, is your sting?" 1 Corinthians 15: 54, 55