Grieving

I can remember her handwriting. 

Every time she signed their assignment notebooks where I had scrawled out their night's homework assignments, she would sign it with these really loopy letters.  Almost bubble-like. 

I also have 3 or 4 Christmas ornaments that hang on my tree each year that she gave me as teacher presents.  And I still have a couple of candles that were part of the gifts. 

One of the baby outfits that was my favorite of Keaton's was given to us by her.  It's been in his baby box since he outgrew it almost 10 years ago.

And now I'm going through my house looking for the things that hold little reminders of her.  A bookmark that was signed by her.  A picture drawn by her daughter when she was in my preschool class.  A scrapbook of my teaching days which holds pictures of her at various school events.

Because last night her earthly body failed her.  And today her new and perfect body is dancing with Jesus. 

I taught at the same private Christian School for almost a decade.  And I had the privilege of teaching every one of {Sarah's} children.  Some of them multiple times.  And it was just that...a privilege.

{Sarah} was a beautiful, soft-spoken woman.  She was always laughing.  Always smiling.  It always made me giggle that even years after I had taught her children, I was still "Mrs. _____" when she saw me out in public.  Never just "Amber."  I used to joke with her that even in Heaven, when we'd meet on the Streets of Gold, she'd greet me with "Mrs."

And now she's gone.

And I'm having a strange time processing it all.  I'm grieving for that blessed woman that I used to know so well, but haven't seen in ages.  I'm grieving for those sweet angel babies who have lost their mama, but their faces are still those of the ones that used to sit in the desks of my classroom.

And I'm sad.

Very very sad.

And am looking forward to the day when I can hug her neck in Heaven, and hear her say, "Well, Mrs. ___, so glad you finally made it!"


** Please please please lift up {Sarah's} family to our Jesus.  I cannot imagine their grief and anguish at this hour, but I do know that our Lord is holding them close.