But immediately after returning to heaven, she imagined there might be a period appropriated for some "Q & A" about the tough-to-answer questions here on earth. Specifically, she envisioned a large space, like maybe an auditorium, with different stations all categorized so you could get in line to obtain whatever sort of knowledge you sought. For instance, if you were amazed by the universe and all its incredible parts, and wanted to know more, you line up at table #1. At table #2, you might get answers to questions such as "why did God invent mosquitoes?" I've pictured Mom since she passed away, lining up to wait for answers to her questions, and I've wondered what kinds of answers she's getting!
Another funny thing she thought about life after death is that we would get to join "committees" to watch over, protect, or put ourselves into whatever corner of creation interests us. I remember her saying once on a rainy day as we looked at a rainbow over the mountains, how fun it would be to join the rainbow committee. I know she would have loved to be on the puppy committee, or any other cuddly animal committee. But not long before she died, Mom told a good family friend that she would be joining the butterfly committee very soon. This thoughtful friend had these tiles made for us the week mom died, so this is displayed in my home:
On Mother's Day morning, my family met up with my dad, Emily and Dave, and Adam and Andrea's family at the cemetery to remember and honor our mom. It was really a happy visit; the cemetery was beautiful and it was such a pretty day. The kids were exploring and the adults were visiting when suddenly someone spotted a big, fancy, yellow-and-black butterfly zip past us on the breeze. It landed on a tree just near Mom's headstone and watched us for a while. Someone commented about Mom and the butterfly committee, and I wondered if she had sent this one to be a part of us in her stead that morning. Either way, I felt like she was close by and that she was happy to see us all getting together, business as usual, no sadness or tears. That would have pleased her. I love that kind of sweet, ordinary, ever-day miracle our Heavenly Father uses to show us we are special to Him and He knows what we are going through. Love you, Mom, and miss you. Thank you, butterfly, for coming to be with us that morning. It made for a very special Mother's Day moment.
