Sunday mornings were always challenging when my son was a toddler. The crying would begin as we walked back to the church nursery, and though his class was filled with toys and friends and people who would provide loving care for him, his separation from me would cause stress, fear and sadness. But I left him.
As I worshiped in the adjoining sanctuary I felt I was in the presence of the Lord. I was at peace and I was where I was supposed to be. I knew that my son was missing me, but our time apart would be short. I looked forward to the day he would be old enough to come with me into the sanctuary and we would stand before the Lord together.
I was reminded of these emotions years later when I lost my dad. I was the crying child while he had stepped into God's sanctuary in heaven. At times when I think " I will never see him again" I am reminded that he is where he should be and when the time is right I will join him there. I have shared this analogy on occasion and hope it brings comfort.