Last Sunday at church, there was a newborn baby girl the row in front of us. Brand-new: red and a little wrinkly and looking like she just woke up from the hardest nap of all time.
…which I guess she had.
As little as she was, she kept looking back at Matthew like she knew him. Trying to make eye contact so that she could tell him something.
I knew what she was trying to say.
**giant disclaimer before continuing. GIANT. We are not going to have a baby anytime soon**
When we were dating, for some reason, Matthew and I had this silly discussion about heaven. I was probably implying something hideously mushy like will we still know each other after we die…? is this burning an eternal flaaaame? He said that in heaven, we’re all just spirits, like gasses, floating around.
Which to me sounded, well, underwhelming. And not at all mushy.
So to get him back, I said that I thought that when we were in heaven the first time (Matthew: “What do you mean ‘the first time’?”), we were babies playing around waiting our turn to come down. Yes, I know that sounds dumb, and very much like something Anne Geddes would like to photograph. I wish I could forget that conversation ever happened.
Instead, it became this weird joke for us. I’ll interject the phrase, “when we were babies in heaven, just rolling around and laughing…” and he’ll get this look on his face like who the freak did I marry and why didn’t I heed the warning and then he’ll just laugh and shake his head.
So this baby at church? Giving Matthew that blank-eyed baby stare? She was trying to send him a message. She’d been playing in heaven with our babies! They said to tell him hello! They want to come visit soon!
I told him this during (I’m sure) a really inappropriate time in the service. He wrinkled his brow and pretended to read the bulletin.