On Earth as in Ireland, Pt. 0

Part 0 (The Dream) — Part 1 (The Fog) — Part 2 (The Hike) — Part 3 (The Colors) — Part 4 ( The Flu) — Part 5 (The Flowers) — Part 6 (The Cathedrals) — Part 7 (The Rest)

I remember laughing more than I probably should. It’s never a good idea to laugh at your wife when she’s telling you about all the deep-rooted emotions that came out during a counseling session. Cassie had just told me that to help with her anxiety, she was told to imagine herself in a “happy place”—a place where she could find peace and rest and joy, even if it wasn’t real. The happy place she conjured up had a golden twilit ambience, with gardens and greenery all around. She imagined friends there laughing and enjoying themselves. Cassie was told to give it a name. So what name did my brilliant, creative, witty, inventive wife think of to name her happy place? She called it [insert drum-roll for suspense] Ireland.

Yup. Out of all the names she could’ve made up, out of all the names she could’ve picked, she just chose the name of the place we were planning to go to in 4 months anyways—Ireland.

We laughed together. I laughed harder than she did. After a couple moments of jokes she explained why she could only think of “Ireland.” It was a place she could put her hope in. It was a place she could dream about. It was full of life—natural life, life of a people she wanted to know, and of life she wanted to live with her friends. It was a place that would deliver her from the stress that was wearing her down. It was a place that was radically different from all the places she had known. And it was hope in those things that made her want to bring it into her day-to-day life. Just the thought of those qualities gave her comfort when she was anxious.

She admitted she was creating an Ireland that wasn’t realistic. It wasn’t realistic to believe we would be walking around in awe the entire time. It wasn’t realistic to think that we wouldn’t have any conflict with our friends while spending 11 days in close quarters with them. It wasn’t realistic to think that just going to some other part of the globe would resolve every trouble laid on her heart. But even if it wasn’t reasonable, it was hers. It was her Ireland.

It was an ideal she could reflect on when reality was too difficult to think about. It was an image that she could conjure when looking at the world around her was painful. Her Ireland was what she wanted her life to be like, so she tried to shape her home and her lifestyle into its image. Her Ireland was a picture of heaven.

When we try to imagine heaven, we are left drawing up vague scenes, ambiguous snapshots of what it will be like based on a few short (mostly figurative) verses from God’s Word. We know there will be life and light, peace and joy, God’s handiwork on glorious display, with a loving God there to wipe away our tears if ever there were any. And guess what, Cassie’s Ireland had all that and more. She just put it in perspective for me to see. She tied it to a future we could dream about together then and to a place where I can dream of her being now.

With a heart still aching, I decided to go to the real Ireland, though I knew it could be difficult without her. Since I trust that Cassie gets to go to her Ireland still, never having to have her image of it warped by reality, it only seems right to go see my Ireland—the one where the sun rarely shines through the clouds and where cold winds still blow, where disagreements can still happen and where grief can still take the place of joy. But I went knowing that wherever on Earth I go, I can still close my eyes, begin to pray like Cassie did, like Jesus did, that what happens in Cassie’s Ireland might still happen in mine.

Part 0 (The Dream) — Part 1 (The Fog) — Part 2 (The Hike) — Part 3 (The Colors) — Part 4 ( The Flu) — Part 5 (The Flowers) — Part 6 (The Cathedrals) — Part 7 (The Rest)