I don’t know everything about the other side.

I don’t know what Steven sees right now, what heaven looks like, or what it’s like to stand in the presence of God. But I know what God promised, and I’m holding on to that promise with everything I have.

The Bible tells me there will be no more pain, no more tears, no more death. God’s light will shine so brightly that there won’t even be a need for the sun. The streets will be gold, and the things that hurt us here won’t follow us there.

And sometimes I sit here on Earth and wonder what that must be like.

Because I’m still here, in this earthly body, living in a world that keeps moving even when my heart feels like it has stopped. I’m still raising our babies, still learning how to live without the man I thought I’d grow old with, still trying to understand a life that looks nothing like the one I imagined.

But somewhere beyond what my eyes can see, there is a spiritual world I can only imagine through the promises of God.

And I find hope in that.

I think about how I’m here praising God through my tears, and I wonder about Steven praising God in a place where there are no tears left to cry. I’m here worshipping through the pain, and I hold on to the hope that he is experiencing the peace I’ve been praying for.

I’m still on this side, where faith means trusting what I cannot see. And if Steven is in the presence of the Lord, then he’s experiencing what I can only read about and hope for.

And maybe that’s one of the most beautiful things about believing in God.

Even though we’re no longer standing beside each other on this Earth, we both belong to the same Creator. The same God who hears my prayers here is the God who holds eternity in His hands. When I lift my hands in worship, I’m reaching toward the One who made us both.

I can’t see Steven. I can’t hear his voice singing beside me. I can’t watch him dance around the house or hear him make me laugh the way he always did.

But I can still praise the God who gave me him.

And when I praise God, I’m reminded that my earthly life and the eternity I hope for are not two separate stories. They’re both held by the same God.

I don’t know exactly what Steven is experiencing. I won’t pretend to know every mystery of heaven. But I know God knows Steven’s heart in a way no human being ever could.

God knew his struggles. He knew his good days and his bad days. He knew the battles he fought inside himself, the love he had for his children, and the parts of his heart that not everybody got to see.

And I trust God with what I cannot understand.

I know Steven believed in God. And I believe God’s mercy is greater than my ability to understand His plans.

So I will keep praising Him here.

I’ll praise Him while I’m raising our five babies. I’ll praise Him when the house feels too quiet. I’ll praise Him when I miss Steven so much that I don’t know what to do with all the love I still have for him.

I’ll praise Him when I have questions, when I feel lost, and when faith is the only thing I have left to hold on to.

Because my hope isn’t that I can explain the spiritual world. My hope is in Jesus Christ, who conquered death and promised eternal life.

And maybe one day, when I stand before God myself, I’ll finally understand the things I can only wonder about right now.

Until then, I’m here on Earth, and Steven is in God’s hands.

I’m still learning how to live in this world without him, while holding on to the hope that this world isn’t all there is.

And when I worship here, I can find comfort in knowing that the God I’m praising is greater than the distance between Earth and heaven.

I may not know what Steven sees, but I know the One who sees him.

I may not know what Steven hears, but I know the One who hears every prayer I whisper.

And I may not know what the other side looks like, but I know the promise Jesus gave us.

No more pain. No more death. No more tears.

Just the light of God.

And until I know that light for myself, I’ll keep looking for Him here.

Because I loved Steven here on Earth, and I will carry that love for the rest of my earthly life.

And I will keep my hope in the God who holds both of us, trusting that His story is bigger than the part I can see.

I’m here, Lord, praising You through my tears. And I pray that, wherever Steven is in Your eternal plan, Your love and mercy surround him. Until the day I stand before You, help me keep my eyes on You.

Amen.