Letters To Heaven: Mattie Shields

I have heard some say that believing in God and Heaven is a lot like believing in unicorns. I say, what's wrong with believing in unicorns? I would rather live in a world where it's possible for fantastical things to exist than to suffocate under the oppressive idea that "this" is all there is...so, I'm writing letters to Heaven because I have some things to say to those people I love who've gone on to...wherever they go.

Dear Aunt Mattie,

I don't know if you know this, but you have become my directional North. You are the little voice inside my head that whispers to me, "Turn this way," or "Do THAT" or shouts, "Warning! Danger! Danger!" In fact, you even came to me once in a dream to speak to me about the Beast, saying, "You leave that boy alone now, little bluebird. You hear?"

I remember you telling my husband when we got married, "Take good care of my girl. She's your responsibility to look after now." And Lord knows he's tried but I sure don't make it easy.

I miss your stories. You were such an amazing storyteller, fascinating me with the things you'd seen and done in your life. I remember you letting me ride in the wheelbarrow while you went out to cut the faded roses off...the smell of roses still instantly brings you close to me. That has been on my mind a lot, of late, especially with Spring in the air. I will never forget that when I was a child, you always made me feel wanted and you told me that as long as you were alive I'd have a home to come back to. You are responsible for my ideas of what home is supposed to be and they have nothing to do with a place and everything to do with the people who are a part of our lives. You also taught me a lot about what parents ought to be. Once, when I was grown and my girls and I were visiting, we sat in the kitchen and discussed parenting. At that time, my girls were little and I was picking your brain about good parenting.  I commented on how much I appreciated you making me feel safe and at home, even though it wasn't your responsibility. You said, "I raised three generations of this family's children and I didn't take you in because I had to. I took you in because I wanted you."

Growing up in your house, I watched almost everything you did, wanting to emulate you. You spoke kindly to people, even when they didn't deserve it. You were infinitely patient with children making them feel important and loved. I know I asked you hundreds of questions ad nauseum and you always took the time to answer them. I never, once, heard you say a hateful or unkind thing to or about anyone. You also trusted me to know what the "right thing" was to do and to "do that, always". I've frequently made a mess of that over the course of my life and I hope you won't be too disappointed in my failings as you watch over me. I miss you. I promise I will keep pointing my little Compass to directional North, especially when I get lost. I will  never be the kind, amazing person you were, but I'm working on my best facsimile.

                                                                        Always,
                                                                        Your Bluebird

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