By Ashlie Miller

Nothing enhances gentle breezes like a set of wind chimes on the porch. Usually, they are a lovely sound, but one day recently, they proved to be a tangled mass of brokenness needing gentle hands.

Mom died three years ago this past Friday, and grief is ever-present, seeking to appear at the most unsuspecting times. My brother told me a story of processing grief while listening to wind chimes — some given to him as a memorial to our mother. He lives in the N.C. mountains, and breezes are a refreshing part of the day. However, one evening, the wind must have been more aggressive, taking the cords and chimes and whipping them together in a tangled mess. The sight was unseemly, and the sound was broken and disheveled.

Patiently, my brother unwound the cords, untwisting the metal wrapped haphazardly together, prompting tears to come to his eyes. He felt God speaking to him through the moment, reminding him that He had done the same thing for our mother. She had lived firmly and faithfully through her cancer journey the last few years. But even with a smile, she was still wrecked and ruined — her melody limited in her time here on earth. God relieved her earthly sufferings.

Not only is she now free from the encumberments of a broken and fallen earth, filled with sin, sickness and disease, but she is also free of the things we may think we brought upon her. I imagine many children, perhaps many loved ones, have certain regrets when a loved one passes. There may be regrets of not spending enough time, words spoken or words not spoken, memories of childhood rebellions or adult neglect in a relationship — earthly (temporal) things that seem to fill up our days that turn into years that turn into a lifetime of remorse and sadness. It is a weight we wonder if they continue to carry as we wrestle with it ourselves.

Sometimes, survivors can feel an unnecessary burden or prolonged guilt and regret for missed opportunities or years. However, for the Christian who has passed from this life to eternity, all those memories and brokenness are erased — untangled. God is the master who gently takes the tangled, mangled mess, lovingly unfolding it into something beautiful and free to make an everlasting song.

My brother successfully unwrapped the chimes, free to listen to the music in the wind again. He is growing to be free and untangle himself of regrets and missed opportunities.

When tempted to live in sorrowful grief and regret, we can remember that the awesomeness of God’s glory is beyond anything temporal when we are in eternity. His majesty, grace and love will consume all our thoughts and desires. He promises to wipe away our tears and do away with death, mourning, crying and pain — the many things related to our earthly lives (Revelation 21:4). I am not sure how God will do that, but I am so thankful that He not only does that for us one day but that He also does that for our loved ones who have preceded us in death into eternal life.

Ashlie Miller and her husband raise their five children in Concord. You may contact her at mrs.ashliemiller@gmail.com.