Cancer Faith Grief

I Was Jealous Of My Sister In Heaven

I Was Jealous Of My Sister In Heaven www.herviewfromhome.com
Written by Harmony Vuycankiat

My sister was 34-years-old when she passed away from metastatic breast cancer. She fiercely fought the battle for her life for 3 years before she had no fight left. She got to leave this place called earth and soar on eagle’s wings to her heavenly home.

Her recent absence has caused me to reflect on the pain of this thing called life. What I’ve finally come to is this: I’m jealous. Honestly, there are some days when I can’t handle the harsh reality of this fallen world anymore. I want to be flying high above the horizon away from the cobwebs and dust mites that cover my ceiling.

It’s just so confining here. Our time is limited. Our space is restricted. Tomorrow comes before we’re ready for today to end. And I’m tired.

I don’t wish cancer on my worst enemy. It’s debilitating in its effects on those watching the horrendous scene unfold on a loved one’s body. But did you know that the way we process the pain of what has happened can be a testimony of God’s goodness to someone else?

This is hard for me to digest right now. I don’t want to be here. I’m ready to sing hallelujah to the King for the rest of my days as I dance on the wings of a cloud. But I AM HERE.

I have to take my time on this planet seriously. For the sake of all those who have been victimized by the relentless foe called cancer. We have to keep sight of why we are still here. I know that my sister wouldn’t want me to long for heaven so much that I miss the point of being on earth. I’m alive.

This means I still have a mission field. I guess you could say that those who have left us fulfilled their mission already. They did what they were put here to do. And God said, “Yes. You completed the work I gave you. Come be with me so your suffering can end.”

I don’t know why my sister had to leave her husband and daughter. I can’t explain why some die from cancer and some live until a well-worn age. But I do know that illness and death give us each an opportunity to take a hard look at our lives.

I can sit still and remain inactive as I covet those that have gone before me to the glory land. Or I can get moving and choose to live every moment with the knowledge that my time here is short. Right now each day feels hauntingly long because of the hole in my heart from my sister’s death. But really, heaven is a blink away.

When I think about it like that, my envy turns into urgency as I realize all that I want to witness before He calls me home. I want to see my children grow into passionate, on-fire adults for the cause of Christ. I want to see my husband fulfill his dreams and be used to bless the lives of others through his story. I want to see my nieces grow into strong and mighty women that make a difference in this world. I want to see the nations come to Christ as revival sweeps the land. I WANT TO BE A PART OF WHAT GOD IS DOING IN THE EARTH.

So I’d be missing out if I lose sight of the big picture. Eternity is already happening in my heart right now. I’m just visiting this foreign land because my citizenship is really in paradise. The Bible even says in Hebrews 13:14, “For here we do not have a lasting city, but we are seeking the city which is to come.”

That verse makes me more excited than ever because it gives me hope. Hope that I’m not going to be stuck here on this dark planet forever. Some people think that the end is just that. But I’m so glad that in Christ, it’s only the beginning.

About the author

Harmony Vuycankiat

Harmony is a proud Air Force wife and blessed mother of 4 children. Her heart’s cry is to love without limits and live without regrets. She plans to use her criminal justice degree to tangibly help marginalized women and children all over the world. Writing, singing, and running are her methods of soul therapy and Starbucks coffee is her happy juice. The quote that she lives by is, “When I stand before God at the end of my life, I would hope that I would not have a single bit of talent left and could say ‘I’ve used everything you gave me.’ ” (Erma Bombeck)