Years ago, a friend called me out of the blue.

“My friend’s grandma is at hospice. They don’t know how much longer she has. They asked me to come sing to her—will you come with me?”


I don’t remember what I had planned, but I canceled it because the desire to sing to this woman, this grandmother of my friend’s friend, was overwhelming.

I never spoke with her, never looked her in the eyes, and I don’t even remember her name, but I loved her.

It is difficult to explain the feeling. I felt like I had never been so tightly in line with the will of God. It was as if answering this call was essential, as if this particular yes was one of the most important ones I could ever have uttered. I felt God’s love for this little one, this one He was calling home, as if it was tangibly flowing through my veins.

And as we sang, the atmosphere in the room shifted. It was as if the room had been filled with heavy balls of tension and grief and pain and the sound of our voices was popping them one by one.

We weren’t doing anything special and certainly nothing rehearsed. We were looking at the words of hymns on the screen of my friend’s phone. She scrolled with her thumb as we moved through the verses. We sang them the best we could. We loved her, loved the others in the room, loved our God the best we could at that moment. We just sang like we were asked to do. It was God who moved.

And I felt like I glimpsed the Kingdom of Heaven.

I felt like I could reach out and touch it. It is hard to believe in the unseen, but that night I felt like I nearly saw it for myself this side of Heaven. It is a moment I hold tightly to.

So far, it is my favorite earthly moment.

It reminded me—and continues to remind me—of my true home, of Who sits on the throne, of how I have the one thing I need and how it cannot ever be taken away from me.

I have had amazing moments as a mother, as a daughter, as a sister, as a friend. I’ve had brilliant and beautiful moments with brilliant and beautiful people here on this planet.

But none of those people can hold a candle to the light of God. No moment with them can compare to a moment where I felt His realness down to my marrow, a moment I can hold as a testimony to myself when I am doubting, a moment of full assurance the Kingdom is there waiting for me.

My greatest memory on earth is of the moment I felt closest to Heaven.

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Stevie Swift

Stevie is a Jesus follower and single-mom to one crazy-awesome kid. She writes at about being happily single, parenting, and Christianity. You can find her in the Pacific Northwest, putting pineapple on pizza and planning her next adventure, or on the interwebs with  FacebookInstagram, and  Twitter