Tonight during family devotionals, one of my kids hit me with a question I really WAS NOT ready for…

We were all sitting on their bedroom floor, and they were asking questions about heaven.

Then one of them asked me…

“How old is our brother or sister in heaven? Like… are they growing up without us?”

And to be HONEST, it stopped me for a minute.

They were talking about the baby Cara and I lost around nine years ago.

It was early. So early that we never saw a heartbeat.

Never heard a cry. Never held a hand.

But we were already parents the moment we knew that baby existed.

And we felt it when they were gone.

We didn’t have a name…

We didn’t have a memorial…

We barely had time to grieve before life moved forward.

Cara and I walked through that miscarriage quietly, privately.

We didn’t know how to grieve something that ended before it really began.

But the ache never fully went away. 

It felt invisible. Quiet. Unfinished.

And now, years later, our kids—who’ve never met that sibling—feel the same thing we’ve felt all along…

There’s someone missing.

“Are they growing up without us?”

I’ve asked some of my own similar questions in my heart a hundred times. 

The world kept moving. Ministry didn’t stop. Life kept going.

And for years, I just didn’t have a good answer.

It’s a fair question.

And if you ONLY see time the way we do here on Earth, it’s a heartbreaking one.

But that’s when tonight, I shared something with my kids that’s brought me comfort over the years—

…and maybe it’ll bring you comfort too.

 “With the Lord a day is like a thousand years, and a thousand years are like a day.” — 2 Peter 3:8

Let’s do the math.

If 1 heavenly day = 1,000 Earth years,

Then 1 Earth year = about 1.44 heavenly minutes.

So if it’s been 9 years here on Earth since the miscarriage?

That’s just 13 minutes in heaven.

From our perspective, we’ve lived nearly a decade without that child.

But from their side?

We just stepped out of the room…

To put it in perspective—

Let’s say I live to be 100 years old before I die and go to heaven. (Fingers crossed🤞🏻I should probably lay off the bacon…) 

That’s a full life here RIGHT?

But in heaven? According to 2 Peter 3:8…

That’s just 2 hours and 24 minutes.

And somehow—not only are we HERE, living this life—but we’re also, in that moment, already THERE.

Our child isn’t growing up without us.

They aren’t missing birthday parties or wondering where we are.

I don’t believe they were placed in the arms of some heavenly stranger…

I don’t think there’s an angel assigned to watch them grow up…

I don’t think they were raised in a room full of children whose parents never showed up…

I believe that the moment they were laid down in the nursery of heaven’s hospital…

Cara, our kids, and I were already walking down the hallway to pick them up.

It’s not that the pain here isn’t real. It is.

It’s not that the years don’t feel long. They do.

But heaven isn’t on our timeline.

And that gives me hope.

Because I believe…

—Our child wasn’t raised by angels.

—They weren’t left wondering where Mom and Dad were.

—They weren’t scared or alone.

They are being held…

Loved.

And kept safe—

By US, somehow…

And from the moment they opened their eyes…

we were already on the way.

If you’ve lost a child—through miscarriage, stillbirth, or tragedy…

Or a maybe your significant other or parent…

I hope this helps you breathe a little deeper today.

I think SOMEHOW, eternity overlaps with NOW, and your child or loved one isn’t waiting alone in some future moment…

They’re already experiencing reunion, even as you live this out day by day missing them HERE, They aren’t missing you THERE. 

BECAUSE….

You may feel like you’ve missed a lifetime.

But from heaven’s perspective?

You’ve only been gone a few minutes.

And you are almost home. —PZ