A Glimpse of Heaven
Corinne Joy Berndtson
November 15, 1999 -
November 14, 2003
To Corinne Joy Berndtson, forever my daughter,
A glimpse of Heaven is what I saw, when I first looked into your eyes.
They say that in Heaven everything is better than we can imagine. I believe that, I really do. But
in Heaven I also believe your smile and the eyes that spoke volumes will be exactly the same.
He could not improve on perfection and though your body will be whole, you will dance, and
laugh and sing…those two things I believe God will leave exactly as I remember them…
The song we played at your service, “In my daughter’s eyes”…I told someone it was as if the writer had
stolen thoughts from my own heart. “In my daughter’s eyes I am a hero, strong and wise, I know no
fear…” “but the truth is plain to see, she was sent to rescue me…” Cori, you rescued your mommy. You
really did. I look back on the days and months before you were conceived and then the transformation
that took place when I found out I was pregnant and again the day you were born and I saw you for
the first time. Jesus rescued my soul. But you, darling blond, and sparkly girl, you saved my heart.
Many people ask, why would a loving God take a child? Why would a caring Father empty the arms of
his beloved children of their beloved child? I know this side of Heaven I may never know the answer as
to why, after ten years of waiting and of learning to accept that I would never bear a child, He would
bless me with you. Why, then you would have so many physical and medical problems. Why I would
never see you crawl, sit up or walk. Why I would never hear those words from your lips I so longed to
hear: “I love you mommy.”
I read once that He’ll do whatever it takes to save His children. If I had the talent, I would paint a
picture of what I saw in my mind’s eye when Grandma Sharrie relayed a story from a book called One
Minute After Death of a possible answer to those mind bending, heart wrenching questions. The
painting would have a grassy plain and a rocky, steep mountainside. Up at the top of the mountain,
viewable only to those looking at the picture, but not those painted in the picture, would be more
grass, longer, greener with a clear stream running through it. The shepherd and his flock are at the
basin. He knows that the land they are on has little food left to sustain them. He knows they need to
be on higher ground. He knows, but they don’t. He attempts up the mountain, but they don’t come.
Even the dog can’t get them to budge. So, he bends down into the flock and under one arm scoops
up a baby lamb, and into his other arm scoops another. Then he begins up the same mountainside.
The rocks are still there, it is still steep, and to the sheep who still can’t see what lies ahead, it is still an
unknown, and an unknown is scary. But then the first mother breaks ahead of the herd and begins to
follow the shepherd, and the second mother follows her, for the shepherd has their babies in his arms,
and where they go, the mother must follow. Soon, others join behind the mothers. Fathers, aunts,
uncles, friends and neighbors…all up the mountain to the grassy place that none can see, but they will
go…because of the two little lambs.
You, my sweet miracle of God, you, who only lived on this earth for four years, are my lamb. And the
Good Shepherd now has you in His arms. And you are in the land of milk and honey. God’s beautiful
garden. And you are smiling. And you are playing. And you are dancing for His glory. And you are
waiting. For me. And for Daddy. And for your grandmas, grandpas, aunts and uncles, cousins and
friends. The whys are still unanswered, but it doesn’t matter anymore. Only one thing matters. I am
coming. Because like David said in 2 Samuel, I am going to where you are, because you cannot be
where I am. I don’t know when, but I am coming, Cori Joy, and when I do, please open the gates for
Mommy, hold my hand and take me to meet my Jesus.
Corinne Joy Berndtson
November 15, 1999 -
November 14, 2003
To Corinne Joy Berndtson, forever my daughter,
A glimpse of Heaven is what I saw, when I first looked into your eyes.
They say that in Heaven everything is better than we can imagine. I believe that, I really do. But
in Heaven I also believe your smile and the eyes that spoke volumes will be exactly the same.
He could not improve on perfection and though your body will be whole, you will dance, and
laugh and sing…those two things I believe God will leave exactly as I remember them…
The song we played at your service, “In my daughter’s eyes”…I told someone it was as if the writer had
stolen thoughts from my own heart. “In my daughter’s eyes I am a hero, strong and wise, I know no
fear…” “but the truth is plain to see, she was sent to rescue me…” Cori, you rescued your mommy. You
really did. I look back on the days and months before you were conceived and then the transformation
that took place when I found out I was pregnant and again the day you were born and I saw you for
the first time. Jesus rescued my soul. But you, darling blond, and sparkly girl, you saved my heart.
Many people ask, why would a loving God take a child? Why would a caring Father empty the arms of
his beloved children of their beloved child? I know this side of Heaven I may never know the answer as
to why, after ten years of waiting and of learning to accept that I would never bear a child, He would
bless me with you. Why, then you would have so many physical and medical problems. Why I would
never see you crawl, sit up or walk. Why I would never hear those words from your lips I so longed to
hear: “I love you mommy.”
I read once that He’ll do whatever it takes to save His children. If I had the talent, I would paint a
picture of what I saw in my mind’s eye when Grandma Sharrie relayed a story from a book called One
Minute After Death of a possible answer to those mind bending, heart wrenching questions. The
painting would have a grassy plain and a rocky, steep mountainside. Up at the top of the mountain,
viewable only to those looking at the picture, but not those painted in the picture, would be more
grass, longer, greener with a clear stream running through it. The shepherd and his flock are at the
basin. He knows that the land they are on has little food left to sustain them. He knows they need to
be on higher ground. He knows, but they don’t. He attempts up the mountain, but they don’t come.
Even the dog can’t get them to budge. So, he bends down into the flock and under one arm scoops
up a baby lamb, and into his other arm scoops another. Then he begins up the same mountainside.
The rocks are still there, it is still steep, and to the sheep who still can’t see what lies ahead, it is still an
unknown, and an unknown is scary. But then the first mother breaks ahead of the herd and begins to
follow the shepherd, and the second mother follows her, for the shepherd has their babies in his arms,
and where they go, the mother must follow. Soon, others join behind the mothers. Fathers, aunts,
uncles, friends and neighbors…all up the mountain to the grassy place that none can see, but they will
go…because of the two little lambs.
You, my sweet miracle of God, you, who only lived on this earth for four years, are my lamb. And the
Good Shepherd now has you in His arms. And you are in the land of milk and honey. God’s beautiful
garden. And you are smiling. And you are playing. And you are dancing for His glory. And you are
waiting. For me. And for Daddy. And for your grandmas, grandpas, aunts and uncles, cousins and
friends. The whys are still unanswered, but it doesn’t matter anymore. Only one thing matters. I am
coming. Because like David said in 2 Samuel, I am going to where you are, because you cannot be
where I am. I don’t know when, but I am coming, Cori Joy, and when I do, please open the gates for
Mommy, hold my hand and take me to meet my Jesus.
Down he stooped and raised a lambkin
"Twas the baby of the flock
Bore it safely o'er the water
Oh! This time they didn't mock
For the mother quickly followed
One by one the others came
And the shepherd, he was happy
For his work was not in vain
I am sure you see the picture
In my little story true
For the sheep are like the sinner
Oh, the sheep are just like you
And the lamb, the darling baby
Oh! It was your hope and pride
God the Shepherd bore it over
Safely to the other side
He would have you trust in Jesus
May His work not be in vain
He would have you meet your baby
At His coming back again
-Author Unknown
"Twas the baby of the flock
Bore it safely o'er the water
Oh! This time they didn't mock
For the mother quickly followed
One by one the others came
And the shepherd, he was happy
For his work was not in vain
I am sure you see the picture
In my little story true
For the sheep are like the sinner
Oh, the sheep are just like you
And the lamb, the darling baby
Oh! It was your hope and pride
God the Shepherd bore it over
Safely to the other side
He would have you trust in Jesus
May His work not be in vain
He would have you meet your baby
At His coming back again
-Author Unknown
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In the suburb of a city
In a place we little crave
In a spot that's not much noticed
Lies a very tiny grave
Just a little bud of promise
Just a precious little pearl
But it vanished like a vapor
Gone - a lovely baby girl
Gone from earth, yes, gone forever
Gone to bloom in Heaven above
Never seeing sin nor sorrow
Never knowing aught but love
Why? We cannot tell the reason
Others have their joys complete
But it brings to mind a story
Which I willingly repeat
'Twas a shepherd in the country
coming with his sheep one day
He had tried but could not get them
O'er the stream which crossed the way
He had tried in every manner
All his effort seemed in vain
When another thought had struck him
"I will try-just once again"
In a place we little crave
In a spot that's not much noticed
Lies a very tiny grave
Just a little bud of promise
Just a precious little pearl
But it vanished like a vapor
Gone - a lovely baby girl
Gone from earth, yes, gone forever
Gone to bloom in Heaven above
Never seeing sin nor sorrow
Never knowing aught but love
Why? We cannot tell the reason
Others have their joys complete
But it brings to mind a story
Which I willingly repeat
'Twas a shepherd in the country
coming with his sheep one day
He had tried but could not get them
O'er the stream which crossed the way
He had tried in every manner
All his effort seemed in vain
When another thought had struck him
"I will try-just once again"
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