It's been several days since I've last written here... well, several days since I've written anywhere, really. The last week or so has been filled with a tremendous sadness as I wonder whether this will be the last Christmas with a few of my loved ones. There have been joyful moments, too, and I am very grateful for the presence of a dear friend visiting my husband's family and my family both over these Holy Days.
Still, the shadow of grief continues to hover. Sometimes it looms large and ominous, covering everything with a bluish-black hue. Other times the shadow is a hint on the corner of my eye, just far enough out of my direct sight not to impede my vision, but lingering in the periphery nonetheless. I am always aware of its presence.
It has been said that the thing that sets humans apart from other animals and plants is the knowledge of and contemplation regarding our own mortality (and that of others). I am not convinced that we are alone in such knowledge. I've seen enough pets near death to see such knowledge in their eyes and have felt their spirits reaching out much as ours often do in our final days, weeks and months.
Part of me often wonders about the plants that You have created. Do they have some sense of self-awareness? This is a question I don't think any of us can answer for certain. One thing that is certain, though, is that the blooming flowers are with us one moment and the next are returning to the earth from which they sprang forth. New life often comes up out of the soil in the very same spot, sometimes right away, sometimes after a great deal of time has passed.
 |
| Photo by Trista Wynne |
The return of the flower to the earth is a vital part of the eco-cycle. The new plants receive nourishment from the plants which have grown before. And the petals and leaves which now line the earth give the little seedlings much needed protection against the elements until they are able to branch out on their own.
This evening, Beloved, I have a particular loved one on my mind. I feel their spirit waning, ebbing from this life and preparing for Life Eternal within You. It is very difficult to prepare to release them, Beloved. I want to hang on, to hold them, to cling tightly and not ever let go.
And yet...
And yet I know this is all part of the life cycle.
Birth, life, death, rebirth -- we all experience it.
But having not yet reached the time of my own death, nor of my rebirth, I struggle to see the blessing.
Draw near, Beloved, and bring me comfort this night.
It is said that You are near to the brokenhearted and saving those crushed in spirit. May this be true for me, and for all who are experiencing the deep shadows of watching loved ones deal with Alzheimer's and cancer. Either of the two are terrible on their own. Together, though, it is almost more than I can bear to watch at times. This is one of those times.
Dear One, Beloved, come and be a healing salve upon my heart, mind and body tonight.
In Jesus' name,
Amen.
No comments:
Post a Comment