Friday, March 28, 2014
All was lost. There was no more breath. The enemy had ravaged through the land, like locusts, leaving a dry and barren desert. Hurt and bitterness had consumed the sweet rhythms of the heart.
It had been nearly five years since I had heard the laughter of my dear old friend...twelve...since I had seen my sister's smile.
The smell of gunfire still in the air, the enemy had won the battle.
And left only was the ache and the empty space where there was once flesh and blood, flesh and blood made in the image of God. The mind races, loops over the conversations, the ugly words. One tries to zip themselves tight, shut out the memories of kindnesses and rescue...but then a song plays or the scent of Tuberose wafts through...and the heart sinks, the belly turns.
And in the darkness of night there is no rest...
But then on a seemingly average day...a letter arrives in the mail...or a phone call is made...and suddenly there is breath once again... and rivers of heart-washing tears replenish the land. New growth cracks through the hard surface. And where there was death, there is now new life.
I had forgotten about Grace. The miraculous and
transcending magic of Grace. The Grace that means that no one is ever really lost...and that Hope abounds.
My daffodils have been chanting this at me for several weeks now, as they stretch tall through the sea rocks I had scattered above them last September.
I know as they push through the heaviness of the stones, it will make them stronger. And their bright shining faces will turn towards the Son in a grand celebration of life. It's been a long time coming. The winter was cold and dark and had no foreseeable end.
But now I bathe long in the sweetness of forgiveness... the laughter of kindred hearts...what a tender surprise!
And I am reminded of the ridiculous reality of Hope.
Oh sweet Resurrection just never gets old!
I could hear it's story for a thousand years ...
and still want for a thousand more.