Two beautiful women that I know are suffering through terrible journeys right now . . . they are both walking through the valley of the shadow of death; one with her husband, and one with her son. Both men seem too young, too full of life-force to be at this juncture, yet here they are, poised on that precipice between life and death. Both men have placed their faith in God to heal them, and the time has come where it appears that God will heal them through translating them from this world to the next; they will receive no physical healing here on this earth.
There is nothing poetic or metaphorical in their suffering; their bodily systems are shutting down, their organs failing to function, hospice is present with one as his time appears to be imminent. My mind reels when I try to touch the edge of this reality with my imagination, my stomach jumps into my throat; I grieve for these friends of mine as they watch their men slipping away from them.
I pray for God to strengthen my girlfriends as they tend to their loved ones, physical strength, emotional strength, mental strength . . . and strength of faith. It all comes down to this for each of us eventually . . . it is appointed unto man once to die . . . but it seems that we spend our lives trying to avoid acknowledging this fact, making it even more difficult when the reality of it becomes unavoidable.
I simply cannot imagine preparing to lose my husband, or my son. And though I don't fear my own death, I wonder how I will be when I'm actually facing it. Whenever I've thought of Sandy and Al or Suzan and Michael these past few days, I've tried to soften my voice as I speak to my loved ones, I've been more intentional in reaching out to touch them with my hands. Though I am not walking their road right now, I want to honor their struggle by doing what I know they would do if they had more time, what I know they are doing with the time they have left.
Life here is short . . . too short to keep records of wrongs - real or imagined - in our relationships. Too short for me to insist on having my way, or the last word. Too short to make mountains out of molehills, catastrophes out of inconveniences, offenses out of oversights, biographies out of isolated episodes or permanent records of words spoken carelessly, or out of pain and anger.
We fail each other, we all do. Humanly though, we are all we have. God tells us to love each other as He loves us - completely, without reserve or hesitation, without regard for return on our investment. We are not to sum each other up, nor render evaluations of one another - that is reserved for Him alone, for He alone sees clearly, without distortion, misinformation or misguided emotions.
He knows our frame, He remembers that we are but dust. The word of God refers to our life as a vapor, or as the grass of the field, here today and gone tomorrow. Think of the millions who have gone before us . . . the many who will pass today . . . the transition from this life to the next is on each of our timelines . . . not having a specific date doesn't negate that it is there.
So spend some time today thinking about when you leave this planet; what will happen to you? Can you know? How can you find out? Is there a God that you will answer to, and if so, what do you need to do to prepare to meet Him? And how would He have you spend the time He has given you here? Search out the answers - they are too important to ignore. SO much more important than our many plans for our education, our prosperity, our vacations, our (fill-in-the-blank-here).
And be gentle, loving and filled with grace as you touch the lives of the fellow human beings in your world . . . we're all trying to make sense of life as we go . . . let's try to help each other along . . .
By the way, I love you, fellow sojourner.
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