“It wasn’t so long ago that you were mired in that old stagnant life of sin. You let the world, which doesn’t know the first thing about living, tell you how to live. You filled your lungs with polluted unbelief, and then exhaled disobedience.” (Eph 2:1-2)
Stepping onto the plane, she had no idea the outcome of the weekend. Her mind wrestled, twisted. Her heart, darkened and heavy, filled with foreboding at what lay ahead. As wet leaves suffocate the verdant grass, so doubt and questions seemed to strangle her life. Was there any hope of resuscitation? She didn’t want just to return to her old normal life; there had to be more. “Oh God!” she wanted to cry out, more out of desperation than faith, “Where is the meaning in this? Is there more to life than this?” If not, then the twisted, hopeless situation would surely threaten to overwhelm her, leaving her bare and naked. Life had been hitting her squarely in the gut leaving her breathless, hurting, and writhing.
Finding her seat, she stuffed her bag under the seat and settled down. Lost in her thoughts, she avoided making eye contact. “Just get me there,” she mumbled. The plane filled and before long they were in the air.
The darkness seemed to be a comforting friend; even though, it was a vile enemy. It snuck into her life during those conflicting adolescent years, dimming her sight, coloring her actions with various hues of gray. Even though, she was well past that era of life, that pervasive cloud always threatened on the horizon to overtake her. It mocked and called her. Attempting to ignore the plea, she bore down and tried to focus her mind elsewhere. Her needs were more than amply met. She shares the love of a husband and children, so why this deep longing and dissatisfaction? Why does one hard blow from life leave her as though she is standing on the edge of this cavernous pit?
The month prior, in desperation and inspiration, she drove to the bookstore to search for something: answers, hope, reason. As if a bookstore could provide all that! Walking tepidly to the religion section, she grabbed an armload of books that looked like they may contain answers: books about suffering, the will of God, the historical Jesus. The earnest searching became driven and focused.
She reached into her bag diverting her attention from the task that lay before her upon arrival and pulled forth one of those books. A book by Billy Graham. She snickered, “How cheesy is this? Why did I pick this one?” A flash of embarrassment flushed over her cheeks. Other than his national fame, she knew little about him. Skeptical, yet hopeful, it was more the topic that appealed to her: death and heaven.
The news of her father’s impending death loomed large in her mind: a man who was full of life, humor, and love, but is now stricken, suffering, withering away. It seems a pathetic, merciless end as his dignity and abilities are stripped away leaving him helpless. And here she is flying to pack up his belongings and go through the remainder of his life – all that he worked for, all that he is…was – into little boxes. The knife twisted leaving a lump in her throat. But, she hardened, decisions need to be made; the roles have reversed.
To be continued…
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