What will it be like,
To look into your face?
To finally get a glimpse,
Of you, at the end of your race?
What will it be like,
To sit there and to breathe?
To finally take you into myself,
Your life that moment to bequeath?
What will it be like,
At the end of this mysterious road?
To look into your face?
To finally get a glimpse,
Of you, at the end of your race?
What will it be like,
To sit there and to breathe?
To finally take you into myself,
Your life that moment to bequeath?
What will it be like,
At the end of this mysterious road?
Where
suddenly the end has come,
Where death alone is bestowed?
Where death alone is bestowed?
***
Mystery
enfolds the moment as we gaze at something we cannot
yet grasp. So many have said, “How are you? How are you, really?”
People may not understand that it’s still a
period of calm before the storm. Nothing much has changed. We are in that way
station, the departure lounge, waiting for our ride so we can leave this
cognisance of reality for the next one.
And, whilst it might be brash to say it, we
are unafraid. We have known grief before. We know it is part of life. We
understand that God can use the pain we endure; that it will further soften our
hearts to the tremendous human need we might be privileged to minister into.
Preparing for an unspeakable moment of pain
intuits anxiousness, but the peace of God is a calm pond amidst the hues of
sunrise. What is felt is the truth of what’s about to take place, but there is
no pain; no undue stress. If anything I’ve been stressed because of a different
and equally important matter, and presently, I just battle to keep up with the
demands of running a household.
I’ve found that people will anticipate our
grief through their own lens. Those who see it as unbearable will, themselves, take
a similar event unbearably. Yet, for me, as I look back, I have only fondness
for the time when I was broken, day after day, month after month, to
smithereens. I hated it at the time, but now I’m so thankful that that grief I
withstood by fully relying on God. There is no simple answer but hard work, one
day at a time.
So, for me, and for Sarah, we hope to meet our
baby soon. We hope to meet and then say goodbye within a short space of time. And
we hope to reunite with our little darling in heaven one day. These hopes are
enough to sustain us, and we are so very grateful for the great number of
things, and the substance of things, that God has showered us with.
© 2014 S. J. Wickham.
No comments:
Post a Comment
Note: Only a member of this blog may post a comment.