Fading

Wispy like clouds…that’s how she felt. Stretched for so long it seemed holes were holding her together. No wonder an emptiness invaded. Not depression really, just a void. It was a strange experience, more tolerable the older she grew. Watching changes in her loved ones and friends added to the taste of life distancing…becoming less connected, unimportant, a sense of isolation, being forgotten. A growing towards that very private thing called dying each soul must singularly face.

She had always pre-grieved, perceiving losses to come; so began exploring the feelings visiting her, trying to learn the lessons waiting there. Nothing was a waste. Growth came from all experiences, even the hardest ones, some like composted manure necessary to nourish the soil so the flower would flourish, grow, and bloom. Thankfully the Master Gardner cultivated the garden well, transplanting her out of places where heaps of too much would-be manure would destroy her. She was at the mercy of Someone beyond herself. There was too much in the plowing, churning, cultivating, transplanting, and the endless changing seasons for her to understand. It was best now that she just rest…and watch the clouds.

Clouds had become a near obsession. “Two hands on wheel!” her son admonished as she tried to get a picture while driving. The sky had been glorified daily with changing cloudscapes, light shimmering through, into, behind…displaying over the valley exquisite contrasts of blue and white; other days white and dark shapes backlit by velvet gray.

What a gift! The Master Artist unveiled daily surprises, the overarching dome alive with movement, color, change. As her fading soul contemplated the losses she bore and would bear, the final loss leaving this earthly place, she gazed at the clouds and remembered her lifelong dreams of bodily flying there. She would rather sit on a hill and take pictures imagining then fuss with daily demands.

Perhaps one day soon her spirit would rise and play through the majestic gladness of the clouds. The rolling ones, the sheets of gleam, the wispy cowlick feathers. The story-telling ones morphed into dinosaurs, dogs, and bunnies. And angel shapes hovering over city scenes. The gray velvet ones like comforters letting go crystal kisses of snow upon the earth. And in her play she would find herself full again.

The holes? Perhaps just new places to be filled with heavenly wonders beyond her imagination. Like eyelids briefly closing to open yet again.

~~~

LORD, thank You that when we come to the end of ourselves, actually or in our feelings, You are there. There is no place we can go where we are truly abandoned or alone. Our feelings are but wisps, changeable as clouds driven by unseen winds. Thank You for being the only Unchanging One, that Your Word and promises never vary, that You are fully trustworthy, and that You carry us through all life experiences. Thank You for the gift of filling us anew with Your resurrected life! In Jesus’ name, Amen.

Romans 5:10-11 NKJV “For if when we were enemies we were reconciled to God through the death of His Son, much more, having been reconciled, we shall be saved by His life. 11 And not only that, but we also rejoice in God through our Lord Jesus Christ, through whom we have now received the reconciliation.”

Psalm 139:7-10 “Where can I go from Your Spirit?
Or where can I flee from Your presence? 8 If I ascend into heaven, You are there;
If I make my bed in hell, behold, You are there. 9 If I take the wings of the morning,
And dwell in the uttermost parts of the sea, 10 Even there Your hand shall lead me,
And Your right hand shall hold me.”

Psalm 36:5 “Your mercy, O Lord, is in the heavens;
Your faithfulness reaches to the clouds.”