It had been a rough week.
Tangy air pushed against Lydia as she ran, her brother’s hand clasped in her own. The sun was setting, casting a frothy cream of golden oranges and satin-like pinks across the expanse above their heads. Restless waves continued a rhythm of gentle landings–always rushing, always pulling back and always returning.
The memory was so vivid. The small, closed room, the dim interior. The words that had made it so final, directed to her mother.
“Are you ready for us to close the lid?”
Close the door on the vestige of one whom she, Lydia, had lovingly called, “my Grandpa”.
How inwardly she had sobbed. It wasn’t time. She wasn’t ready. She didn’t want the lid to close. How often afterwards, she wished that the room could have been cleared from all eyes and she could have bent over that open coffin and wept out her grief.
She ran. Ran past those memories as though it was too hard to stop and bear the load of silence.
“Lydia,” it was her brother, “Lydia, look! Butterflies! White ones. See how pretty they are? Grandpa always loved those.”
She could hear her grandfather’s voice in her memory.
“White is like the color of grace.” Grandpa had cupped his hands and a butterfly briefly landed. “We’ll be in Heaven one day because of the grace He has given us. Life here is fleeting. Life there is forever.”
“Is life just like the turning of the door knob, Grandpa?” She asked.
He had smiled. “Yes. This life is just a flicker before our real life begins.”
She stopped running now. Raising her hand in a cupped shape towards the butterfly, Lydia smiled through her inner sadness. It was true. This life was but the prelude before the song of eternity because of the grace that came through Jesus Christ.
“Shall we walk to the water’s edge?” Her brother whispered.
Moments later, two figures lingered in the low waves, jewelled with the last colors of a setting sun.
And an invisible prelude of longing notes continues, unheard of by human ears, but written on the landscape of human souls. It is but a moment before the Conductor of His children shall usher them into the melody of all that is to come …because of the grace of Jesus Christ.
Tangy air pushed against Lydia as she ran, her brother’s hand clasped in her own. The sun was setting, casting a frothy cream of golden oranges and satin-like pinks across the expanse above their heads. Restless waves continued a rhythm of gentle landings–always rushing, always pulling back and always returning.
The memory was so vivid. The small, closed room, the dim interior. The words that had made it so final, directed to her mother.
“Are you ready for us to close the lid?”
Close the door on the vestige of one whom she, Lydia, had lovingly called, “my Grandpa”.
How inwardly she had sobbed. It wasn’t time. She wasn’t ready. She didn’t want the lid to close. How often afterwards, she wished that the room could have been cleared from all eyes and she could have bent over that open coffin and wept out her grief.
She ran. Ran past those memories as though it was too hard to stop and bear the load of silence.
“Lydia,” it was her brother, “Lydia, look! Butterflies! White ones. See how pretty they are? Grandpa always loved those.”
She could hear her grandfather’s voice in her memory.
“White is like the color of grace.” Grandpa had cupped his hands and a butterfly briefly landed. “We’ll be in Heaven one day because of the grace He has given us. Life here is fleeting. Life there is forever.”
“Is life just like the turning of the door knob, Grandpa?” She asked.
He had smiled. “Yes. This life is just a flicker before our real life begins.”
She stopped running now. Raising her hand in a cupped shape towards the butterfly, Lydia smiled through her inner sadness. It was true. This life was but the prelude before the song of eternity because of the grace that came through Jesus Christ.
“Shall we walk to the water’s edge?” Her brother whispered.
Moments later, two figures lingered in the low waves, jewelled with the last colors of a setting sun.
And an invisible prelude of longing notes continues, unheard of by human ears, but written on the landscape of human souls. It is but a moment before the Conductor of His children shall usher them into the melody of all that is to come …because of the grace of Jesus Christ.
“For the law was given by Moses,
but grace and truth came by Jesus Christ.” John 1:17
We are so Blessed by these words. I’ve come to know Jesus Christ as a Child, a Son, a Leader for Mankind. God came to us as his Son Jesus. In the flesh he let us know of Love his Father in Heaven has for us. What an Amazing time in history.
Thank you for all of your beautiful stories and giving us Gods words and Grace.
In Christ Love, Susan
Susan, thank-you so much for your thoughtful words and your encouragement!!