Warm water fell. I stared at the tiles in front of me tracing
the grouted lines of my shower wall.Stopping center of four squares formed a cross. “What does the
cross have to do with my life right now? That question. It stabbed me right through. My
day was ending and only time separated me from tomorrow.
Soft light births the needs of my home before any needs of my own are met. Placing weighty feet on wood floors, walking straight to a little girl whose arms lift high. A small boy desperate to find school socks pulls at my waist. The husband, who has carried his weight even earlier, reverses out of the driveway.
Today.
Today came whether I was ready or not.
Three little souls wants are
set long before me and I’m trying to fit it all in. And we all want more time.
Time gives and time steals. There aren't enough photographs.
It’s right here, right in front of me, this ticking life. Then it passes, like the plate on Sunday. Moments turn to memories. The wound of time gone by. The hourglass a constant drip.
His voice a constant whisper,
“Why? Why are you troubled? Look
at ME, Emily, see my hands, my feet, touch them! Look how my body has turned time upside down? You do
not belong to time. You
belong to ME. Jackson, Jonah, Lailey, Jack -they do not belong to time. They are MINE."
Oh but if they are yours, its YOU, who deals with time, I fear.
It's YOU I see foggy.
For my very breath can't be found when I go to that place of wondering. Wondering what number you have for their days.
This sting. This strong anxious sting bleeds all over because
time can’t be unwound and I can’t change anything
from that day my sister chose to stop time for herself.
The old pages say it’s a sting
that can fall, BE LOST.
How? How has death lost it's sting? How does it fall when it feels so rooted?
If death can lose its sting, then time must be able to lose its sting too.
It falls the only
way it can. Falling on Him who dealt with death and time on that cross.
Those thin, frail pages speak strong.
‘I’m here. I’m present. Take the present. Do not fear! I’m here. I’m right here.’
There are no regrets with the cross. How can fear stay strong if I take hold of right here?
Take the present? His hands, His feet... touch them?
I touch Him as I trace my finger through scripture pages. I feel His hand when mine intertwine with my husbands. I know this Love walking, when my littlest puckers tiny lips- pressing them into mine, when long boys arms wrap round my waist and bury their head into my side. Your side, wounded that mine might touch life and live!
When I gaze brave, straight into the very day HE dwells in,
that sting, it goes.
Grasping my present, full in the LIGHT of Him, blinding the looking back and guarding my sinking worry of what's ahead.
He knew! He
knew what the day ahead held when he
walked this dusty life. He knew what
was around the bend and He walked straight into it. Knowing all along the cross was
only a matter of time.
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