For about a week now I've been pondering a particular thought. If I consider Phoebe's life, her life story, no matter what ...even imagining she hadn't died so young, the end of the story is always the same. She dies. It doesn't matter the age or circumstances, the bare fact is that she dies. Just like all of us, our ending is the same. When I can wrap my head around this and know this, simple, plain, but true fact ...I find some comfort, a haven that offers assurance and promise. So whether Phoebe died at 40, 52, 90, or sadly, at 17 ...her ending arrives at the same place ...at least here on earth. No matter the age, I can start there, at her death and walk backwards through her life and see with such great clarity the gift of each moment she lived. I can approach my loss of her with a tear of sadness that quickly gives way to the joy and promise of her incredible life. All the way back, I arrive at her birth, and further, her very creation ...which has no sadness, no regret, no fear. It has only pure joy ...the pondering of an exquisite gift that always was and always will be because the source of that gift, the giver, is God ...who is before and after, who is always. I think that's a pretty good place to rest, knowing that God knows Phoebe from all time. My sweet Phoebe, my strong hearted girl, how I miss you and your ways!
Eternal rest grant unto Phoebe, and may perpetual light shine upon her. May she rest in peace. Amen
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