From a Glass, Darkly

This has been quite a week.  Two grandbabies born to our members, with whom we rejoice, but a shadow side has been the unusual number of deaths we’ve experienced as a community this past week.

Mary Louise Clift Brown died Saturday, March 3^rd.  Private services were held at the Middle Tennessee Veterans Cemetery on Wednesday, March 7^th.  Among her survivors is her husband Thomas A. Brown.

Beth and Dudley Warner are mourning the death of Beth’s mother, Ruth Edna Hokinson Green, who died Sunday, March 4^th.  Services were held at West End on Wednesday, March 7^th.  She is survived also by West End member Elizabeth Shayler (granddaughter).

Bess Frances Hunt Bennett died Tuesday, March 6^th.  Services will be held at West End on Friday, March 9^th. 

James Hicks, father of Karen and Pamela Hicks, died Wednesday evening, March 7^th.  Services will be held in Huntsville, Alabama on Saturday morning.

And on top of that, it’s gray and raining outside.

Days like these call us to cling to our Good News:  That the worst thing that happens to us is never the last thing to happen to us, by God’s grace. 

None of us can fully comprehend the mystery of death and resurrection, but it helps me to think of this inspired parable.

Once upon a time, twins were conceived in the same womb.  Weeks passed, and the twins developed.  As their awareness grew, they laughed for joy:  “Isn’t it great to be alive?”

Together the twins explored their world.  When they found their mother’s cord that gave them life, they sang for joy.  “How great is our mother’s love, that she shares her own life with us!”

As weeks stretched into months, the twins noticed how much each was changing.  “What does that mean?” asked one.

“It means our stay in this world is drawing to an end,” said the other.

“But I don’t want to go,” said the one.

“But maybe there is life after birth!” said the other.

“But how could that be?” responded the other one.  “We’d have to shed our life cord, and how is life possible without it?  Besides, we have seen evidence that others were here before us, and none of them have returned to tell us that there is life after birth.  No, this is the end!”

And so the one twin fell into deep despair, saying “If conception ends in birth, what is the purpose of life in the womb? It’s meaningless.  Maybe there’s no mother at all!”

“But there has to be,” protested the other.  “How else did we get here? How do we remain alive?”

“Have you ever seen our mother?” said the one.  “Maybe she lives only in our minds; maybe we made her up because the idea makes us feel good.”

And so the last days in the womb were filled with great questioning and fear. 

Finally, the moment of birth arrived.  When the twins passed from their world, they opened their eyes.  And they cried, for what they saw exceeded their fondest dreams.

For now we see as through a glass, darkly….  At least that’s the view from my desk today.

Grace and resurrection joy,

Julie