Into the Fire

The ceilings rise to a height a bended neck aches to view. The air is cool. Almost chilling.

Liturgy and pomp somehow do not reflect the friend I remember. But I realize some flourish in this setting.

Words pass among those congregating on the worn hall carpet. Maybe if we postpone our entry to the sanctuary, we won't have to admit the finality.

A bed will be half empty. The loss extreme. The blur of tears and memories overwhelm the senses. Nothing feels right anymore.

People leave the premises and life goes on as before. For some.

Death steals life, and yet only those who are directly associated realize nothing remains the same. That last stolen breath means life on earth feels dead for the time being. Coping impossible. The loss too severe. How can anyone endure this pain?

The only comfort comes from God alone. He appears between and in and through all the distortion of human words and allows an unimaginable and for a time unsustainable peace. No one wants to admit that time can heal even this kind of wound, but somehow the vision of eternity slides in and out of focus.

Reflections of loss.

Father, please do bring the needed comfort both now and in the ensuing days. Please bring provision and laughter and hope and the assurance of heaven to those who know you and suffer loss. In the Name of Jesus, Amen.