On my cool-down lap in the cemetery recently I encountered an elderly man on his morning walk. “Trying to stay out of this place?” he asked. Well yes - yes I am. “For as long as possible, anyway,” I said, “although no one gets out alive.” Ha ha. “I already own land here” he said, ignoring my weak jest or maybe elaborating on it. He began to list everyone from his family buried around us - great grandparents, grandparents, parents. It was a little tough to understand him through his scarf, but I thought he ended with “and great grandson.” “Did you say great grandson?” “Yes. Stillborn." Ah. I’m sorry.
So there it is. A perfect stranger, and in less than 5 sentences I’m privy to at least a fraction of the sorrow he carries on his morning walks. It seems you don’t have to scratch anyone’s surface very hard to find something similar. So I resonate with Reverend Rutledge's words. I trust I will have the courage to look straight into the darkness, knowing that Christmas points us toward the light that shines in our darkness, and will not be overcome.


Praying for you this Advent season.
ReplyDeleteMs LBF, Thanks so very much for the pictures your words paint and the words your pictures suggest. Both are very vivid and expertly crafted.
ReplyDeleteShanley sends thoughts and prayers.