Death.

It’s something I’m way too familiar with.

This year has brought  me face-to-face with a piece of post-Eden that I knew of… but now know intimately and despise.  And it seems we will never be far from one another.  It is like living with a thief.  I have been robbed of way more than I can quantify.

I hate it.

I hate what that Tree of Knowledge brought.  I want to know only good. There WAS a knowledge of only good. Once upon a time, my great great great knew only LIFE.  No awareness of death.  No consciousness of evil.  Nothing marred that beauty.  There was no dark shadow hanging around the edge of every shining moment… no fear of that moment’s inevitable end.  Only joy, as far back as he could look and as far ahead as he considered (if he considered?).

Today we are told to consider Resurrection.

Celebration of new Life!  Life from death.  Triumph.  Victory.  A restoration of eternal joy.  Blood cleans the slate and paints everything the colour of Love in every direction again.

But here I sit.  In a puddle of crimson.  Soaked, covered, and I know I know I know You’re there, Love.  You’re real and you’re true.  I don’t wonder about that.  But today my tears are still burning their way down my cheeks.  They won’t be denied.

And I’m so thankful that You don’t deny them.  You sit with me.  You catch every salty drop as it falls from my chin.  You aren’t telling me to be happy because You’ve fixed everything.  You just sit here, with me in the puddle, quiet, and hold my hand.
No one understands death like You.

And as the pain shakes my body again, I am grateful.
No one else sits with me like this.
I’m so thankful for You,

Life.