Sometimes the pressures of life and circumstances can build up to be so intense that you just need a break. But who’d have thought that the break would feel more like a broken heart.
Yes, God knows when it’s our time. He has our days numbered. He knows when it’s the right time. But not just the right time to bring a person home to Him, but the right time for everyone else to say, “Good-bye”.
Oh, how the pressure’s been building. I’ll bet no one expected that it was time for a break, and not the kind of break you would expect. In our family, it was time to take a break and change our focus. For some, it was time to stop focusing on…office work. For others, it was…kids or grandkids. It was time to stop focusing on sales, on schoolwork, on Christmas plans. It was time to stop focusing on…circumstances. It was time to focus on something else, on someone else…on someone who was loved and who will be missed.
No one ever looks forward to the end of a life. After all, it’s not a time of joy, but of sadness, or is it? Well, I suppose it’s basically a ball of emotions tangled together from years gone by that surfaces dramatically, and in a matter of days we expect to unravel it just enough to put together a respectable sending off for the one whose life has ended. But how exactly is that supposed to be done?
It’s done by not stuffing that ball, but by letting it go. By taking a break from everything else and focusing on…her favorite flower…the hymns that she cherished…the style in which she decorated her home…. It’s done by remembering... remembering the old Livermore hospital building where she used to work as a nurse…her silly little dog, Sloopy…the way her hairstyle changed over the years, or hasn’t changed. It’s done by talking about her…talking about all the time that she’s volunteered to help at the thrift store…talking about how she and Grandpa used to spend their vacations fishing…her favorite kind of pie…where she liked to go to brunch after church…the spunky way she handled her husband when they were a young and not so young couple. It’s done by taking a moment and hearing the sound of her voice still echoing in our hearts…humming a little tune. It’s done by sorting through her knick-knacks with a smile…and her pictures with tears…. It’s done by honoring her.
It’s time…time to take a break and rally together, to excuse, put off and let go of anything that need be and celebrate her life…and that’s not necessarily a sad thing. It’s joyful to celebrate a life, especially knowing that her life has not ended, but has truly just begun.
Death is inevitable, and there’s just no good time for it. But there is a right time. I know there were plenty in this family who found themselves with a break, but not the kind of break where you sit and have some coffee. It’s more like an earthquake…something that occurs when pressure’s been building. Yes, death is earth-shattering, and with every death of a loved one, there’s a fault line created. It’s a reminder of someone who left a mark…a deep rooted break that will never be filled in, as it shouldn’t be, but will be remembered, for that someone will someday be seen again…at least by all of us who know the same Lord and Savior as she knows. Then the time will come for the broken hearts to be mended.
For everything there is a season,
A time for every activity under heaven.
A time to be born and a time to die.
A time to plant and a time to harvest.
A time to kill and a time to heal.
A time to tear down and a time to build up.
A time to cry and a time to laugh.
A time to grieve and a time to dance.
A time to scatter stones and a time to gather them up.
A time to embrace and a time to refrain.
A time to search and a time to give up.
A time to keep and a time to throw away.
A time to tear and a time to mend.
A time to be silent and a time to speak.
A time to love and a time to hate.
A time to wage war and a time to make peace. 4Ecclesiastes 3:1-8
In honor of
Amy Maxine Spruiell
Born November 25, 1915
Died December 1, 2010
Written by Amie Spruiell
(her grand-daughter-in-law)
12-01-2010
No comments:
Post a Comment