Apr 2015
This one is for my grieving family.
When people say that their hearts are heavy they hit the nail on the head, and right now mine feels like it weighs about a thousand pounds. With each new loss it gains weight and drags down, pulling on the vessels that are supposed to give life until they become a noose circling my windpipe, cutting off my precious supply of air. I can't breathe. It seems that every day now I hear the echoing sounds of the cries and the groans that bounce their way down the Facebook grapevine, another status update with another picture of another face that the Enemy took before their time. Even from where I stand, a thousand miles from the epicenter, I can barely keep on my feet because I'm rocked by the aftershock tremors as they come, one on top of the other. It seems these days the valley just can't catch a break, with tragedy striking faster and faster, giving the people barely enough time to pull themselves from the rubble that is the aftermath of the last disaster before the next one sends them running even faster to dive back into their foxholes. And when they finally dare to get to their feet, the only things before their eyes are broken homes and broken lives, gaping holes that can never be filled, the growing numbers of loved ones killed in this war in whose crossfire we find ourself caught.
This one is for my broken valley.
Now, we know of this epic struggle between forces we cannot see, this fight we call the Great Controversy, but while some hide in their foxholes and pray for mercy others choose to be the warriors on the front lines, the Maddys and Fishers and Rosas who let their lights shine both to drive back the darkness and to encourage those of us who aren't so fearless to don our full armor and enter the battle with the same reckless abandon. And though they have fallen we choose to stand in their places, filling the holes in the battle lines and praying for their souls that have gone to rest. We fight on through these tragedies that test our faith, and we look to our great General, who alone knows the lay of the battlefield and the day of victory.
This one is for Rosa, for Fisher, for Maddy.
Every bridge we hold, every hill we storm, we do with their memory in our hearts and their names ringing on our lips. We will continue this fight until the light fades from our eyes and our time on earth is done, knowing that we all will be reunited on that day when Jesus finally comes.
This one is for my family that will be made whole again one day.
When people say that their hearts are heavy they hit the nail on the head, and right now mine feels like it weighs about a thousand pounds. With each new loss it gains weight and drags down, pulling on the vessels that are supposed to give life until they become a noose circling my windpipe, cutting off my precious supply of air. I can't breathe. It seems that every day now I hear the echoing sounds of the cries and the groans that bounce their way down the Facebook grapevine, another status update with another picture of another face that the Enemy took before their time. Even from where I stand, a thousand miles from the epicenter, I can barely keep on my feet because I'm rocked by the aftershock tremors as they come, one on top of the other. It seems these days the valley just can't catch a break, with tragedy striking faster and faster, giving the people barely enough time to pull themselves from the rubble that is the aftermath of the last disaster before the next one sends them running even faster to dive back into their foxholes. And when they finally dare to get to their feet, the only things before their eyes are broken homes and broken lives, gaping holes that can never be filled, the growing numbers of loved ones killed in this war in whose crossfire we find ourself caught.
This one is for my broken valley.
Now, we know of this epic struggle between forces we cannot see, this fight we call the Great Controversy, but while some hide in their foxholes and pray for mercy others choose to be the warriors on the front lines, the Maddys and Fishers and Rosas who let their lights shine both to drive back the darkness and to encourage those of us who aren't so fearless to don our full armor and enter the battle with the same reckless abandon. And though they have fallen we choose to stand in their places, filling the holes in the battle lines and praying for their souls that have gone to rest. We fight on through these tragedies that test our faith, and we look to our great General, who alone knows the lay of the battlefield and the day of victory.
This one is for Rosa, for Fisher, for Maddy.
Every bridge we hold, every hill we storm, we do with their memory in our hearts and their names ringing on our lips. We will continue this fight until the light fades from our eyes and our time on earth is done, knowing that we all will be reunited on that day when Jesus finally comes.
This one is for my family that will be made whole again one day.
Since the beginning of 2015, my old college community suffered the loss of three loved and cherished individuals. This is a spoken word in their memory.
