phone call from old friend and her voice trembles under the weight of it. cancer.
it is this silent punch to the center of me and for a moment hope loses it’s breath at the declaration that a war has begun in her body.
between finding my insects-in-bright-light-scattered words, i fumble to pull love out of my pockets to press into her hands and heart.
it is a sometimes weighted to the end life he allows.
sometimes as in lizzy’s story this flying into the sun sacrifice of here and now as she trusts the outcome. and we watch with tears streaming, understanding the god only reversible of it.
we turn and slumped shoulder carry memories with us, while seeds of make-the-most-squeeze-tighter-and-longer-don’t-forget-to-say-so begin to sprout in our grief.
god seems smaller ’til we see he has been holding us and the story all along.
sometimes there is this all-seems-hopeless-and-superhero-is-finally-outdone-beneath-weight-of-city-bus moment—-then victory unfolds sudden in climactic come back.
we are one-hearted cheering and ready to fight ’til next final scene.
god’s true measureless is in clear sight and we shake bottles of faith, spraying him out in celebration.
but the battles continue.
so we pump air into trust sometimes relying on borrowed breath at our weakest. knowing truth of his size is written into script from beginning to end.
so when my friend is short of breath, i want to stand beside and remind her of angel armies and that the sustainer of life is bigger than all that life can press onto these pages.
he spreads out the northern skies over empty space;
he suspends the earth over nothing.
he wraps up the waters in his clouds,
yet the clouds do not burst under their weight.
he covers the face of the full moon,
spreading his clouds over it.
he marks out the horizon on the face of the waters
for a boundary between light and darkness.
the pillars of the heavens quake,
aghast at his rebuke.
by his power he churned up the sea;
by his wisdom he cut rahab to pieces.
by his breath the skies became fair;
his hand pierced the gliding serpent.
and these are but the outer fringe of his works;
how faint the whisper we hear of him!
who then can understand the thunder of his power?”
job 26.7-14 (NIV)
for cathy b.