Grief hung like the air on a Michigan summer day while we packed boxes. The degree of humidity varied, based a bit on length of association. But it was heavy, none-the-less.Grief can't be contained oft times. Nor controlled. Nor managed.
Grief exists, but simple it is not. Grief consumes. It eventually fades, but not always before plowing through another time or two.
We sorted, at times casually, and hurriedly, through 11 years of church life and ministry. Some items we packed to use. Other items were disgarded. Some were stacked for others to browse through.
Eleven years of life, transformations, births, anniversaries, deaths.
And this passage ended by packing boxes, taking down the signs, and shutting the doors.
Death.
The strange thing is, the death of this church is providing life for another church. How bizarre, really, to consider that death leads to life.
The life-giving quality of death doesn't minimize pain.
The life-giving quality of death doesn't negate loss.
Yet life springs forth.
Today, despite the loss for the church which closed its doors and is encouraged to join "mine," I give thanks for death.
I've heard that unless a seed falls to the ground that new life cannot spring forth.
So we journey on.
Through death.
On to life.
Bring life to us again oh Lord.
Pix credit: Lauren!! Playing/teaching hand and foot at MCC winter retreat 0107.
3 comments:
I too have noticed that through death comes life. I even have a tattoo to remind myself of that - I got it on the one year anniversary of when my husband left me - ironically enough on Good Friday. My cross and fish tattoo is on my hip and so is rarely seen by others unless my pants creep down a bit too much. Whenever someone asks me about it, I give them my testimony and tell them about how death we can have life.
I had seen birth and death,
But had thought they were different. TS Eliot
Glad you could be there to help, Gracie!
Yes, death can have life. Thank merciful God.
And thanks, Julia. Great quote.
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