Glimpses of Eternity

 Beauty and grace crown heads of gray in remembrance of days long ago.  As a teenage nursing assistant walking the placid halls of a rural Midwest care center, I grasped life's lessons of physical ailments, fading minds, and glimpses of souls craving someone to touch and love.  In those days, I found a calling to embrace and seek presence in these momentary encounters.  There was a woman who would cry out words forgotten by her dementia, and I would sometimes sit with her for a moment searching the person behind the anguish.  I caressed her soul with kind words and brief stories, and one afternoon she paused in her repetition to smile at me.  When she smiled her face lit up like dawn's graceful entrance, and we became friends.  In the summer, I often worked the night shift, walking quietly among the halls of sleep and sorrow to comfort and tuck in.  I delighted in the serenity of those quiet nights, stirring my soul in the presence of angels and taking moments to write brief passages of poetry on my breaks.  Gentle moments of reflection.

In the halls of a rural care center more than twenty years ago, I tasted the first bittersweet fruits of giving my heart for love to be torn in the reality of death.  Comforting a man whose wife and roommate passed on to eternity, I was too young for wisdom and full comprehension of his grief, so I silently held his hand and it seemed enough.  I found pain and beauty in the thread of life that diminished in the shallow veins of life's edge.  I was touched by two patients in particular, both dying of cancer and seeking comforting gestures of love.  Both of them exuded something unique in their spirits by the grace in which they embraced life and death.  Both of them grasped something deep in my soul, and I wrote these poems in their honor.

Jacob

The breathing machine hummed like the breath of angels,
a gentle droning rhythm...

Often I explored this institution--
Reaching a pale comforting hand for the ill and bereft,
But nothing changed my life more than
The silent man who laid still in a quiet recession from life.
With heavy gray eyes, he gazed faintly upwards,
Pain seeping every pore of his being
And whispered in a breathless voice
Like rustling leaves on a lucid October morning.
"Please don't leave.  Please stay.  Just hold my hand."
A gaunt bony hand grasped my own-- the touch of aged silk.
I stayed by his side,
Feeling the cancer invade his skeleton form.

I never knew him in life before cancer crept into his flesh,
Yet his gentle hands and graceful spirit grabbed at my young heart.
When he passed on to eternity, the dam broke.
I wept with his family and tasted their sorrow, and I embraced their deep love.

Not long after his passing, I had a dream...
The man confined to his bed weary for cancer that consumed him.
I knelt by his side and hugged him, feeling the tide rise to eternity.
God's love shone upon him like the purest sunshine on a gentle June morning.
A wave of light bathed in the fullness of peace flowing over us.
The dying man was called home and heaven called to my soul...


Mildred

Her eyes were sapphire oceans of peace.
The flesh of her face glistened
Like transparent satin.
I could taste her tears
As though they were a flowing May drizzle
Soaking my swollen tongue.
Silently, I watched her drift
Into a painless sleep,
Lethargic from the care I had given.
A single tear journeyed its way down my cheek,
Falling into her thin white hair--
Falling for injustice.
Breathing deeply, I inhaled her beauty--
Lingering with the soft scent of musk
That powdered her frail arms.
And I felt a calm strength engulf me...

Glimpses of eternity grounded my faith and shaped my worldview.  In these fragile encounters, grace not lost but found in beauty for life and death, gifted by sacredness and holy ground.  These precious moments ordained for transcending our humanness to bear God's image of love.  Cherished moments to treasure up.

"They will see his face, and his name will be on their foreheads.  And night will be no more.  They will need no light of lamp or sun, for the Lord God will be their light."  Revelation 22:4-5

Faith's Legacy

There once was a baby named Grace whose brief life held an extraordinary purpose for grief and hope.  At her funeral, Grace's daddy spoke to the glory of her testimony that brought grown men to their knees and transformed hearts aligned to the power of prayer and shared heartache.  Pain punctured her mama's broken heart with sorrow and loss, yet she resolved to share its agonizing love and pass on Grace's legacy to heal the grief of other daddies and mamas.

"Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of mercies and God of all comfort, who comforts us in all our affliction, so that we may be able to comfort those who are in any affliction, with the comfort with which we ourselves are comforted by God"  2 Corinthians 1:3-4

There once was a young woman waiting excitedly at the OB clinic with her family to hear the heartbeat of her precious baby for the first time.  Like early morning awakening dew nestled on the grass, the mama had treasured the life anticipated in its fragile mystery, yet she felt different with this pregnancy--strangely empty and unfamiliar.  The ultrasound tech, her sister-in-law, wanted to give the visiting grandparents an opportunity to share in this sacred moment of life discovery.  But laughter was silenced in the blink of an eye with the news that shattered hearts.  With anguish for the treasured life in the womb that wasn't to be, the sister-in-law gently touched the young woman, tears filling her blue eyes, "I'm sorry, I can't find a heartbeat."  Shuddering with shock and fear, the young woman cried out softly to Abba, her ache whispering "Lord give me strength" as she clung to her husband, tears overflowing.  Each breath felt forced and stiff.  The man gently stroked his wife with reassuring words spoken to their shared mourning,  The glorious hues of dawn's refrain was chased away by shadows of sorrow.  Unable to bear the pain, she prayed and told God to take all of her because she couldn't cope on her own.  She asked the Lord for a sign, and His gentle nurturing voice whispered to her spirit, "Read Roman's 5."

"Therefore, since we have been justified through faith, we have peace with God through our Lord Jesus Christ, through whom we now stand.  And we boast in the hope of the glory of God. Not only so, but we also glory in our sufferings, because we know that suffering produces perseverance; perseverance, character; and character, hope.  And hope does not put us to shame, because God's love has been poured out into our hearts through the Holy Spirit, who has been given to us."  Roman's 5:1-5

Grieving hands scribbled this passage of verse on a piece of paper and held its crumpled message, a lifeline to hold with all of her waning strength.  In the coming days of waiting and wondering, God spoke to her gentle words of comfort by His quiet nature refrain, and she wrote this poem.

Butterfly Song

Left in my sorrow, I'm drowned in grief

My tears water me and overflow my cup

I sit outside in the warm breeze reflecting my sorrows

The summer day glows around me

Sparrows dancing among the dense green branches

The song of chimes rock me gently

Tiny yellow butterflies, hundreds of them rest on my lawn

As I stroll through my backyard, each movement seems like forever

Yellow butterflies circle me in song and wind and chimes

The grace of the butterflies are like God's love embracing me

In this quiet moment, heaven and earth stand still

I find perfect comfort in strong invisible arms

No Words, just Silence

Just peace in the presence of my beloved Lord

...How sweet

Peaceful moments were rare when she cried out to God through her bereft heart, forced to face the reality of death in her womb with each effort to breathe and step through the numbness of her endless sorrows.  God's word was her anchor, the verse stuffed in a pocket to reach with her trembling touch.  The butterfly song lasted but just a brief moment, but God's faithfulness lasted through each stage of grief fading into the agonizing days of waiting.  God carried her when sorrow engulfed her in the emergency room, and they couldn't stop the flow of blood to dispel life faintness with loss and fear.  God held her tenderly when their empty arms wrote letters to their unheld child and lifted them to heaven.  God led her through the mourning loss of March 18, her baby's due date, and her husband delivered roses to her place of work with a comforting note.  God was present when she prayed for perspective and was given the name Faith Ann for closure.  God was with her the day in church when she encountered Grace's parents who held a sweet baby brother born on March 18, Faith's due date, and she cried and Grace's mama held her whispering, "I'm praying for you."  

"Let the children come to me; do not hinder them, for to such belongs the kingdom of God."  Mark 10:14

There once was a beautiful red-head girl who longed for a baby sister.  She cried one fall day when they were on a walk to end Alzheimer's, and she let go of her balloon for a moment and it lifted up into the sky.  Her mama hugged her and whispered, "That one is for your sister in heaven."  Her heart was sad for the one she wouldn't meet on earth, and each time she released a balloon, she shared the secret delight with her mama for heavenly gifts.

There once was a grandma who loved all of her grand babies and treasured their sweetness.  She sent a letter of comfort to her granddaughter that grieved for her Faith Ann, and the grandma held Faith's baby brother when he arrived a year later.  Grandma missed out on the future birth of another brother one winter night when she released her soul to her heavenly home.  The granddaughter once again encountered grief, bereft of the gracious woman that she admired her steel spine strength and gentle kind hands holding her tenderly with love and patience.  The young woman once imagined Grandpa standing with the "great cloud of witnesses" to watch Jesus hold precious baby Faith and announce to heavenly hosts, "It's a girl!"  Now, Grandma's arms would be full in reunion and tender hugs with the one her mama would wait to embrace and love.  Faith's legacy treasured memories that held bittersweet dreams and promises for future glory, and the woman was at peace.

"He will swallow up death forever.  The sovereign Lord will wipe away the tears from all faces" Isaiah 25:8a



This story was based on excerpts I wrote thirteen years ago in a grieving journal given to us through a ministry that was called "The Gift of Grace", a precious gift basket of comforting resources for parents grieving infant and pregnancy loss.  Grace, Faith, and my dear grandmother each taught me that ALL life is precious and sacred no matter what age or stage.  For more about Faith's legacy and our healing process as a family: http://dzehm.blogspot.com/2013/03/letters-to-heaven.html