Stillness covers this Sunday like the snow silent falling.
I wait in the stillness and the thoughts of my heart run deep as drifts.
Sunday made more still with unexpected damage to our only vehicle yesterday. Never saw it coming. Completely altered our day.
And a date at a college art museum became an adventure in getting home.
Which we did after an hours-long wait, first for campus security and then for a flat bed from across the river. A bumpy ride dropped us at our service station thankfully only a quarter-mile hike from home along a country road waiting for spring’s thaw.
Yesterday, before our date, we had our weekly marriage meeting on finances and such, and prayed asking God to keep our old car safe and well-working.
And God is good. Thank you, Father.
There could have been a terrible collision where metal and mortals got twisted beyond repair.
Now we wait on others.
Garage is closed for the weekend and our calls go unreturned. Not knowing the cost of repairs we wait to submit a claim. We waited for the rental car office to open this morning only to be told they can’t send a car to pick us up today.
So we wait for tomorrow when more information will shed light clearer.
And snow keeps falling. Road ahead obscured.
Yet in the waiting we cannot wait for we only have these moments precious and few in the beauty of all their fleeting.
And in the fleeting of life on earth we wait to once again see a dear, dear friend — “Grandma Georgette” to my three sons — who unexpectedly slipped from earth’s embrace into the Father’s arms on Friday.
After a one week wait following a stroke that struck while she slept.
And I had hugged her as she sat at lunch just one week earlier than that. Quickly, on my way passing through. Never thinking this would be the last time I would see her as I had known her — vibrant, energetic, witty, laughing.
In ICU her body broken, connected to a bunch of tubes and machines, waiting for its first breath of eternity.
So I whisper I love you in an ear that had often listened to my heart as we sipped tea together. Her fluttering open eyes heavily weighted.
And we held our breath and waited for the fullness of her time here to end so as to begin somewhere so much better.
She’s dancing with Jesus now.
And left behind we are left missing her.
Waiting for another day when all waiting will cease and time will stand still as it flows forward without end.
Like snow that doesn’t wait but keeps falling, falling, falling.
And in all this waiting we cannot wait. Not another moment. Grasp the given and then give it away fully and full of love.
For we are like snowflakes rare. All together falling alike yet uniquely so.
We are a wisp of beauty fragile. Melting warm in the palm of His hand. A vapor vanishing.
And waiting as we cannot wait yet must.
For what will be.
Waiting for glory…