The short end of life....

Being transparent in this bubble of life...
Sometimes life hurts. Sometimes I don't understand and don't have answers.

I know life happens and so does death. Personally, I don't like death. It stinks.

A few weeks ago we had a sick calf. I stood over him while the vet gave him a shot. I petted him and told him it was going to be ok. I prayed for him (yes, I pray for animals). A few days later my husband told me the calf died. I wanted to cry.

A few days ago my husband called to tell me a friend of ours died. No warning..he was driving his tractor, had a heart attack and died. He was not old.
We visited him a few weeks ago. He laughed and told us about his plans as we walked through corrals. He was an entrepreneur and always had some new idea brewing. He enjoyed life.
I don't like death. It shouldn't have come and taken his life.

There are people who want to die...they are alone and just want to leave this ol' world. There are people who want to live and see their kids grow up...who aren't ready to die...not yet.
My kids and I have talked about such situations -why do some people linger.. maybe they aren't ready to meet their Maker...we don't know. Why do the young die? We don't know. Sometimes we can speculate...but to really know... I don't think so.

When Lazarus died, his sisters cried out to Jesus. "If you would've been here, our brother wouldn't have died." Jesus told them, "He will rise again." They cried anyway. "We know that someday we will see him. But, we want him alive, now!"
Of course, in that story, Lazarus was raised from the dead.

I believe people can be raised from the dead. Smith Wigglesworth prayed for the dead and they came back to life.  It happens.

Death wasn't on God's mind for us in the beginning...it is one of the results of sin. However, Jesus overcame death and the grave when He went to the cross and rose again.

There is living to be done. I don't like it when death comes and cuts it short. I just don't. Twenty, thirty,forty, fifty, sixty years old - all too young in my opinion.

Today is difficult. It just is. I know my God reigns. I know there will come a day with no more tears... no more pain...no more good byes. We will see Jesus. He will wipe away every tear.

There will be no more death.

However, as difficult as it is now, I know there is hope...even in death. Jesus says, "I am the resurrection and the life: he that believes in me, though he were dead, yet shall he live. And whosoever lives and believes in me shall never die." 

And the wind bloweth

Aaahhh, what a peaceful, easy feeling! Birds are singing. The air is fresh and it is still, still, still. The scene would be complete if Glenda the Good Witch of the North would appear and munchkins would walk out from under the bushes, singing, "We represent the Lollipop Guild, the Lollipop Guild, the Lollipop Guild..we wish to welcome you to Munchkin Land".

I must be somewhere other than home. I should call Auntie Em. She could tell me it was just a dream.

The wind blew nonstop for at least forever, probably two or three days...or was it more. It wasn't just wind, it was ferocious. Anything not nailed down, flew away.

 Our neighbor's fence lies helpless, in their neighbor's yard. A farmer on facebook said, "I found a plastic water tank, some feed buckets, a feed trough without a frame. 'Gotta hide that stuff before the nieghbors start looking for it..' (location: nowhere near here...). The wind is why my friend cut her long locks to a carefree two inches. It is the reason I don't  grow tomatoes upside down, hanging in a cute topsy-turvy bag on my patio.

Yesterday, the wind blew from this Colorado town, next to the Kansas border, to Parker Colorado. I fought to stay on the highway. It would have been easier to be carried away like Dorothy and Toto- in the air - in my home.
I was hoping the wind would die down when it was time to drive back to the Kansas border. It did - in Denver. The closer I got to home, the harder the wind blew.  The closer I got, the more weather alerts I heard - 'tornadoes, high winds, rain, hail.'  It was a challenge driving against the wind, trying not to be sucked in by semi trailer trucks.

 I pulled in my driveway, forced my way out of my vehicle, and into my home. Disheveled, and exhausted, I sighed. There really is no place like home. The wind blew, the rain and hail came...but I was safe. My husband was home and like Dorothy, I wanted to say, "This is my room and you're here and I'm not gonna leave here, ever, ever again!"

I used to wonder, why the wind blew. Ok...there are countless articles on wind energy. There are wind generators, wind turbines, windmills. I know, sailboats,and windsurfers need wind. The wind reduces smog, and helps with pollination..it's an invisible thermostat for our planet. Good....I love a cool breeze on a summer evening.

Sometimes, the wind over-does it. It is pretty inconsiderate.  It can be annoying and such a nuisance...like, "I'm going to make sure you know I'm here. I'm not leaving and there's nothing you can do about it..."

When we got married, my husband told me he would love me as long as the wind blows and the grass grows.
I'm glad he loves me.
When the wind blows, like it does., I'm reminded of his promise.
I know I'm set for a lifetime of his love.

I saw Him. The man they call Jesus the Christ rode into town on a donkey. My neighbors placed palm leaves on the streets. A royal welcome for the King. They were most excited.
"Reuben! Come join us!" I chose to watch them from my home.

I am a sceptic. I don't believe any of the stuff they say about the Christ. They say He is going to save us. They insist He is the Messiah we have been waiting for. He is going to deliver us from the rule of the Romans.  I have seen too much in my lifetime to think that one man is going to be able to free us. This Christ is not a trained military general. He isn't royalty. He is Joseph, the carpenter's son. I know of His family. He is not the Messiah.

Anyway, that is what I thought until yesterday. My friend Simeon and I were minding our own business, trying to ignore the crowd on our way to the marketplace. As far as we knew, the people were still celebrating their 'king'.  Then, we noticed, blood-curdling cries and jeers. There were so many people, we didn't know what was going on so we pressed in to get a closer view.

What I saw, made me cringe. Simeon and I looked at each other and turned to leave the craziness, when a guard grabbed Simeon.

I stumbled after my friend who was commanded to help a bloody pulp carry a cross. What could this man have done to deserve such a beating, I wondered. I had never seen anything like it. Crucifixions are common for criminals. Beatings are too. But, there was no resemblance of a human being left in this man. As I ran alongside Simeon, I heard the crowd...'crucify him', 'hey Jesus, where's your power now'. I realized...this was the same man, they were hailing their Messiah the day before. What had he done in twenty four hours that was so horrible?

I was sicknened by the sight and couldn't imagine how this Christ could still be alive. He was struggling for every breath, but He followed while Simeon carried the weight . What kind of people was I surrounded by. I was appalled by the spitting and cursing. I knew these were religious people and I had never heard such hate. I didn't care if this Jesus was a messiah or not, our worst criminals were treated with more respect.

We came to Golgatha. I witnessed huge spikes pounded through his wrists and feet. I wanted to turn away, but I couldn't help myself. I watched as they lifted the  cross and pounded it into the ground.
I hadn't noticed Simeon, but he was standing next to me, his face in his hands. He trembled as he whispered, "He is the Messiah..He is the Messiah.."
My head spun as I stared at the bloody flesh hanging on the cross. The Messiah? Jesus the Christ was our Messiah...hanging out die?

I felt nauseous. Everything grew faint. Although, there was a crowd surrounding me, I was alone at the cross...just me and Jesus the Christ. My heart ached for Him.

Then Jesus spoke. It was a whisper, but it seemed to ring through eternity. "It is finished."

Immediately the sky turned black...the earth started to rumble. Simeon was sobbing,  "He is the Messiah.."
We couldn't move. People were running and screaming. Jeers turned to fear.  But, Simeon and I were there when his family and friends carried His body away.

Later that evening, Simeon told me that Jesus had talked to him.  "He spoke to me about my life and how much He loved me. He looked at me. He could see right through me.." Simeon my big, tough friend, sobbed again. "I know He is the Messiah."

I was so stunned by the whole day, I couldn't sleep. I thought about the blood along the road, about the Christ. I thought about what I learned at Synagogue...'He was despised and rejected - a man of sorrows, acquainted with deepest grief. We turned our backs on him and looked the other way. He was despised and we did not care....He was led like a lamb to the slaughter. And as a sheep is silent before the shearers, he did not open his mouth. ..He had done no wrong..But he was buried like a criminal'.

I finally slept. I dreamed Jesus the Christ spoke to me. 'For you. I died for you.' He wasn't on the cross. He was alive, but I could see the scars all over His body.

Today I still hear echoes of His voice in the silence. "It is finished."
I feel an expectancy in the air...something is happening. I have a feeling, Jesus the Christ isn't finished. I  know that I know,He is mightier than the cross He was nailed to...greater than the grave He was placed in. . . Somehow, I know...He is Messiah. God made flesh. Anything is possible with Him....anything...