Today I opened one of your boxes.
There they were.
Your
hiking boots, headgear.
Signs of your life,
things you enjoyed doing.
Those hiking boots had seen lots of wear.
I remember you talking to me about some of your adventures.
Rappelling,
Climbing in the desert.
I saw videos of some of your journeys.
Steep, narrow crevices.
High, vertical rocks and cliffs.
And there you were...
Big smile on your face.
You loved your life.
Seeing your boots
broke my heart.
All those miles of living...
Now
empty, silent soles
in a box.
Yet, as I looked at them
I could hear your voice as you trekked up mountains with your buddies, laughing, joking, giving each other a hard time.
I could feel your hands, rough and torn from grabbing hold of branches or jagged edges.
I could see your strength as you pulled yourself up, muscles strained and strong.
So many scenarios of your active life crossed my mind.
Sigh....
Those boots
told your stories.
Now they rest.
I'm sad.
I shut the box, and ran upstairs.
Sobs escaped
again.
It doesn't seem right.
Nothing makes sense right now.
Although I know that I know God's Word is true,
everything has changed in this life.
Nothing is certain.
I have no control over much, really....probably the way it should be.
I don't feel lost - I know where I'm bound in the end.
But right now, everything seems amiss.
Life goes on and I am a spectator....going and doing, yet feeling disconnected.
I thought I had direction, but right now I see flashing red lights, hear sirens
and I stand still, wanting to run, but knowing this is where I am.
There is a detour, a huge roadblock.
Where to go from here?
Life does go on.
There has to be purpose through all this.
God holds my life in his hands.
The little time allotted is hazy right now.
Maybe one day I'll look at Caleb's hiking boots, think of the miles he covered, and I'll be able to smile.
Right now it breaks my heart that those boots won't climb with his feet marking their steps.
Like the psalmist, I cry out in the depths, and I know my God is there.
Oh how Caleb's miles of living has testified of a life well lived.
I look at my Father and say, my life is in your hands.
I don't understand too much....except that you are God and I am not.
I know that your Word is true and you have to be carrying me.
I cry out, Abba.
Carry on Father.
You say this present suffering is nothing compared to the riches of the glory to come.
I believe.
Even now -
Yes, Father.
I believe.
