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Friday, February 3, 2017

Standing at the edge of a grave...or...why it is better to have loved and lost.



Dearest loved one...

I felt your pain as we stood in the cold misty rain yesterday...

Staring into a deep, clay-colored hole in the forest floor...

Cardboard box by your side.

Out of the corner of my eye I saw another grave...draped in a shroud of soggy, colorless leaves...

Of another pet we had loved and lost...our never-too-smart, but dearly loved rescue dog from Mexico...Venga.

I would have given anything to spare you the pain I saw written on your face.

First Corinthians does a great job of telling us what love is...

But it doesn't touch on the heart-wrenching pain that love brings.

At times like this, it can be so hard to remember that this is not all there is...

That this cramped hallway we call life here, leads to Life There.

As Dad shoveled the clods of dirt onto Smeagol's box, a thought penetrated my daze...

Smeagol is not here! He's There...with Venga!

I could envision Venga prancing up on her back legs, goofy look in her eyes as she bent down to nuzzle Smeagol...

Who was purring with delight at finding a familiar friend...a loved one...waiting for him There.

And Smeagol was whole again!

Plump, with lungs that no longer labored for each breath...restored...and deliriously happy!

I wanted to smile and high-five a God who makes all things new, but I dared not.

"Why does God have to take the things we love?" you sobbed.

I wish I could have answered you yesterday with what I know today with all my heart...