Our Little Lives

Alfalfa takes the winter melt

Then basks in quickening sun

Rejoices in rich peacock blue

Then sees its flowers gone.

The smallness of it all a shock

The shortness of its span

Until absorbed in Christ’s rich love

And timeless, joyful Plan.

I’ll leave off with the poetry. A dear and trusted friend once sat across the table from me, smiled and said:

“You know the older I get, the more limited my sphere appears. I love my family. Invest lots of time in them. I do my job in good conscience and see periodic rewards. I have a small clutch of valued friends. We engage in mutual uplift and help and the occasional good time. My plans and ambitions are in jeopardy of shrinking. I battle monotony and self-doubt. I do not connect with the larger initiatives of my community. I wonder if that is all there is for me.”

I identify with a lot of this. I woke up this morning with prayer and requests for blessing in this day. We intend to visit my Mother, age 89 in another city. She is in fine physical condition but suffers pathetic loss of memory. Every visit appears to be enjoyable for her in the moment. But the details are soon jumbled and forgotten. She has one remaining friend, Dorothy, and they chat each day by phone.

In a chaplaincy role elsewhere I have watched other seniors leave this life by increments. I have consoled them by saying that on the eternal scale of things they are still very young. Life goes on for believers in the ever-expanding sphere of Jesus’ love and activity. Read John’s Gospel chapter fourteen. Be enlarged.

http://momentsmidstream.blogspot.ca/search?q=mere+chicks

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issuudotcomslashdewane

Married and father of two. Living in Waterloo, Ontario. Workplace health and safety professional. Blogger. Poet. Nature hiker. History buff. Inspirational writer. Newsboy for Jesus.

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