It’s standing in the dark but knowing the sun will shine again.
It’s an act of trust. Not seeing, but believing. Not holding, but the open hand.
It is why our mourning is not a wailing.
It is rebellion. It sees over the next hill, and heroically begins to walk.
It is a waiting and walking, a striving and staying, a pushing and patience.
It’s another goodbye that’s too hard to say.
It’s knowing that one day, even death will die.
Come Lord Jesus. Come.
June 2016, Flint MI