Behind the Waterfall

It is Sunday morning and several things are happening. I must go to church and two of my grandchildren leave today. Having them here has been my attempt to get to know them although they have been very "tied up" with the El Paso grandchildren. It has been one big party all week. As a result of this, my grief has been minimal, seeping out only at night or when they are gone. Next to my desk is Hans' tie, watch and glasses. Things from which he was inseparable. Now it looks like he has been raptured and only his effects remain, body gone. Yesterday I was able to make a joke—not finding Hans' favorite bbq brush, I said, "Dad must have taken it with him."

The day before, Emmie was triggered by the swimming pool, remembering Grandpa taking her for a dip when she was little. The grief moments are less and what I am waiting for is the ability to think about H. with only joy and happiness. It's also odd that I have prayed for many people going through loss and Jesus took away their pain with just a simple request. But for me there is no respite except the passage of time and the sifting through the muddled feelings.

Sometimes I blame God, sometimes I blame Adam, sometimes I blame myself, sometimes I blame the cat.  I pour over pictures, memories, and events together, but after all is said and done, it still feels like I am at the end of the road. The truth is that I have turned the corner only I haven't been looking at my horizon—so deep into the details of life have I been. I must keep focused on the bigger picture.

On a wonderful note, Benjamin, Julianne's child has turned out to be a evangelist and has greatly influenced the other grandchildren who were open to truth. They are taking bibles home with them and are actually excited about it. Benjamin told them they HAD to change their lives and follow Jesus. So last night they laid in all their beds reading their Bibles. Shame on me. This morning Reese and I rummaged through all the Bibles looking for one that she liked. "Pray to the Lord for harvesters for the field is white with harvest." It was yesterday's meditation. But right under my own nose?

It feels like there are two clocks by which I live—an outer clock and an inner one. The outer one is rushing by...filled with dinners, friends and appointments. The inner clock moves slowly and quietly and measures time by the memories.  Honestly, I really miss Hans. I miss him the most at the end of the day when we found refuge in one another and from the world. Even the world of our children and we just found one another. Like the author of "The Shack"Bill Young says, he is just behind the waterfall. And until this mortal puts on immortality there will be no sighting.