I walked with the stoics to the cliffs of death . I peered over the same ledge, down into the same ice black waters . and I tried so hard to breathe in the rush of freezing ache . kicking and squirming and trying not to make a sound . while they sat with their … Continue reading Observing Death with the Stoics
For my friend, Frances, on her first birthday with Jesus Left alone with your memory— the fading image, the distant voice are not the wounds I thought they’d be for we are not so very far apart— Heaven has you, and I have Heaven in my heart.
You were just a boy when you came to us— a gentle soul— an artist— with a big smile. We gave you food and water and let you feast your eyes on blue skies, stone mountains, flowered meadows. We led you to the gates of life, unlocked them, pushed them back on creaking hinges, just … Continue reading Choosing Death
The clench of pain, the darkness pressing; the future robbed, all longing wasted; the music quenched, the pleasure hollow; the loves in vain, the friendships fading; all losses sealed, the grief unbroken; all hope unknown, all roads unsteady; a failing breath, and death forever— if Jesus had not risen. .