A while back, a dear friend sent me an email with a father's story in it. I print it with my friend's permission, provided that I kept it anonymous--and so I've take out some references (like the city) to do what I can to make it so. It was a comfort and inspiration to me, and I hope it will be to you, too.
I am compelled to write a few words as I send this to you - when my Dad was in the care home here in Wherever, he used to sit in a chair outside the door of his room, watching the RNs, LVNs and other people walking back and forth, to and fro, before him. One day when I arrived for a visit, tears were coursing down his cheeks, and when I asked "What's the matter, Dad? Why are you sad?" He replied in a broken voice...." I know some of these folks are going down to the River, but they don't ask me to go with them, and I am ready to cross." It hit me like a thunderbolt - he was thinking of the River Jordan and ready to move on to the next phase of his life in the hereafter. My throat clogged with tears and I could not utter a sound ... I remember gathering him into my arms and mumbling something about the day would come when he too could journey across the River.
Is it passing, or is it dying? Whatever, it is moving on and we will all get there sometime or other.Some days I yearn to get in the boat to cross the River, too. And one day, when God is ready for me, I'll cross over. I think I'm ready now, but obviously God doesn't agree, and He's a whole lot smarter than me.
Lord, Help us remember that everything is beautiful in its time--not before, not after. In Jesus's beautiful Name, amen.