A boy walked across the stage in cap and gown and I smiled, knowing he was no longer a boy. He hadn't been for a while really. I watched him laughing and smiling, solemn and sure in this rite of passage, college behind and rest of life stretching ahead.
Behind my eyes, like a cloud blown in front of the sun, I saw the hard things of the past years overlay the joy. For the briefest moment they were melded together; sorrow, loss, joy, pain and triumph--into one incomprehensible whole.
Then the picture cleared.
Tears ran freely for gratefulness. Not for the clearing of the image, but for the giving of it.
It isn't done of course. We don't reach a place where we say, 'I've got this figured out, the work is finished.' Only One could ever say that and really mean it, only One could say, 'It is finished' and see the work of God complete.
The work of Love.
The slow work of God which makes us whole.
You have loved us first many times
and every day and our whole life through.
When we wake up in the morning and turn our soul toward You-
You are the first--You have loved us first;
if I rise and dawn and at the same second turn my soul toward you in prayer, You are the there ahead of me.
You have loved me first.
When I withdraw from the distractions of the day and turn my soul toward You, You are the first and thus forever.
And yet we always speak ungratefully as if You have loved us first only once.
~ Soren Kiekegaard
I watched him walk off stage and laugh with his brothers and sister and I was thankful.
For a work begun and a God who sticks.