Earthbound

It’s been more than a year since I blogged. Now I am feeling the need to write again, at least on paper and not just in my head.  But the order of the day is dishes and laundry, or should I say week.

The dishes and laundry are both mounting like a dump yard on garbage day. Not a sight one wants to imagine. But this past year since Ron died (Dec. 2013) has been like dwelling in a deep dark hole, a dump yard filled with depression, guilt, and the regrets that are a normal part of grieving. Nothing has felt normal, however, during this time, I have felt lost, trying to find out who I am apart from Ron. I had never lived on my own. We started dating when we were 16 and 19 when I still lived with my parents and siblings until the day I was married—56 ½ years.

Ron was a man of prayer, and I always knew that when he passed, I would feel lost without those supporting prayers, but I could not anticipate how much his prayers sustained me, and how empty I feel without them.

Locked in an almost catatonic state, I have nearly slept the year away in the recliner, days and nights tumbling one into the other. I was so exhausted after Ron passed. Exhausted from my fears and panic, watching him slip deeper into the lostness of dementia and confusion and compounded by my worsening deafness. His soft voice made it nearly impossible to hear him, frustrating us both.

Do I miss Ron? I don’t miss Ron in his condition those final years. I wish he were here in his right mind and his sight restored. I wish our last years could have included doing things we enjoyed when he was well. Taking drives along the beautiful central coast. Watching grandchildren play sports. Going to a restaurant. Even simple pleasures such as these had become impossible.

As I was writing, 2 Corinthians 5 came to mind, “For we know that if our earthly house of this tabernacle were dissolved, we have a building of God, an house not made with hands, eternal in the heavens” (5:1 kjv).

Here is the hope promised to us: When we die believing in Jesus as our Savior God, we will have a body not conceived by human passion, but a God-created body and brain, complete and whole, made to last for all eternity.

As this same verse states in The Message,  “For instance, we know that when these bodies of ours are taken down like tents and folded away, they will be replaced by resurrection bodies in heaven—God-made, not handmade—and we’ll never have to relocate our ‘tents’ again.”

We can be certain that though we are confined here in our human body, we can daily move forward by faith looking to the day we will be living in the presence of our Lord in a whole new eternal body. Here we can’t visually see our transformed body. It may be difficult to believe in that promise when we contend with our imperfections, and diseases of mind and body. So we must hold onto this confidence that when our earthly body dies we will physically be whole and new and forever present with the Lord (5:6-8).

Finally, 2 Corinthians 5:2-5 The Message (MSG) states: “Sometimes we can hardly wait to move—and so we cry out in frustration. Compared to what’s coming, living conditions around here seem like a stopover in an unfurnished shack, and we’re tired of it! We’ve been given a glimpse of the real thing, our true home, our resurrection bodies! The Spirit of God whets our appetite by giving us a taste of what’s ahead. He puts a little of heaven in our hearts so that we’ll never settle for less.”

I am thankful Ron is whole; now he can see. Now he is clear minded. Now he is with Jesus.

Here I am still earthbound; dishes awaiting and laundry half done. Yet, I am looking forward with a bit of heaven in my heart.