The Stones

Finally, they arrived.  Stones on the back of a truck.  Stones that were cut from bigger stones.  Silent stones that spoke the words of a story.  Like someone waiting midst an Advent vigil, I had waited.  One month, then two.  More came until they numbered eight and then the truck came carrying the stones.  When it seemed like it would never happen, a call came saying the day had come, and then all the waiting and anticipating was done.   

Standing there seeing those stones for the first time was a moment of relief that everything was finally done, but also a moment of overwhelming sadness that life's journey had brought me to such a place.  As a seven year old boy whose father went to work one day not to return, I have learned about grief.  There is a sense in which I have lived with it all my life.  Maybe we all do after that first moment of saying good bye.  No matter how well we manage to go on living living after loss, grief never goes completely away.  It hangs around in the heart and in some "out of the blue" moment, it comes back into the present opening a storehouse of memories and sometimes releasing a torrent of tears.  

Perhaps, this sudden surprising moment of grief reminds us that we are no longer living with a grief that is so dark it directs our every thought and move.  The Word of God says, "Weeping may linger for the night, but joy comes with the morning."  (Psalm 30:5)  A  verse a little later in that same chapter speaks of God turning our grief into dancing and being given the garment of joy.  (vs. 11)  What God is able to do for those of us who grieve seems as impossible as moving a mountain, but He, nonetheless, will come when we are ready to receive Him to bring us joy for the journey and hope as a new companion for the future.