I saw death today in a sweet little coffin with a sleeping baby wrapped in a soft white blanket. Usually a quiet occasion, this one was especially peaceful as his parents stood close by to watch over him. They were kind and gracious to visitors while they offered hugs and dignity in the face of what I cannot even imagine.
And even though there is a gospel plan which offers hope and eternity, there must be that brief moment, after a tragic loss, where we think short -term. Where we feel the gut-wrenching sense of loss and things-will-never-be-the-same-again. That has to be allowed.
Then, gradually, our souls come around and convince our minds and bodies to succumb to this idea of forever. Where we realize there is neither beginning nor end to our love. Then, when we have rejoined ourselves, we wrap ourselves up in that white blanket. Together. As a family. And sleep.
A Thousand Years
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