Dust to dust

Babies born, children tended like spring flowers in the field in front of our house, wild and free and unaware of their breathtaking beauty and freedom.

Upstairs a cancer sister lies dying in her yellow skin, lips in a peaceful smile over teeth still much too young and pearly white for whispering goodbyes. Two weeks ago she was teaching classes. Now she is teaching her children what dying well looks like.

Downstairs is the pre-operative holding area. They don't try to rename it anything to hide it's function. It's the cattle yard. It's where they keep you behind the stanchions until the men with knives are ready for you. I wait with my friend and I hold her hand tight and my lips tighter, a well of knowing like a dam held between two thin lips because she doesn't need to know. She asks me why I was afraid when I had surgery and I just answer, "For the same reasons you are." She smiles. We are new sisters on the cancer journey, her just starting out, "pitching her tent in the land of hope" (Acts 2:26). Perhaps, for her, surgery will be her cure.

Life is so beautiful. So mixed up. So incongruous.

That is what you see in my brown eyes when you look deep, my nine-year-old inquisitive soul-connector daughter. How can I tell you any of this?

Another nail in another coffin
Arms that held you return to dust
Yet in our grief we know death must be a liar
For no goodbye is ever good enough
How could it be everything sad is coming untrue?

Every father helpless and angry
Every mother with her heart on the shelf
Every daughter whose innocence was stolen
By every son who couldn't help himself

The winter can make us wonder
If spring was ever true
But every winter breaks upon
The Easter lily's bloom
Could it be everything sad is coming untrue?
Could you believe everything sad is coming untrue?

Broken hearts are being unbroken
Bitter words are being unspoken
The curse undone, the veil is parted
The garden gate will be left unguarded

Could it be everything sad is coming untrue?
Oh I believe everything sad is coming untrue
In the hands of the One 
Who is making all things new

When the storm leaves there's a silence
That says you don't have to fear anymore
The trees look greener, the sky's an ocean
The world is washed and starting over