Seeing Him, hearing Him

Only several days before, the lovely woman who lived down on the corner in a house surrounded by corn fields, passed away unexpectedly.  Her name was Diane, and she was the beloved nurse for the elementary school that lies within whistling distance of my front porch.

Mrs. Brown, as the children called her, died suddenly of drug-related complications.  She’d been ill with breast cancer for several years, not that you would’ve known it when you met her.  A brave and warm spirit she had, her face always wreathed in smiles.  Many a child found solace in her office, including mine, and we loved her for it.

Then, one day – one day! – after her funeral, it happened again.  Death came calling.  Only this time it was right next door.  Our friend and neighbor, Lisa, a 39-year-old mother, fell asleep that bright October Monday and awoke, not to the faces of her two daughters and her husband, but to the face of Jesus Himself. 

We were stricken.  We had coffee’d together, she and I.  Our children had played, jumping on the trampolines and playing hide-and-seek.  We had gone away for the weekend, we couples, and once, we’d even gotten up in the wee, small hours to catch a once-in-a-lifetime eclipse.  Just like that, she was gone.

Now, two years later, we have so many questions, so few answers.  Many, many times, my thoughts have turned to Lisa and Diane.  To their lives.  To their testimonies.  To the legacies they’ve left.

And I hear Him speak.  “Be ready,” He says.  “I am coming.  Witness faithfully as they did to those I place in your path.  Love My children.  Feed My lambs.” 

Their work is finished now, but mine is not.  Neither is yours.  We have a job to do, a calling to fulfill, you and I.  Oh, let us live so that one day, when we awaken to the bright sights and wonderful sounds of Heaven, we will have left something of Him behind for others to hear and see.

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