On the waves

The sun beat down on us while we climbed: some of us in high heels and dresses, others in cowboy boots and hats, still other in jeans and tennis shoes. The rock wall was an obstacle, yes, but we needed to get to the top. I was impressed with my family's dedication to climbing those boulders, though most of them didn't come dressed for the task.

We sat on the top together in the sunshine, listening to the roar of the ocean. My aunt read a poem, a few words were shared, and then the packages came out. Small, brown paper parcels that contained a heavy rock and the dust of what had once been a loved and loving mother and grandmother.

One by one, her children hurled the paper sacks into the churning waves; five of them, one for each child, though one of the sons wasn't there. The blood red flowers sailed through the air, attached to the parcels and all of it disappeared beneath the blue-green foam.

Tears blurred my eyes. I choked. I couldn't move. And that's when I saw it.

Out on the waves, a red flower floated, a serene spot of color on the green water. From the dark depths it had sprung to float, unconcerned about waves or rocks.

I shaded my eyes, focusing on the flower. And then I saw another...and another...and another...

Four of the five flowers had conquered the darkness and come to the light. Only one was never seen again.

Perhaps its not a prophecy...But perhaps it was a small foreshadowing that 4 out of 5 of those precious babies my grandmother loved so well will conquer the deep darkness of life and spring forth to float on the sea of life, basking in the warmth of Christ's love.

I pray so.

Grandma deserves to be greeted by as many as can meet her on that day.

I've seen more than my share of the darkness of this world recently. I'm ready to be done with it all. No, the end is not yet because we aren't doing the job we need to. But it's coming very soon.

I'm tired of the darkness. Tired of the churning waves. Tired of the consuming cares and sick ploys of a force darker than the darkest night.

And from that tiredness springs the request: please don't sink in the darkness. You were not meant for the sandy bottom.

You were meant to float on the waves.

Join me?