It is so quiet.
The air conditioner makes a terrible rattle. Never noticed that before. The clock in the office softly ticks the seconds away. Time is passing. Time did not stand still. I could swear it stood still. Thirteen days.
Two finches land on the feeder outside my window. I sit and stare, motionless. One finch takes a position on an upper branch and watches for the enemy while his partner eats. He waits, rubbing his bill impatiently against the branch, his head making quick little jerks from side to side, watching in all directions. She flies to a nearby tree. He follows. Who will watch out for me? Who will fly by my side?
They say to watch for the signs. Sit quietly and listen. Wait. He will come to you with a blessing, a love message, if you just be patient. I sit. I stare. I listen. I try to quiet my heart, but its anxious beats thud against my chest, deep inside. When will that stop?
I remember, days ago, through unstoppable sobs, I pleaded with him. If you can, honey, please send me a sign. Let me know when you see that beautiful place. Let me know that Jesus is right there, just as He promised. But now I understand. He will not send me a sign. Not now. He already did. Every day of his life. In the way he lived out his faith. I know that now. He is gone. He is sitting in the palm of our Father’s hand and he is reveling in his new-found, glorious home. He is free. He is light. He is laughing. He is telling a joke to his brothers and teasing his sisters. He is holding his dear mother and father in his arms. He is free.
My husband wrote: “I know God is in my corner and when it is my time for Him to take me home, He will. My hope is that all of my family hold fast to their faith, practice it, and that we will all meet again in His House.”
I am not alone. God watches over me. I am surrounded by loving hearts who are slowly showing me the way of my new life. A new journey begins.