Do you ever feel overwhelmed at the power of your love and emotions since the loss of your husband or wife? My father marvelled over and over at the strong love he felt after my mom passed. He seemed so anxious to see her in heaven so he could finally let her see his true heart, free from the misunderstandings and awkwardness of this temporal world....
Well, I think my dad would have agreed in whole what I've posted today--"It is the peculiar power of loss to wake within us a dangerously potent love..." It was written just a few days ago by Tim Worsham, and sent to me by his father, Steve, an old friend of mine, faithful pastor, and a really good dad.
So when you get a quiet moment appropriate for this thoughtful and stunningly beautiful piece of word-smithing, fasten your heart. Tim wrote this as a tribute to his Uncle George, and it was read during a private family time after the funeral. My heart goes out to them all, and I deeply appreciate being able to share this with you today. ❤ferree
My heart is with my Vegas family today.
It is the peculiar power of loss to wake within us a dangerously potent love. Until the subtle bonds are severed our ache for the other is imperfectly perceived. But the cut when it comes, in whatever form, sends tremors the full length of us. Our love becomes more urgent in absence more agonizing.
In contrast, our present loves seem pale. But it isn’t true. This love in loss, this aching, raging torrent of grief is the exact love that we were made for. It reaches in desperation past all casual comfort with the full weight of our eternal self behind it. And were our lost ones living, an equal reciprocation would fail. It is this loss that wakes the dormant heart in us, the heart still tuned to the Life that formed us and the Life ahead. A Life only fully lived on the other side. A Life that encompasses our lost and our loss and renders perfect Light.
It is right that, though we heal in part, our wounds stay open. It is true that only a reunion sets us free. We were made to reach from life past loss to Life on the other side. And yes, our lost will be waiting, but not with open arms as we imagine. Their backs will be to us, and their eyes will be leading us further on. Ever onward, ever upward. Where Life and Light and the peculiar and potent Love has its beginning and no end.
My Dear Uncle George will be fiercely missed as the love that he shared was always weighted with a heavy draw from the other side. We won't let go. We'll let the weight of that love lead us through to that sweet reunion. With him and the One who gave him Life eternal.
It is the peculiar power of loss to wake within us a dangerously potent love. Until the subtle bonds are severed our ache for the other is imperfectly perceived. But the cut when it comes, in whatever form, sends tremors the full length of us. Our love becomes more urgent in absence more agonizing.
In contrast, our present loves seem pale. But it isn’t true. This love in loss, this aching, raging torrent of grief is the exact love that we were made for. It reaches in desperation past all casual comfort with the full weight of our eternal self behind it. And were our lost ones living, an equal reciprocation would fail. It is this loss that wakes the dormant heart in us, the heart still tuned to the Life that formed us and the Life ahead. A Life only fully lived on the other side. A Life that encompasses our lost and our loss and renders perfect Light.
It is right that, though we heal in part, our wounds stay open. It is true that only a reunion sets us free. We were made to reach from life past loss to Life on the other side. And yes, our lost will be waiting, but not with open arms as we imagine. Their backs will be to us, and their eyes will be leading us further on. Ever onward, ever upward. Where Life and Light and the peculiar and potent Love has its beginning and no end.
My Dear Uncle George will be fiercely missed as the love that he shared was always weighted with a heavy draw from the other side. We won't let go. We'll let the weight of that love lead us through to that sweet reunion. With him and the One who gave him Life eternal.
By Tim Worsham ©
Tim has also written a short book honoring a young niece that died in infancy, depicting her arrival in heaven and being greeted by her great grandfather. It’s called Shylight, and is available on Amazon.
Tim lives in Golden Valley MN and is a part of Real Life Church in Roseville MN.
Shylight is Christmas as it’s celebrated in Heaven.
Charlie-girl is a Dawnling called from the Far Country when she was only five months old. She and her Great-Grandfather, Don, celebrate her first Christmas in the Bright Lands. There, the celebration is called Shylight.
The full and glorious light of the Promise would have shattered the Far Country if revealed all at once. But the Promise entered, veiled in flesh, to plant a seed that continues to grow, reshaping hearts, ruining them for the Far Country, and fitting them for the Bright Lands.
Charlie-girl is a Dawnling called from the Far Country when she was only five months old. She and her Great-Grandfather, Don, celebrate her first Christmas in the Bright Lands. There, the celebration is called Shylight.
The full and glorious light of the Promise would have shattered the Far Country if revealed all at once. But the Promise entered, veiled in flesh, to plant a seed that continues to grow, reshaping hearts, ruining them for the Far Country, and fitting them for the Bright Lands.
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