Climbing Rose

E'en for the dead I will not bind my soul to grief;
Death cannot long divide.
For is it not as though the rose that climbed my garden wall
Has blossomed on the other side?
Death does hide,
But not divide.
You are but on Christ's other side!
You are with Christ, and Christ with me;
In Christ united still are we.

I read that poem yesterday in my devotional, "Streams in the Desert," and thought of the two dear women in our close circle who are facing their first Christmas without their beloved husbands. And then I thought of a friend in our Sunday school class who wept speaking of the death of her husband--and she's been a widow as long as we've known her. That kind of grief never really goes away. Yet Christ very specifically offers comfort and eternal hope. And these women, along with dozens or hundreds of other friends, give evidence of it.

Every time I mention death, someone scolds me, as though by saying the word I were inviting the event. I'm not. But this is the truth: death and earth-life are inextricably bound together. Let's not fear, but rather prepare.

My oncologist's nurse called yesterday to say that he had studied my report and had already arranged for a new treatment today. I feel blessed to have a doctor who is conscientious. Thanks for praying for wisdom for him--and for us. Oh, I really need to have a functional brain and body for at least a couple of hours this afternoon or tomorrow morning because of two urgent tasks that didn't get done yesterday. It seems that the chemo that's mean to me tends to be the chemo that also drives down the cancer, so that's what I want. Still, I pray for at least a couple of hours of "daylight."

A word to my grammarian friends: I know that book titles should be in italics. But my version of blogger stopped accepting italics several weeks ago, and I haven't been able to fix it. Every time I use quotes where they don't belong, as in the first paragraph, I feel the need to apologize. There, I did it!

Carol