Sunday, 29 January 2012

A Love Stronger Than Death

Boker Tov;Mark had a bad night's sleep, so we didn't make class today. I just let him sleep in.
It's cool; there are things that need to be done around the apartment.
I awoke thinking of my friend Rose (not her real name)  this morning. A lovely woman, both inside and out.  Quiet of heart and spirit with a beautiful smile. I remember her husband Ray, (not his real name) who was just as sweet and gentle as she. True soul-mates
I was drinking my coffee and reading my facebook page when I notice a post from the very person I was thinking of.
Six years ago tomorrow, Rose's soul-mate slipped into the Presence of G-d.
Her pain, her tears are as fresh and raw as if it was yesterday.
I remember praying  for Ray, believing for G-d to heal him.
 And G-d. By taking him home.
The tears of a widow.
As an army wife, I have held in my arms a young widow, her tears soaking through my blouse, feeling her body shake with sobs and heartache.
I could only say and do for Rose the same time I said to that widow several years ago: I allowed her to cry, I listened as she spoke.
And I prayed for her.
I prayed that The G-d of all comfort, comfort her with the comfort that only He can give.
I prayed that The Holy One would engulf her with His love.
Six years.
Yes, Mark has been gone two and a half years on deployments. But he has always come back to me.
My friend and sister in faith, she will one day go to her beloved; he will not return to her.
A Love that is stronger than death. The very flames of death cannot quest it...
Song of Songs 8:6-7 "Place me like a seal over your heart, like a seal on your arm; for love is as strong as death, its jealousy unyielding as the grave.
It burns like blazing fire, like a mighty flame.
7 Many waters cannot quench love; rivers cannot sweep it away."

Mark is now up, making himself a cup of coffee, Montague on his heels.
Puzzled by the expression on my  face, "Why are you looking at me that way?"
"I can't look at you?"
He just smiled, took a sip of coffee.
In this moment, I look upon him whom my soul loves, thankful for my blessing. My beloved husband, our precious Montague.
I don't complain about the dirty socks on the floor or tripping over his boots. Because it means my husband is home.
My thoughts turn to Rose again. She would glad for dirty socks.
But I also know this. Through the pain and tears, she knows where her beloved's soul is, that one day she shall be with him again, never to be apart.
Once again, I am reminded of the book of the Narina series, The Last Battle, the last page, the last chapter:

 There was a real railway accident,” said Aslan softly. “Your father and mother and all of you are–as you used to call it in the Shadowlands–dead. The term is over: the holidays have begun. The dream is ended: this is the morning.”
And as He spoke He no longer looked to them like a lion; but the things that began to happen after that were so great and beautiful that I cannot write them. And for us this is the end of all the stories, and we can most truly say that they all lived happily ever after. But for them it was only the beginning of the real story. All their life in this world and all their adventures in Narnia had only been the cover and the title page: now at last they were beginning Chapter One of the Great Story which no one on earth has read: which goes on forever: in which every chapter is better than the one before.”

(C. S. Lewis, The Last Battle (HarperCollins: New York, 1956) p. 228.)

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