On the Watch

A reflection on the almond tree:

Elizabeth wrote a thoughtful comment on the previous post about God being on the watch.  He is. Looking into the Old Testament verse in Jeremiah 1: 11-12, indulge me in this. This link gave me pause.

It is amazing to see beautiful almond trees blossoming all over Israel every winter. They are the first tree to blossom and yet the last to bear fruit. 

The almond tree is associated with one of the earliest prophecies of a young Jeremiah. “Moreover the word of the Lord came to me, saying, ‘Jeremiah, what do you see?’ And I said, ‘I see a branch of an almond tree.’ Then the Lord said to me, ‘You have seen well, for I am watching to perform My word.’”

God is on the watch, taking care of us all, if we only pause to see the wonderment of His goodness.

Also from the referenced link:

The Hebrew word for almond, shaked, is also translated “to watch”. By seeing the almond branch, God assured Jeremiah that He is watching over His word to bring it to pass, no matter the passage of time.

The picture of the two chairs with the sunlight coming down on them was one of the last dozen or so Jack had sent me from the vantage point of his front step, looking out onto their lawn.  Now there is only one person left on earth to occupy that pair of chairs, and Julie is setting her mark on the world in her unique way from her bed, if not her wheelchair.

Things are going well.  Julie is getting through the anger stage of grief, although it will still flare up occasionally when she is especially stressed, trying to heal physically and emotionally. Only a few days ago she told me that she had Stage IV breast cancer, diagnosed in 2012.  She had originally told me the oncologist had diagnosed her as "Stage III plus."  Her pressure wounds have shown no improvement, but as far as we know, she is in remission from cancer.

None of us knows the timing of our demise.  Henri Nouwen's meditation today was apt. 

How we leave others depends largely on how we prepare ourselves for death.  When we can die with grateful hearts, grateful to God and our families and friends, our deaths can become sources of life for others.
  

Jack certainly left a source of life for all of us.  I can only hope to do as well.

Hellen Keller: "In Light of a Brighter Day" essay in memory of Gale Barnwell

A brief acquaintance passed away this week. In memory and honor of her life, here is a podcast that I would like to share, written by Helen Keller, and found here at This I Believe:

I choose for my subject, faith wrought into life apart from creed or dogma. By faith, I mean a vision of good one cherishes and the enthusiasm that pushes one to seek its fulfillment, regardless of obstacles. Faith is a dynamic power that breaks the chain of routine, and gives a new, fine turn to old commonplaces. Faith reinvigorates the will, enriches the affections, and awakens a sense of creativeness. Active faith knows no fear, and it is a safeguard to me against cynicism and despair.
After all, faith is not one thing or two or three things. It is an indivisible totality of beliefs that inspire me: Belief in God as infinite goodwill and all-seeing Wisdom, whose everlasting arms sustain me walking on the sea of life. Trust in my fellow men, wonder at their fundamental goodness, and confidence that after this night of sorrow and oppression, they will rise up strong and beautiful in the glory of morning. Reverence for the beauty and preciousness of the earth, and a sense of responsibility to do what I can to make it a habitation of health and plenty for all men. Faith in immortality because it renders less bitter the separation from those I have loved and lost, and because it will free me from unnatural limitations, and unfold still more faculties I have in joyous activity.
Even if my vital spark should be blown out, I believe that I should behave with courageous dignity in the presence of fate, and strive to be a worthy companion of the beautiful, the good, and the true. But fate has its master in the faith of those who surmount it, and limitation has its limits for those who, though disillusioned, live greatly.
It was a terrible blow to my faith when I learned that millions of my fellow creatures must labor all their days for food and shelter, bear the most crushing burdens, and die without having known the joy of living. My security vanished forever, and I have never regained the radiant belief of my young years that earth is a happy home and hearth for the majority of mankind. But faith is a state of mind. The believer is not soon disheartened. If he is turned out of his shelter, he builds up a house that the winds of the earth cannot destroy.
When I think of the suffering and famine, and the continued slaughter of men, my spirit bleeds. But the thought comes to me that, like the little deaf, dumb, and blind child I once was, mankind is growing out of the darkness of ignorance and hate into the light of a brighter day.
As an infant, Helen Keller was struck by a fever that left her deaf and blind. But with the guidance of her teacher Anne Sullivan, she learned to communicate through the eyes and ears of others. After graduating from Radcliffe College, Keller became a renowned author, activist and lecturer.
In memomy and honor of Gale Elida Bardwell (February 15, 1940 - June 8, 2009)