"The death of an elderly person is like the burning of a small library." (Author unknown (to me)
See His Scribe for Burning of a Small Library - 1
Once, with several family members within earshot, our then three-year old granddaughter Kate asked me (business-like), "What do you want to be when you grow up?"
"A mommy and a grandma."
"You are a mommy and a grandma." Astonished.
"So you're done." Pause. Bewildered: "Now you have to die!"
Months ago I shared with you (on His Scribe) my feelings about being a small library. Now I want to talk about the burning part. Death.
I think about death a lot. I thought about death--morbidly--when I was suicidal in my late teens. I wanted to be rid of myself but was scared to die. It seemed then as if life was too strong to destroy. Now I'm at an age where many of my friends try desperately to cling to life--and can't. Life seems so fragile. I think about death now, though, with anticipation and curiosity. Some of my favorite people are on the other side of that "veil."
I've discovered that the things I have dreaded most, like flying, chronic pain, persecution, and death, may actually prove to be the very things I would embrace if I knew the joy God offers with them. I was always hung up on the dying but that only has to be done once so now I look beyond it.
Firsthand accounts, in Scripture and in books like Don Piper's 90 Minutes in Heaven, assure me the afterlife, for those who are trusting Christ's merits not our own to get us there is going to be great! Colors that go beyond our known spectrum, music with harmonies more beautiful than we can even imagine--and the presence of the One who loves us and Whom we love more than anything in this world--literally!
So what we call "death" must be absolutely, unbelievably, fabulously, marvelously delightful and fulfilling. "In His presence is fullness of joy and at His right side are pleasures forevermore," the Bible says. Pleasures! Forever! And productive things to do, like ruling cities.
I don't mind the library burning but I want to transfer its contents to other libraries before it burns. I'd hate to have all that accumulated knowledge wasted.
Today I am thankful for hope beyond this life.