A Change of Weather

It’s still raining.  The aftermath of the storm.  We knew it was coming.  Storm predictors warned us of the coming tropical storm as it carved its way toward us, heading on out but leaving behind overcast skies, gloomy weather, and still more rain.

A little over six months ago, storm predictors blew a cloud over her family as the diagnosis was grim.   A short rebound, chemo pills could replace chemotherapy, a short gasp for air.  Then the rapid decline.  It has spread to her brain and spinal fluid. It’s the worst kind.

And we knew. We knew she had been in much more pain than she would ever let us know.  We knew our time was short.  Too short for a mother-in-law who was in all ways her other mom.  Too short for her husband who was her lifelong partner, not just in words, but in heart and deeds.  Too short for her daughter-in-law who was in all ways really the daughter she never had.  Too short for her 8-year-old grandson who knew in his heart how much this hurt, but was too young to have to go through this.

She was too young to have to go through this.  Sixty years of life on this earth.  A life of love, a life of giving.  For if Sharlyn was anything, she was a giver.  The countless hours spent providing for her husband who suffered from strokes well before his time, a mother who too died of the wretched disease that would too soon claim her own life, a mother-in-law who fell too much, broke too much, and now spends her living moments in the confines of a wheelchair.

She gave.  She gave of her time.  She gave of her heart.  And then You came and took. 

“You give and take away.  You give and take away.  Yet my heart will choose to say, Lord, blessed be your name.”

It is true You took her, but in taking, we know You gave so much. 

You gave her time.  Just enough time.  Not too long to suffer too much from the cancer that stole her body, but long enough so it couldn’t steal her soul. 

You gave her a daughter who braved the fear of how she might respond in her final days, how it might end as a broken relationship.  But in that courage, you made a broken spirit whole.  You gave a moment, a prayer, a heart open to Your Word, and a heart to share the very Love of You with a dying woman who needed nothing more than You.

And I watch her now.  Now that Sharlyn’s gone.  And I praise you for her.  I praise You for opening the doors wide open so she could save a soul. 

I watch her now as she grieves.  And my heart cries out to you.  Father, please.  Continue to open her eyes so she sees another door wide open.  For when you took Sharlyn and closed that door, you gave another door for us to walk through.  A door that is daily open into Your Very Presence.  A door that opens into our hearts, that wipes away our tears, and gives us a greater hope for each coming day.

For though it’s raining today, it won’t rain forever.  Time will heal.  And the storm that blew in months ago, leaving an aftermath of overcast hearts, gloomy spirits, and still more rain will not last forever.  For You always promise that in the rain will come the Son, and with the Son comes a change in weather.

“And everything in time and under heaven finally falls asleep.  Wrapped in blankets white, all creation, shivers underneath. Still I notice you when branches crack, and in my breath on frosted glass.  Even now in death, you open doors for life to enter.  You are winter. . .

And everything that’s new has bravely surfaced, teaching us to breathe.  And what was frozen through is newly purposed, turning all things green. So it is with you and how you make me new with every season’s change.  And so it will be, as you are recreating me.  Summer, Autumn, Winter, Spring.”

This was her song.  I happened upon it early after her diagnosis.  I prayed earnestly, passionately for her to soften her heart and ask You, the God of all seasons, to come into her life and change her winter of disease into a spring of eternity. 

And she did.  As she sat in her hospital room just a short time before she would pass, she asked my sweet sister to lead her to Jesus. And they prayed to You.  And she cried.  And in that moment, even then in death, You opened doors for life to enter, and You continue to open doors for those of us left behind.

Left behind, we feel the thickness of the winter cold.  But I’m praying time will heal quickly so all can pass from this season to the next, to the season where a new beginning dawns on the horizon, and all can once again breathe, and not just shallow breaths to get through the day, but deep, wholesome breaths that fill lungs anew.  I’m praying to soon find all things green, in a new spring.  For though the foundation of that family is gone, you can recreate.  And I believe You will.  Because I believe although you take way, you also give, just as she gave. 

And I believe this rain is not the end.  For in all rains, you give promise.  Promise to send your Son to shine upon us and usher in something new.  So we wait.  We wait for you to give and take away.  To take away the rain, the pain, the tears, and the longings.  We wait for you to take away this emptiness and loneliness.  But we also ask You to give, to fulfill Your great promise and send some sonshine.  To take this rain and turn it into a rainbow, giving us brilliant colors of You to fill our hearts, and brighten our days once again.   So Father, although you give and take away, may our hearts choose to say, Lord blessed be your name.  And Father, please send your Son to take this rain and create a rainbow for us all to see, for we really could use a change of weather.