He Still Opens Blind Eyes

Something made a noise over there, in the dark.

The phone had gone off before, so many times. Too many; when each time it made your heart stop.

Please...not that.

Ethan reached over and flipped open the screen. We both squinted against the light while, blearily, our eyes focussed.

And then I read what we all knew was coming.

He was gone.

I knew it was his time. All I could feel was a deep calm at first, until all the memories came back; how excited he was to see us at Thanksgiving, the last thing he said to me before we left, his stories, his sense of humor, helping him stack wood when we were little, singing all the Bible songs with him while we went down the road in his old pick up truck, hearing him sing to us over the phone for every birthday, the clothespin story that we always begged him to tell (all the way from ten years old, to nineteen) some things never change ...but then, they do.

I heard him explaining the scene as Blind Bartimaeus pressed through the crowd of Jews surrounding the Lord. It was so real that Papaw even cried.

Bartimaeus knew that all hope for healing lay in touching Jesus, but there was no way to get to him.

A blind man couldn't find his way in such a crowded street. "JESUUUS!!..Thou Son of David! Have MERCY ON ME!!!!"  And he cried louder and louder, as the people chastised him for making a scene. But in the middle of that huge throng, way up the street, somehow Jesus heard, and turned back for a blind man.

My heart ached as I realized, once again, Jesus had turned to a blind man and healed the incurable. Somewhere in heaven, those eyes are open and clear. He can run and not be weary, he can read all the scriptures that he had put to memory, he can stand strong and straight.

I pushed out of the covers and found my journal. The only words that sounded right were praying ones, so I began to pray.

12-9-15

Lord, it's so strange; how you can miss someone when they've only just left.

The text woke me up just a few minutes ago. They said he had gone home to be with You.
I'm so thankful that he stayed the Christian battle, and now, after all his believing, he can see You with eyes that are perfectly whole.

But we're still on this natural side, Lord, and with our natural eyes, we see his empty chair.

Thank you for the time that you let him stay with us. For all the sweet memories that ache so hard right now. For Your faithfulness to welcome home a tired soldier.

Be with my Mom right now, I know she's awake, too. It hurts not to be with her, but I know that You are.

Please go to all my aunts and uncles, wherever they are, and be so very real to them as they struggle to comprehend that he's gone.

Hold Mamaw, Lord. She's been such a good wife. You heal the broken in heart and bind up their wounds. Please dry her tears tonight, let her feel Your presence, and draw strength from You.

Comfort all the grandkids; I'm sure some of them will just be finding out in a few hours. You said "Blessed are they that mourn, for the SHALL be comforted"

We hold to Your promises like Papaw always did - we know Your strength is made perfect in weakness. You see all our tears, understand the raw ache of loss, know exactly how, even this, will work together for good in our lives. Thank you for this overwhelming peace; truly, we don't sorrow as those who have no hope.

We love you.

In the name of Jesus Christ

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He Still Opens Blind Eyes