On the Threshold

Sylvie,

For a large part of this past year I've been carrying our dream key around with me, wherever I go. Remember when we made the decision to buy our own place together in happier days. You had just started back to work and were looking forward to impacting those many little lives, trying to bring a little joy, a little hope into otherwise tragic existences. We'd also be earning that little extra money to enable us to get a place of our own. Remember that walk we went, when we planned out our future together, so grateful that God had blessed us as he did, so grateful for each other. I never told you this, but once we reached the top of that hill, I wanted nothing more to buy the plot of land we were standing on and build our house there and then, our house with that fantastic view looking out over the bay, looking out over our future, not a cloud in the sky.

The very next day I went to the estate agent's. Amazingly, there were still one or two plots still available exactly where we wanted to build our house. I asked for the papers to be drawn up immediately. I guess I felt any delay would be fatal. It was on our way back I saw that metal key in the bric a brac shop. I couldn't resist the temptation. It seemed so lonely, just as if it needed someone to buy it. That was to be our key. I swore there and then, if we ever did get our house, I'd have all the locks fitted to take that key.

The estate agent phoned up a few days later. The papers were ready. We could sign when we wanted. Things moved quickly from there. The estate agent himself recommended a suitable entrepreneur and plans for the house were soon drawn up. Dad was so pleased at the news that he immediately announced he would finance half the project, as he had done for Andy and Philip before. What more could we hope for. That evening we announced the news to Ron and Janice at church and had an impromptu prayer session, giving thanks to God for so much goodness. We were his children and he was showering his love and blessings on us.

How little did I think then of those who weren't so well off as we. Did God not love them in equal measure? Or was he simply not really Lord over all, fateful chance also exercising its mighty power and somehow limiting God's ability. I remember hearing one of those believe and God will bless preachers and thinking how wrong it all sounded, yet here I was thinking the same thing in my life.

But this was no time to succumb to such macabre thoughts. We had the whole of life and the whole world before - and, as we knew God on our side.

The evening before your birthday I was still riding that cloud. Then I came home. I saw your face, your tears. I heard the words. And I couldn't believe. We had a future ahead of us. This ugly monster was rearing its head in the wrong story. It just couldn't be true. Our world was breaking down, yet you seemed so calm, so sure. And where was God now? Strangely enough it didn't even occur to me to ask the question. I guess, that was the first real sign of his love for me; he knew full well I'd not have been able to cope with that question then.

Then came the tests. All that waiting at the hospitals. Then waiting for the results. And finally the long, final wait for to get the specialist's view. How often in those long dark days did we waver? It was only human. We were only human. Yet, again we experienced God's grace amidst all that pain. Never did we waver together. One of us was always just strong enough to hold up the other.

I remember that old woman in the specialist's waiting room. I doubt she realised what we were waiting for. Even there, you're smile and assurance was able to bring some warmth to another. And the news wasn't as bad as we'd feared. It wasn't good but it could have been worse. An operation and good chances of a complete recovery. Is the doctor telling the truth? Will I see you again?

That key is still around my neck. Maybe if you wake up tomorrow, I'll bring it to you and we can dream again. But our dream will be different. It'll be about people, not possessions. And our confidence in God's love will be even stronger without all he's given us.

In this assurance I wish you a blessed sleep. I'll be with you throughout the night and I'll be there when they bring you back tomorrow. I love you.

Jim

4 comments:

this was lovely,, and what a keep sake of a letter it will be....

17 November 2007 at 21:45  

Wonderful...profound and poignant.

17 November 2007 at 23:55  

beautifully written!

18 November 2007 at 22:54  

Beautiful, just beautiful....

26 November 2007 at 13:29  

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