Wednesday, August 24, 2016

Ponderings on Momentary Life

  My cousin's fish died yesterday.
  A strange way to open a blog post. Such an insignificant part of life, but a part that affected me.
  We have been fish-sitting for a few weeks while our cousin was away.  He came to us in old-ish age and we worried over him and coaxed him to live and prayed that he would survive long enough to get him back to her.
  We didn't know his name.  (I think I knew at one point...was it Julio?  I usually called him Buddy or Dude.)    

  Julio (if that was indeed this fish's name and not the name of one of his fellow-fishes belonging to said cousin) became part of our life for a few short days.  He would hang motionless in the water & we'd talk to him or tap his bowl, willing him to swim, or wiggle his fins, or show some sign of life. Suddenly, he would whirl about as if waking from some daze.  He'd do some speedy circles at the surface of the water and then pause, as if tired from the exertion to prove his alive-ness. 
  He was a people fish,...of sorts.  He liked "being part" of our conversations when we had guests over.  We found humor in his attentiveness when we watched the Olympics, especially swimming.

  And then I came in from school and he was very still.


  You may be laughing. What kind of kook gives a eulogy for a fish?  But his death came at a pivotal point in my life.  (It seems that most points in my life, when I look back on them, are, or have been, able to be described as "pivotal".)
  I remarked to Kyrie as we sighed over him, "I'm so tired of death."  

  Our dear friend at church, a man with whom we had served, and taken a mission trip, and fellowshipped with, and called "uncle" from the start, passed away a few days ago after a brief battle with cancer. 
  His passing caused me to reflect on other losses, my grandmother's and grandfather's deaths two years ago and a year ago, respectively, and a dissolved friendship. 

  When loss happens, how do we respond?
  For my "uncle" and my grandparents, I do not mourn as if I will never see them again.  In Christ Jesus, I have an eager expectancy that one day we will be reunited.  They trusted in Him and received His forgiveness and eternal life and I, who have done the same, expect to join them in my Lord's presence when I, too, pass from this life. 
  The friendship, while it has been painful to lose, has also been a case orchestrated by my merciful and all-wise Father.

  And Julio, as small a bit of existence as he was, helped me to see the beauty of another day of struggling, fragile life and was another stepping stone in my journey with knowing my Savior Jesus better and resting in Him.