Comfort

Ann at Holy Experience wrote this last week. It fit my feelings so well as we were preparing for Krystal's funeral.

I also wanted to share the following that was handed out at the visitation last weekend:

I am standing upon the seashore. A ship at my side spreads her white sails to the morning breeze and starts for the blue ocean. She is an object of beauty and strength. I stand and watch her until at length she hangs just where sea and sky mingle with each other.

Then someone at my side says: "She is gone!"

"Gone where?"

Gone from my sight. That is all. She is just as large in mast and hull and spar as she was when she left my side, and she is just as able to bear her load of living freight to her destined port.

Her diminshed size is in me, not in her. And just at that moment when someone at my side says: "She is gone!" there are other eyes watching her coming, and other voices ready to take up the glad shout: "Here she comes!"

And that is dying.

Anonymous