A Shell

This Fall, Ang and I watched two close friends say goodbye to their mother. She was only 55. I have yet to watch a loved one die but seeing our friends do it so beautifully gave me hope that when the time comes, perhaps I will too.

Two weeks before Kellock died I found myself sitting on her bed, listening to her as she explained how she wasn't afraid to die and how she could feel God calling her home.
She could feel God. . .
As I continued to listen I couldn't help but notice her frail body. The Cancer had reduced her body to something like a shell yet. . .she could feel God. And it showed.

Since Kellock's passing I haven't been able to shake that image. Her physical shell. Her spiritual center.

The difficult thing for me has been the recognition that I'm often the opposite. I'm young, healthy and vibrant yet my centre is. . .unwell. I'm still struggling to feel God. Maybe that's why I read so much. Perhaps I'll feel God there. Feel God. What does that even mean? I long for that. Whatever it means. I hate feeling restless, discontent, frustrated. I'm sick of swivel head, always looking for the next thing. Why can't I just stop trying to create my life and instead embrace what God has already created. . .and called good.

The best thing about Kellock was she didn't wait to feel God till she was 55. She learned to feel him many years earlier. That's what I want.

God willing I'll live another 50-60 years. That's too long to go without feeling God. That's much to long to live a shellish life.

*This is the point of the blog where the Pastor wraps everything up with an offering from the Psalms or a winsome ancedote. Sorry folks, today, I got nothing.

John