A tear trailed its way down her cheek as she stared into the fire that held the last six years of her life. For three hours she had stood watching her blood sweat and tears being reduced to nothing but a pile of ash. At this point she could only comprehend what was going on around her as a ballet of firefighters and police, dancing to a song of sirens and shouting.
They had moved into the house together, the new beginning of a partnership of love. Pouring her heart and soul into every section of living space, she created a home from what was once only wood and brick. It seemed that everything that she knew, everything that defined who she was resided within those walls. Everything she had became ingrained within the wood that was now blazing before her very eyes.
A shift in the wind brought the smell of tinder to her, and she pulled the blanket one of the rescuers had placed on her shoulders tighter.
“Honey?”
She knew that she should know the face but at the moment she could not place the person who stood in front of her.
“Let’s get you out of here. You should go try and rest, the police will get in touch with us tomorrow if they find anything.”
She was aware of nodding in agreement, but to what she could not tell you. Slowly she was ushered away from the curb directly across from the scene and to a waiting car. As she dipped into the back seat of the waiting vehicle she turned her head and took one last look back at the building that in a few hours would be nothing but a few coals and embers. One last look at what had defined her for six years, what she had allowed to label her very identity.
The news would report about the mystery of a fire that had gutted a four bedroom, two bath house in a little less than five hours. She knew the next day there would be plans that would have to be made, new situations to contract for her and her family, but before she shut the door of the car, she threw the lighter that she held hidden in her hand, clinging to for the last three hours, into the gutter.
Psalm 39
For the director of music. For Jeduthun. A psalm of David.
1 I said, "I will watch my ways
and keep my tongue from sin;
I will put a muzzle on my mouth
as long as the wicked are in my presence."
2 But when I was silent and still,
not even saying anything good,
my anguish increased.
3 My heart grew hot within me,
and as I meditated, the fire burned;
then I spoke with my tongue:
4 "Show me, O LORD, my life's end
and the number of my days;
let me know how fleeting is my life.
5 You have made my days a mere handbreadth;
the span of my years is as nothing before you.
Each man's life is but a breath.
Selah
6 Man is a mere phantom as he goes to and fro:
He bustles about, but only in vain;
he heaps up wealth, not knowing who will get it.
7 "But now, Lord, what do I look for?
My hope is in you.
8 Save me from all my transgressions;
do not make me the scorn of fools.
9 I was silent; I would not open my mouth,
for you are the one who has done this.
10 Remove your scourge from me;
I am overcome by the blow of your hand.
11 You rebuke and discipline men for their sin;
you consume their wealth like a moth—
each man is but a breath.
Selah
12 "Hear my prayer, O LORD,
listen to my cry for help;
be not deaf to my weeping.
For I dwell with you as an alien,
a stranger, as all my fathers were.
13 Look away from me, that I may rejoice again
before I depart and am no more."
I am not sure what more needs to be said here. Or what light I can shed on what I have written. I tried to be pretty plain. But the question still remains, have you become so wrapped up in the day and the work that you forget Who it is all for? Have you poured yourself into brick, soil, or even flesh expecting to find relief?
"But now, Lord, what do I look for?
My hope is in you."
Throw a match to it all. Burn it down, for it just a house of mirrors an illusion of the heart, that has not breath nor life.
Much love,
A.
Posts
