Melodies in Grief

There she was, in the kitchen, filling only one dish where before would have been two. And the low tunes of a familiar song sounded out of her lips, solemn in their truthfulness.

Come, now is the time to worship . . . 

Now? Surely not now. Now was a time to grieve. Who would have thought of worship? After all, Grandpa had just been buried. Surely it wasn't time to worship yet.


But it was--it is. And I wonder if Grandma knew what she was singing as she pittered about the kitchen--wonder if she knew what she proclaimed to her granddaughter and a watching world.

And as I write I remember the old story that tells of David's reaction when his child died.

"Then David arose from the earth and washed and anointed himself and changed his clothes. And he went into the house of the LORD and worshiped."

Wow. This is just what Grandma has done--what Dad has done too, I believe. When we were in the hospital with Grandpa, there were a lot of tears. On the way to the hospital. In the waiting room. And lots of urgency, frustration, fear on those trips to and from, each time wondering if that goodbye was the last.

But now he's home and that changes everything.

We know we can't battle death anymore 'cause truth is the battle was fought 2,000 years ago and on that cold December morning we knew what it meant. We saw with our eyes what only faith can grasp. So it's true; now is the time to worship.