And Yet, I Ponder This

 © Nancy Turley  

'Therefore we do not lose heart, but though our outer man is decaying, yet our inner man is being renewed day by day.”   II Corinthians 4:6

“I would have despaired unless I had believed I would see the goodness of the Lord in the land of the living." Psalm 27:13
       


My heart is rent for those who grieve for a lost spouse, for lost health, for a lost dream.
It aches for those who grasp for healing and find no present cure,
Who hunger for relief in spirit or body while the earth still spins,
Who mourn what cannot be recovered.

And yet, I ponder this:
       Those that have lost know more clearly what really matters.
       Those who cry deeply for their loved ones still celebrate their joy in heaven.
       Those in pain yet hold on to the hope of their calling by the heavenly Artist.

I question why some awaken to deep pain in the night,
How shadows steal rest or joy until they see morning light,
How life is taken unfairly by tongs of the unknown or evil.

And yet, I ponder this: 
     Those who know the Artist know He uses dark and light colors to accentuate truth,
     That melded colors of shadow and light blend together for good,
     That there is still hope for the future and meaning in the present.

I consider how the body ages despite the care one might take.
I ruminate on the “what ifs” of having had more time for a more balanced life.
I contemplate how life is bound to the clock marching forward. 

And yet, I ponder this:     
    That the heart and spirit can be renewed while bones lose density and skin wrinkles.
    That time is both chronos and kairos,
    That we can be lost in moments of joy when time does not beat nor the body decay.

I reflect on unanswered questions, unfilled potential and hearts longing to soar, I contemplate how some still hope while others despair.
I ponder the mystery of faith, those who glimpse that which can’t be seen,
Of those who still seek melody in the midst of a dissonant world.

  And I rejoice as I ponder this:     
      That we can rise as eagles when we rest in the brush strokes of the Artist,
      That there is truth in paradox: we grow in the dark and in dying we live.
      And that those who sing to the celestial Artist harmonize to an eternal beat.