The Lucky Ones
The lucky ones don’t care any more. They don’t have to; their time here is done. They have moved beyond time and place, and though their bodies have returned to earth, their souls soar beyond the stars.
Take me to that place beyond the stars; that is all I ask of You this morning. For a day, for a second - I’ll take whatever You can spare for this one request.
This world is in trouble, and my personal world is in disarray. Wars and rumors of wars persist. My body ages, and death, though not imminent, is sure to come.
At death, I shall know as I am known, and at my advanced age surely my ticket on the eternal roller coaster is in the mail.
Please - don’t make me wait for the postman. Give me a preview of what is to come, that I may then return to this tiny, troubled life, fully assured that the daily struggles are worth it.
I meditate, I pray, I do good as I know how. I see You in my fellow earth mates, and celebrate nature’s wonders. I have laid my life and my future on the line for You the best I know how, and been generously rewarded here in my tiny insignificant life.
But - God help me - it is not enough. I don’t have enough God in me (yet) to carry me through the remaining years of my sojourn here.
I have nothing more to give or receive, and I’m at the end of my wits. By that I mean I have no more clever techniques up my sleeve to love, know, and serve God.
The tried and true practices of the ancients elude me. I have regressed to childish ignorance of what it takes to know and be God in this life, and as a growing child I’m starved for nutrients and adventure.
Smile at me as a mother does her baby; cradle me in Your arms as a father his beloved son and do not leave me here to grieve alone this fallen day.
Take me up and away, far beyond the stars, that I may return to this life knowing every inch of struggle is loved by You. Only then shall I
know the luck that is life, for there is no death.
Sharon Keene
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