Death has been on my mind for more than a year. I can trace its shadow back to a strange origin: The birth of my daughter.
I think about it every night, as we put her to bed. We help Olivia into her pajamas, watch her brush her teeth, read "Goodnight Moon" together, and say a prayer. The lights go out. The rocking chair creaks, Olivia sighs in her sleep, and my own mortality grips me. And holding her there in the darkness, I'm filled with a holy ache. The close of the evening is one tiny goodbye in a lifelong string of goodbyes.
I can't help but whisper Jesus' name. I hold my daughter tight, and I cling to the Gospel all the tighter.
Friday, March 31, 2006
Deep thoughts while kissing your child goodnight...
Rob over at Love and Blunder posts Theology for the Dying and Dead. He writes: