i’m learning to view death through the lenses of redemptive Grace,
a God-moment where heaven leans in so closely, sobered by our mourning what was,
all the while carrying solace and anticipation in the knowing
the moment pointing their gaze to the One who was, the One who is, and is to come — 
in everything dead eventually creating space for new life; 
each instance a tiny prophetic act of resurrection,
of birthing beauty from pain,
a revealing of the Divine’s true nature.

yes, ashes to ashes and dust to dust,
but the in-betweens that make this truth more cyclical than linear are what inspire my hope and confidence.
in them i find promise
in them I find permission to question, to voice my fears — knowing,
that like winter into spring,
as the God-breath into the inanimate clay,
like the King who embraced death and whose last breath was not the last word,
that death will always lend itself to life
here I anchor my hope and confidence in Her goodness
lifting my hallelujah to the God of the redeemed.

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