Have you ever read a book, got right to the end and been reluctant to turn the page? I have. Or perhaps you’ve waited through an entire movie for ‘the kiss’ until you read the words THE END and they haven’t. You rewind to make sure you didn’t miss something. ‘That’s it! I mean really, that’s it!’ How many good reads ran out of pages in the middle of your imaginings?
Now the bookmark of eternity is stuck in the last chapter of my life and I’m scared. I don’t want to find that the ‘ink has dried’ on the scribblings of friends; that my children have skipped a few chapters; that my places of significance have been demolished and skyscrapers of progress have left my life hanging in the balance sheets of heaven.
I don’t want to have to miss the chapter where I find my ‘prince’, or end before the kiss. Earthly resources ooze through the hands of planet thieves, yet I’m powerless to steal one more moment of the unearthly. The landscape of my comfort has an expiry date but let that day remain, for now, a secret on God’s lips.
My heart skips and stops in an effort to stave off the inevitable but my journal is relentless and I must turn over. Incredibly, my future spans the blank screen, with another day. The outline is patchy and uncertain, ready for hope that might cross the seas to where, one year soon, my knight might make my day and my grandchildren will read my stories.