The Tear
It was deep into the summer, even before air conditioning was around. The heat and humidity were bad enough, but that was not what was making this, perhaps, the worst day of his life. His wife was laying on the bed trying to get whatever rest she was able to. He sat in a chair next to the bed holding her hand. All was quiet and he had become quite reflective.
He turned and glanced at the beautiful woman he married. The twinkle was still in his eyes. He adored her and to him, she was still the beautiful young woman he married many years before. He always loved her eyes. In fact, it was one of the first things that attracted him to her. He would say “what splendid laughing eyes” she had. Her eyes were now closed and he longed to gaze into them again.
It took them only five months to get engaged. They both knew they were made for each other. When they married he was twenty-eight years old and she was twenty-five. They would be married at her grandfather’s house in Savannah, Georgia. They would split the wedding ceremony between two reverends. One reverend was his father and the other reverend was her grandfather. They would honeymoon at Waynesville (I like the sound of that place), which was a mountain resort in North Carolina.
His wife was a very talented artist. She drew sketches and painted. Despite her talent she would give it all up to proudly proclaim that she was his wife. She loved him so much and would do anything to make sure he was a success. He would return the love and always express his pride when she used her talents. When they vacationed he would encourage her to bring along her easel.
They would have three daughters: Margaret, Jessie, and Eleanor. Two of those daughters would marry in the very house where their mother laid with her hand in their father’s hand. Their Mom was originally Ellen Axson and she was born in Savannah, Georgia. Although her ancestors owned slaves she would have a soft spot in her heart for African-Americans and their plight in the inner city slums. She would work to make their lives better.
It is very interesting to walk around town with my wife. Regularly we are stopped by some young person who comes up to my wife and ask, “Do you remember me?” My wife is an elementary school teacher. Although my wife is probably just as beautiful and unchanged by the years that have past, the same can’t be said of these young people as they are entering adulthood. Kids grow up and kids change. Their voices, height, looks, hair style, and a host of other things are nothing like they use to be when they were just little kids. Unfortunately, we all have to let our hands slip out of the grip of childhood. I am, however, very amused by the very puzzled look that covers my wife’s face as she tries so hard to return to the back of her mind, to the land long ago and figure out the child this person use to be.
A proud father once had many children. Everywhere he looked he saw someone whose very existence was in no small part through him. But today was very different. Today, he, too, held the hand of one of his very own as she laid on the bed resting. Their eyes were closed, but, boy did he wish they would just open those eyes and let the twinkle gaze into his eyes as they once did. He wished things could return to the way they once were. He still had so much to offer her. Yet, it would never again be the same. He was very sad. He was also very upset that things had gotten to this point. He tried so very hard, but to no avail.
Ellen’s husband slowly let loose of her hand. He stood briefly near the bed trying real hard to contain his emotions. He slowly drifted to the large window which overlooked the rose garden which she always enjoyed. He thought for a moment. The memories of her staring out this very window, with such a glow on her face, caused a sadness to overcome him. He turned his head once more toward his wife’s lifeless body and there it was, the tear he had been holding back so long. His daughters would say it was the first time they saw their father cry.
How could she be gone, he wondered? They had the perfect life together. They were made to travel through life hand in hand. Now there was no one to place their hand in his. The dark cloud of depression approached. Little did he know then, but that was just the start of the tears. In the future, in those silent moments, his thoughts would always turn toward her and he would not be able to stop the tears from flowing.
Jeremiah was the bearer of the news that God’s hand had slipped out of Judah’s hand. Many years prior He also let go of Israel’s hand and they were hauled away into captivity. As He turned from the window of heaven one can only imagine the sadness. The twinkle in Judah’s eye for Him was now gone. He didn’t let go, they did. In their minds they were bigger than He was. They made their own gods and now they no longer needed Him. Nebuchadnezzar II and Babylon would storm down from the north and take Judah into exile. The great hope He had for the world would now be scattered about.
Woodrow and Ellen Wilson walked into the White House with such high hopes. Things were going so well until it was discovered that she had Bright’s disease. She knew her end was near. She called Dr. Carl T. Grayson, who was one of those attending to her, over to her bedside. She knew he and Woodrow were very close. In her soft, sweet voice she told the doctor to “take good care of Woodrow.” On August 6, 1914, Ellen Wilson became the second First Lady to die inside the White House. Caroline Harrison, Benjamin Harrison’s first wife, also passed away inside the White House almost twenty-two years prior. Wilson would become deeply depressed. His world was completely shattered.
The bandwagon has unlimited seating. All are welcomed to come aboard. If they whistle you on over, they expect you to board. Come on, everybody else is climbing aboard. If you refuse, you are ridiculed and mocked. If you take a seat and decide you want to exit, the only way to depart is to be thrown off. So how was this contraption built?
The bandwagon is built one small piece at a time. In fact, it is much like a present that just shows up under the Christmas tree. Where did it come from? Once opened it looks so appealing. It consumes the passions of all who hold it. Core beliefs are replaced with internal logic. It is a process. It doesn’t overwhelm us over night. Then we convince each other that what used to be wrong is somehow now perfectly normal. All those who fail to fall in line with this new normal are considered to be freaks or out of touch. Then it happens. Our hand slips out of our Lord’s hand. He never moved, we did. God then has no choice but to let us go.
Our founding fathers and their families and neighbors gathered together to fight to form this great country. God took his hand and covered our land with abundance and blessings. We arose with great struggle to overcome the suppression and rewrote the book on personal freedom. But today we stand at the gates of that great freedom and we seemed to have forgotten who brought us to this greatness. It was because we held tight to His hand. My greatest fear is that we are letting go of our grip. We forget that, in God’s eyes, a majority of us does not make one of His wrongs a right. He has let so many other empires go and their decline and exit is what we now read about in the history books.
Prayer: Dear Mighty Father, My heart is truly troubled by all the “acceptable” things we call normal, but Your Word tells us otherwise. We have made wrong right and criticize those who try to correct us. The thunder of destruction can’t be too distant in our future, unless we again grab Your hand. Please help us realize our errors and change our hearts. Amen!
