Five-Seven-Five

I’m not a poet,
But I often write haiku,
Because I can count.

(Yes, I write bad pseudo-haiku when the mood strikes. Get used to it. It won't be the last time you see it on my blog, but I promise not to inflict it on you too often.)

Although it is the season of Advent, it is Easter in my heart. Hearing the stories about my stepbrother, reading the warm comments from his many friends, the faith which permeated his life and illuminated his every relationship becomes contagious, like his smile.

From the time I heard the news of his death until his funeral, it felt like Black Friday.

A haiku I wrote on my kitchen whiteboard then:

Death seeps like water
Through cracks in the foundations
Of the lives we build.

When Jesus died, the apostles and the others who loved him didn’t know he’d be back. They wept and mourned and felt the darkness fall over their souls. Easter brought light back into their lives.

As the stories about my stepbrother sink in, I feel that his light is not diminished by his death. Because of his faith in Christ and the good life he lived, I am certain of his place in Heaven. Not “I believe,” but “I know” he is with the One he loved most. He showed the Christ-like life by example.

A haiku I wrote tonight:

A light snuffed from earth
Reignites in Heaven high,
Fanned by the Lord’s wings.

Peace be with you.