How Long Is the Dash?
Nick’s gravestone has finally already been installed, and I have come to see it for your very first time. I have been looking forward to this day and dreading this day in the same measure. For months I have had to visit an unmarked grave, the patch of uncovered earth with no method to identify the name of the precious person who lies beneath it. Surely our son deserves so much better. Yet since it comes to it, I also hate seeing his name carved on a slab of stone. There is certainly something so unnatural about this. So kampfstark. I can’t evaluate if this gravestone will be the final honor connected with his life or maybe the final indignity related to his death.
I read through aloud the words I prepared months back. At that time they were fleeting black characters drawn on onto a flickering white screen; at this point they are permanent white-colored characters etched onto a polished dark stone. It was important to me then, plus remains important to myself now, that his Christian faith is made as explicit in his death as it was in his life. Within a place where so many are buried beneath vapid platitudes plus trite iconography, I would like the world to know that this particular man loved Christ and has gone to become with him.
Mar five, 2000 – Nov 3, 2020
Loyal son to Tim and Aileen,
kind sibling to Abigail plus Michaela,
devoted fiancé to their beloved Ryn,
faithful follower of Jesus Christ.
This individual fought the good combat,
He completed the race,
He kept the faith.
My eyes return to those people two dates as well as the dash between them. I actually wonder: How long is that dash? How long is the fact that single little personality we use to individual the date associated with birth from the time of death? Could it be an inch? Could it be two? In a sense it doesn’t matter, but in a sense it matters a great deal, due to the fact encapsulated in that series is the story of a life lived after that lost, a life begun then finished, a life recognized then mourned. For that old man buried within the plot just over and above, the distance between the right and left edge of that splash tell of a full, wealthy threescore and ten. For the little girl in the next row it signifies mere months. To get Nick it represents 20 years: March five, 2000 – Nov 3, 2020.
I visualize, for a moment, that this dashes on every gravestone here might be made proportional towards the length of the life lived. Those who died within infancy, whose earthly life was measured in minutes or hours, might have the dash no longer than a fraction of an in .. Those who died in childhood might have fifty percent an inch. Nick was given 20 years, so perhaps his can measure the full in .. And so it goes, two inches towards the 40-year-old, four in . to the 80-year-old. Perhaps a little bonus could be awarded to the few who reached their 100th birthday. Got old Methuselah already been buried under a headstone here, perhaps his dash would span several feet across an absurdly elongated monument.
And then I wonder, how long is eternity? How long is permanently? What kind of dash might represent the life that has a beginning but no end? How long will be the line that starts on March five, 2000 and extends for 10, 1000 times 10, 500 years? That collection would extend outside of the edge of this monument, carry beyond the boundaries of this cemetery, and pass the borders of this city. It would reach Canada’s beautiful Maritime provinces, stretch across the chilly Atlantic, and touch the Western shores of Europe. It will carry across the uncovered steppes of the Eastern, leap the Himalayas, cross the Hard anodized cookware continent, and plunge into the mighty Pacific cycles. After thousands of mls across the deep sea floor it would obtain land again, cross Canada’s prairies, and finally return once more in order to Oakville. But also then, it would be just getting started, for it might begin another circumnavigation of the planet, then one more. It would stretch forever farther than the area of this earth, it might wrap infinitely plus eternally around and around this great earth. That’s the true period of life, the truth length of the dash, for immortal souls made in the image of an undead God.
I have little capacity to grasp eternity, to assume forever, to understand exactly what begins but by no means ends. My thoughts is too weak, our imagination too limited, my vision as well clouded. Yet this is the promise God has made, that those who put their faith in Jesus receive existence eternal, that those who also accept his gift of grace are usually granted life endless, that those who expire in him will certainly reign with your pet forever and actually.
I am each challenged and encouraged by the thought. We often lament the particular brevity of Nick’s life, the abruptness of his departure. I often question what significance there may be in a life which was only 20 years long. But if our dashes extend endlessly in to the infinite reaches of your time and space, there is certainly little difference between one inch or two, between the 2 inches or 4, that represent our own time here on the planet. This world is merely the area of preparation meant for what lies past. It is the classroom, the courses ground, the finishing school. Even those who die the earliest are like a mist that appears for just a while, then vanishes, like a breath that is drawn in, held for the moment, then released. When compared to endless ages further than, even the longest lifetime here is the blink of the eye, the tick of a clock, the length of a dash.
Whenever Jesus was preparing to say farewell to his disciples this individual gave them the promise: “A little while, and you will see myself no longer; and once again a little while, and you will observe me. ” He or she was going away, although not permanently. He was departing, but not for good. “Just a little while, ” he assured them. That promise should have been precious to them as they waited within bewilderment following his crucifixion, as they anxiously waited in anticipation following his ascension, as they labored through persecution following the day of pentecost. “Just a while. ” Just hold on a little longer. Just endure for a limited time more. Just wait for a moment, for a tick, for a dash, and you’ll see that I’m true to my term, faithful to my every single promise.
“Just a little while. ” These are words We are clinging to every little bit as much as the disciples. I miss Chip more than I have the capability to express. I discomfort to see him, long to hug your pet, yearn to talk along with him. And I will certainly. I’m sure I am going to. Jesus has promised there is boundless joy beyond this bounded life. I don’t know how much time the Lord has allotted to me. Really dont know when the “little while” may arrive, when my turn will come to become lowered into the floor beside my boy, when my gravestone will be ordered plus carved and set up. I don’t know what time will be etched onto its surface to represent the time of my departure. Yet I do know that whether it be days from today or decades, the queue between the day of my birth and the day of my death will stand for a blip, just the briefest of occasions, when compared to the vast eternity to come. And then I’ll be permanently with my youngster, just beyond the advantage of my splash.
(Our first-time seeing the monument; I often get Nick a espresso when I visit. )