While results of the recent spinal tap indicate I do not have MS on top of mitochondrial disease, the exam intensified normal eye pain . But I've now been referred to neuro-ophthamology at Emory in hopes of learning more about how to handle double vision caused by myopathy (muscle weakness).
Questions stirred: How will I manage this? Will it get better? How will I write and teach with tired eyes?
As I exited the building, I noticed a second floor walkway that crossed over the open lobby next to a wall of windows. Craving a view from above, I ignored the elevator and stepped into blazing sunlight. The short walk calmed anxious thoughts for a time. But by the time I laid down at home on my Cassie Quilt, harsh realities lingered.
I read a book. Cried on the phone with my sister. Taught some lessons. Put on my PJ's. And opened FB.
And there I saw these photos:
My oldest son is on tour with the Hodgson Singers in Austria. As you can see, he visited a very high place just outside of Salzburg, Austria this week. A small group took a bus ride and then a ski lift to where the air grew thin and worries became small.
And years ago, while that very son napped with his brother on a hot July afternoon, I laid on their bedroom floor, half praying, half resting. And in that in between place, experienced a glimpse of heaven. Just a mere glimpse.
Children played. Abandoned, abused, children played. A choir worshiped at the throne under a tall cathedral like pavilion. People came and went but the music never stopped.
Having lived as a "what if" child whose fears were fueled by stories of abuse and neglect in the pages of Reader's Digest, I was struck most by the sense of joy and complete love that separated the divine destination from earth. Darkness truly covered the earth while light lit every corner of God's home. For the first time, I truly understood there is a place where tears do not fall; where sorrows have been turned to dancing; and where pain is no more.
That place is beyond our understanding. High above our ability to comprehend. But I got a glimpse that day. And soon crept from the room with sleeping toddlers and shared the vision with my ailing spouse who was only months away from his death to life transit.
From the high place, suffering is fleeting. Time on earth a mere opportunity to embrace the love God sent in the form of His Son so that the door to everlasting life will open when we have breathed our last.
I get that most when I dwell in the high place - whether in person, in personal worship, or through simple pics on FB.
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