His Mountain Song

My family and I are hiking along a mountain trail.  They are excited and happy, but I struggle with dark feelings of failure over my son's decision to live apart from God.  The sun shines, the trees seem to clap their hands and the meadow grasses bend to sing their song.  But I cling to depression.

We set up camp, then climb a ridge to discover what is on the other side.  the trail is backbreaking  We are tired and thirsty, but still we climb upwards and discover a lake of shining waters hidden in the folds of the tree clad mountains.

We drink deeply, catch frogs and admire dragon flies.  But it seems my Lord is trying to tell me something.  I cannot quite make out what it is. 

I leave my family and cross to the other side of the lake.  I walk along the lake's edge, where I meet a mother ewe and her lamb slaking their thirst in the cold glacial waters.  

Suddenly my  Shepherd is there.  His eyes shine with love.  He sees my bitter self-inflicted wounds, my sadness and hurt.  With gentle hands, He tenderly touches my pain and I begin to learn His beautiful mountain song.

--His Mountain Song, copyright ©1981 by Eva J. Gibson

Would you like to read more?  This is an excerpt from a manuscript written long ago.  I am considering re-writing it as an allegory to submit to a publisher.  What do you think?

Heaven Bound

These are the words I read to my beloved husband, just before he flew away to heaven.  It is a paraphrase from the Song of Solomon.  Here I sense the beauty of God's immense Love for us, I feel the Lord's great joy as He leaps and runs to meet Bud, to hug him and to lead him into heaven. 

Our Lord comes

Look! here He comes, 
leaping across the mountains, bounding over the hills.

Our Lord speaks to us.

He is like a gazelle or a young stag!

Look! He stands behind our wall gazing through the windows,

Peering through the glass.

Our Lord speaks  to you:

"Arise my darling son, my precious boy and come with me

"See! Your winter is past; 
the rains are over and gone.

"Flowers appear on the earth; 
the seasons of singing has come.

"The cooing of doves is heard in the land whence I come.

"The fig trees forms its early fruit; 
the blossoming vines spread their fragrance.

"Arise, come, my darling son, my beautiful one.

"Come with me!" 

~ A Paraphrase by Eva J. Gibson 

To see Bud's Memory Book, please visit Peake Funeral Chapel.