An Evening in Eden

Photo credit: Stephanie Nunley Photography

The evening was drawing to a close.

Bella sat in my lap, snuggly jammies, eyes half-mast, hand wrapped tight round my thumb, contentedly slurping her last meal of the day.

Eliana danced across the room, singing an ode to the last bit of her candy cane at the top of her lungs, old but shiny Happy New Year hat precociously perched on her head or dramatically flung to the side, periodically checking her poses in the reflection of the back door. Jeff and I caught each others eyes from across the room, laughter dancing.

And my heart swells at this momentary taste of Eden.

It’s so good, but unlike Eve, I know it’s good because I know what it could have been.

I sit with Hannah, a heart swollen with worship for a God who sees, who hears, who answers prayers. God’s answer wrapped up in the soft, warm skin, the welcome weight of a baby in the arms.

And it is all that much sweeter because of dark nights and tears shed and months of waiting and not knowing. The pain and uncertainty and the longing only set the stage, created the platform, fixed the lights to make grace that much more beautiful.

As it is in the small, so it is in the large. I sit knowing the aches and the groans that echo round the globe. I see burdens carried that pale mine to near nothing, and grief and prayers as yet unanswered.

And my heart aches and I wonder, if my arms were empty tonight, would my eyes still see the grace?

Perhaps not so poignantly today. Today I might have found it hard as tears blurred the eyes and skewed the vision.

But I strongly believe, I plant my hope in the fact, that the Great Author is setting the stage. Building a platform. Fixing the lights. Placing every tear and ache and sorrow in His tapestry in a way that one day will make grace…will make the Grace Giver…so. much. more. beautiful. Because we will know what it could have been. We will know what it is like to walk in darkness. And as that glorious day grows into days upon days upon days, I have my suspicions that the long nights, and the valley of the shadows, and the aches of this life will shrink smaller and smaller until they are rightly just the brief inhale that precedes the long chorus of praise.

But until then. Until then I will rejoice in glimpses of Eden, and give thanks for the groans that lead to a longing for so much more.

We do not lose heart. Though outwardly we are wasting away, yet inwardly we are being renewed day by day. For our light and momentary troubles are achieving for us an eternal glory that far outweighs them all. So we fix our eyes not on what is seen, but on what is unseen, since what is seen is temporary, but what is unseen is eternal.
2 Corinthians 4:16-18