The Tulip Driven Life

This is a fictional piece that I wrote up. Hopefully it demonstrates the comfort we can have if our parents are believers. Next time I want to write up a piece on a more challenging issue- finding comfort in the death of a parent who isn't a believer. But for now, this. I took one last look at the old man. His beleaguered body lie flat on his bed, propped up slightly by the pillow he always used. He stared vacantly at whatever was in his line of sight from the angle his head was positioned. The white sheet covering his body up to his chest gave the impression he was already dead. But dead he was not- the slight heaving of his belly made the sheet rise and drop with his shallow breaths.                 I stood there, eyes red and heavy, at this point due to exhaustion and not tears. I had long accepted the fact he was dying; now I just wished he would hurry up and go. Everything that needed to be said...

I have experienced disappointment and letdown time and time again. To have a dream crushed, a promise broken, or trust violated leaves one in pieces, wary and without confidence. And the more this happens, the harder it is to hope in anything good again, to hope that our plans will actually come to fruition. This is often how it has been for me. And in this sin-shattered world I know this is how, to one degree or another, it is for everyone. I've often thought about how living in the 21st century in the most prosperous nation ever has spoiled me. No doubt it has, but I also think people living 100 years from now, or 1,000 years from now, who will be far better off than I am, will still experience disappointment and letdown, will still experience that unnerving feeling in the pit of their stomach that resonates throughout their bodies whenever they think about the next great longing that is finally visible just over the horizon, approaching at long last, yet nonetheless looms ...