An Anatomy of the World

love and death

Welcome to my newest readers, fellow bibliophiles, and educators!

I’m not sure what a normal post is for me, but if you’re new here, today’s thoughts do stand as a contrast to what I’ve written over the past year.

It took one verse, one verse at Tuesday’s music chapel last week.

Before the throne of God above
I have a strong and perfect plea,
a great High Priest whose name is "Love,"
who ever lives and pleads for me.
My name is graven on His hands;
my name is written on His heart;
I know that while in heav'n He stands,
no tongue can bid me thence depart;
no tongue can bid me thence depart.

I was a mess in minutes and couldn’t sing another word. The reality of heaven was in me, in my breath, as I tried to mouth the poetic words of Irish hymn writer, Charitie Lees Bancroft. It was one moment of many now, a moment where my everyday reality meshes with an eternal one.

The Voyage of Life: Youth, Thomas Cole, 1842

John’s mother, my friend Sid, passed away three days before. Yes, she was 95, and her physical strength had been in decline, but I was still shocked by the moment, this permanent declaration of death.

And it has felt permanent, at least earthside. My husband remarked that there is no more last lunch, no more last moment by her bedside, no last kiss on her brow. The last is gone. That is the permanence I feel.

John Donne writes of this very thing, the physical, earthly death—

Death, be not proud, though some have called thee

Mighty and dreadful, for thou art not so;

For those whom thou think'st thou dost overthrow

Die not, poor Death, nor yet canst thou kill me.

. . . One short sleep past, we wake eternally

And death shall be no more; Death, thou shalt die.

Death shall die. My high school students might call this circular reasoning. Some might call it a poor pun. But Donne knew which death he described. In “An Anatomy of the World,” he writes of the “frailty and decay of this world”—

The twilight of her memory doth stay,

Which, from the carcass of the old world free,

Creates a new world, and new creatures be

Produc'd. . .

The Voyage of Life: Old Age, 1842

My relationship with Sid didn’t die. It’s still a part of me. My love for her didn’t die either, but I am walking through my days differently. Is it the touch of the eternal, the nearness of death? Is it missing Sid? What is it to be free from the carcass of the old world, when the longing for heaven is no longer a longing, but real? How amazing it must be for her to be with Jesus, really be.

I’ll return to my regular newsletter soon. Until then, do comment or feel free to email me. Simply reply to this email. And don't forget that the List Library at my website is always available to you, my readers.

In God’s amazing grace,

Christine