10/21/2015
The “fever” was the simple diagnosis given by those around and though I could faintly hear their conversations, I was incapable of response in any form whether it be vocal and or with movement. I was tired, actually a bit incensed, by the throng of people tending to my every need yet I could discern from their faces the seriousness of the illness that now consumed my being. My internal body temperature, extremely high, manifested itself with the profusion of sweat, clothes drenched with such and an ever present cotton mouth that bore great ferocity.
Once again, lying on my back, something felt different today. The heat that I had experienced just a few days earlier now seemed much more intense as an illumination of light, restrictive in its scope, broke through the darkness that had been holding me as of late. Gone was the scurry of those around my bed and it was beyond quiet; too quiet. It was eerie and I could not help but wonder where the army of caregivers had gone? The constant state of thirst had not disappeared and I tried to moisten my lips with any saliva that could be garnered; unfortunately, moisture was nonexistent.
Opening my eyes, a bit more, I realized that there was something actually covering my eyelids and keeping them from opening up all the way. As I tried to lift my right hand, I noticed it too was bound, as was my left one next to their appropriate sides. Still lying, I noticed, in my state of confusion, that the air was filled with dust particles of dirt as a small breeze wisped, periodically, in an around my body.
Coming to my senses, now with them all working in conjunction with one another, I realized I was entirely encompassed by a thin layer of fabric, lightly holding me with its weight. Finally, it dawned on me. I had been prepared for burial and they had, in fact, without their knowledge, buried me alive. How could they make such a mistake…?
…I struggled to free my hand as I moved it to and fro, and then, once free, was able to rid myself of the thin layer of burial clothing so carefully wrapped around me. The illumination, now beyond bright caused me to squint as I looked up and into the sky; so clear, so vividly white were the clouds as they lighted across the bluest of blue skies.
I sat up and began to work my way out of my entombment, carefully removing small bits of rock and rubble that had collected on my lower extremities. The slab of rock, with its volume, once an easy enclosure for my eternal resting place, now revealed a crack right down the middle. Though I had little strength, the sky, the breeze, and of course the light, energized me to slide one half of the rock to the side. With my last bit of energy, a final push forced the slab to yield and I found myself climbing out of my tomb and into the living once again.
To my surprise as I gathered my thoughts, I saw a young woman, just a few feet away, climbing out of the same, while I heard others, in the distance, faintly crying for help. So many slabs of stone, reduced to rubble and I was now confused as to the events unfolding before my very eyes. Another emerged, and then another and as I slowly walked in and around the rubble I saw a hand surface between the slabs of a massive stone, and it looked beyond frail. Another gentlemen, in our mutual state of confusion, also with remnants of burial clothing still attached, assisted me as we struggled to free the being, now begging for our help, that lay so close to freedom. Finally, we were able to pry the slab apart just enough for the delicate older woman to slide through as we pulled her weak body to the surface. We sat, we three, gasping for air.
Thirst would drive us to stand once again as we carefully assisted the elderly woman up and out of the cemetery as we passed, in and around, tomb after tomb empty of their inhabitants. On the outskirts of the city, nearing still, we began to hear, as people scurried within the city walls, of the dead, some still partially wrapped in their graveclothes, wandering the streets in confusion.
The young child, crying quietly, as if fearful to be heard, caught my attention as he cowered in the door opening of small abandoned home. Tears streamed down his face and discolored the dust that fastened itself to him; he too had escaped his tomb. How, I am not sure but the tattered linens gave away his former state and he obviously was not only afraid, but alone. I reached down, picked up the young boy and wiped the tears from his face and calmed him as best that I could. I too was a father and could not bear the grief and the uncertainty that overtook his poor countenance.
I asked the gentleman, not knowing his name, if he could take care of the elderly woman why I assisted the young boy and we soon parted ways. Progressing deeper into the city, we were met, with great care, as multitudes of people offered us water and bits of bread. The little boy and I paused for a brief moment and sat down, up and against the temple wall, partaking of the life giving sustenance. Never had bread and water tasted so good though we were both struggling to keep it all down.
Both exhausted, we sat for a while longer. The little boy, now calm on my lap, with one arm around my lower back, held fast with great strength for a child of his size. As I listened intently, to those around, I heard of the mass resurrection and greater still, the reunion of families, as they would unite once again.
Thoughts of my family, my wife and my four children and our forthcoming reunion brought a tear to my eye and it soon would find its way down my discolored cheek as well. His little hand surprised me, as he carefully reached up and now wiped the tear from my face. We looked deep into each others eyes and I brought him near to me and hugged him with a compassion that had been previously absent in my life. His little arms encircled my neck and I felt peace in the midst of confusion.
We sat, embracing each other, for how long I am not sure, when out of nowhere a young mother, crying quietly, reached down and touched the back of the young boy and carefully whispered, Timothy? The young boy, slowly turned his head, still holding my neck tightly in our embrace. His grip lessened and the fear now turned to joy and a smile emerged that I shall never forget. He let go of my neck and reached both hands out to the now crying, uncontrollably, mother as she reached down for her young son and pulled him closely and into her own bosom. She fell beside me, with Timothy in hand, and simply hugged and kissed the young boy without limits. I too, began to cry, witnessing a love and a joy that I had never in my life seen.
As we stood, the young mother now, with Timothy in one arm, reached up with her free arm, embraced me for a moment and simply kissed my cheek. She turned and quickly disappeared into the mass of humanity bustling here and there. I too, with thoughts of reunion, would as well step lively towards my home not far away…
I tapped lightly upon the dusty door, now with one hinge missing, off balance and in need of repair. An anticipation, not previously encountered, weighed heavy as I heard the voice of my wife tell the children to see who was at the door. My youngest daughter, now older than I remembered, pulled the door slowly and peeked out between the small crack she had created. She stood motionless, staring at me as if she had seen a ghost. Quickly she turned, slammed the door and I could hear her run back into the house screaming “it is father, it is father.”
I stood, not knowing what to do next when the door began once again to open slowly. This time I saw, in the same small crack the love of my life, my bride, now aged with burden, with the children clinging, ever so close to her dress. I reached in and gently grabbed her hand and proceeded to open the door to its fullness. We stood, again motionless, looking at one another deeply and I simply pulled her close and embraced her with a love that was not of me. The children, now crying, held on to our legs, partaking of the love that flowed with an abundance. I was home. I was with my family. My thought was simple…I was not the same man of old, but was new…I had been given “a second chance.”
Daniel
Matthew 27, towards the end of the chapter, speaks of the last moments of Christ on the cross and some of the cataclysmic “happenings” that unfolded as he breathed his last breath. Verses 50-53 “Jesus, when he cried again with a loud voice, yielded up the ghost. And, behold, the veil of the temple was rent in twain from the top to the bottom; and the earth did quake, and the rocks rent; and the graves were opened; and many of the saints which slept arose, and came out of the graves after his resurrection, and went into the holy city, and appeared unto many.”