Lately I have been thinking about what Mary and Martha did after their brother was risen from the dead. Did they watch him anxiously? Pinch themselves to make sure they weren't dreaming? Had one gone further down the road of grief than the other and thus have further to come back?
These thoughts have been swirling for they have been mine. In truth, I had been bracing myself for the worse news about my mom and instead we got the best news ever. Ever the pessimist who tries desperately to be an optimist, it took a few weeks for the startling truth to sink in. I'm also trying to enjoy this time with her, rather than watch her worriedly and waiting for the damned cancer to just come back again.
And that's the thing. Lazarus did eventually die. He just didn't die that first way, when Jesus called him out. Receiving one miracle though isn't like sucking on an eternal gobstopper. At some point, you have to let got and trust. That His timing, which sometimes seems wicked to me, is truly best.
Here is to watching with hope rather than with despair. For after all, He is a good God who gives good things to His children. All. The. Time.