By Ashlie Miller Nothing enhances gentle breezes like a set of wind chimes on the porch. Usually, they are a lovely sound, but one day recently, they proved to be a tangled mass of brokenness needing gentle hands. Mom died three years ago this past Friday, and grief is ever-present, seeking to appear at the most unsuspecting times.
My brother told me a story of processing grief while listening to wind chimes — some given to him as a memorial to our mother. He lives in the N.C.
mountains, and breezes are a refreshing part of the day. However, one evening, the wind must have been more aggressive, taking the cords and chimes and whipping them together in a tangled mess. The sight was unseemly, and the sound was broken and disheveled.
Patiently, my brother unwound the cords, untwisting the metal wrapped haphazardly together, prompting tears to come to his eyes. He felt God speaking to him through the moment, reminding him that He had done the same thing for our mother. She had lived firmly and faithfully through her cancer journey the last few years.
But even with a smile, she was still wrecked and ruined — her melody limited in her time here on earth. God relieved her earthly sufferings. Not only is she now free from the encumberments of a broken and fallen earth, filled with sin, sickness and disease, but she is also free of the things we may think we brought upon her.
I imagine many children, perhaps many loved ones, have certain regrets when a loved one passes. There may .