The Rocking Chair

The destiny of an individual from the cradle to the grave is somethimes refered to as "the web of life."
This is an allusion to the three Fates who, according to Greek mythology, spin the thread of life into a tapestry, the pattern being the events which are to occur. Who were the Fates?

The Fates were goddesses who had counterparts in various parts of the world. The Greek poet Homer called them Spinners. Clotho was the Spinner of the thread and the birth goddess. Lachesis measured the length of the thread or the amount of time to live which she gave to each person at birth. Atropos was the Spinner responsible for cutting the thread, which brought life to its end. In Greek mythology, the Fates would first appear on the third night following a child's birth, at which time the life span and its events would be made known to the gods. French and Roman mythology also had their life spirits, as did German and Norse mythology.

Why did some people suffer and others did not? Why did some die young and other die old? Why was their death at all? These questions, even from theancients, demanded answers. The Fates provided answers to these deep questions on life and death. These same questions are still being asked today.
The following story, based on Homer's Fates, is fictional. (Note: The "I" speaking does not refer to me, the author, nor does the mythological aspect of the story reflect my belief on death, dying, and the hereafter. The "I" speaking is the grandma).

I can't sleep. I'd like to sleep, but my head aches, and I have a strange pain in my left arm. That is not what is keeping me awake, however. It is fear. The fear of death. Or is my fear from the fact of my existing? Then, there is the fear of the ever present Spinner who crouches in the corner watching my every move. The fear of knowing that I am living a life of dying. My [grandma_rocking_in_chair_md_wht.gif]rocking chair is my only safety. A false safety from the eyes and long, boney fingers of the Spinner. My chair cradles me in its arms. With each tick of the clock, the chair squeeks, squeeks, as the minutes shrink in proportion to time in the real world.
My safety and sanctuary are in my chair - this is the only time I know. Outside, there is nothing for me. The world is busy weaving dreams. Inside, dreams no longer exist. My dreams have raveled into short threads which are scattered across the floor like cobwebs from some misty past. Memories are no longer heard, seen or felt. Where have they gone? I reach into a nebulous amoebic fog longing to touch a remnant of the past, but the ever changing mist is cold, and gray, and empty.

As I rock, I ask the Spinner how many breaths have filled this house since it first became. Her ghostly voice speaks from an empty hood, "First there were four exhaling and inhaling. Then there were three exhaling and inhaling. Next, two exhaling and inhaling. And now only one remains exhaling, inhaling. Only one, she lingers still, exhaling, inhaling. Waiting . . . longing to stop."

Once there were no yesterdays, only todays and tomorrows. Now, there are no tomorrows, only yesterdays. And what of today? Today is unknown. Yesterday's memories are buried in a shroud of gray under a dust covered rainbow of faded laughter, love, and dreams. Still the one from the beginning lingers. Exhaling. Inhaling. Waiting.

Outside the faded flowers bow their heads. The red birds and blue birds fly away. A lonely white dove perches silently on a baren tree branch, while inside is only the squeek, squeek, squeek of the old wooden rocking chair. All are gone except the one left exhaling, inhaling. In the shadows, the Spinner continues to watch and wait for my thread to cut.

The sanctuary, once warm, is nearly lifeless and cold now. Still, the shadow watches and waits. The one from the beginning exhales, and then - a single thread is cut - and falls to the floor.

Years after David wrote Psalm 23, Jesus of Nazareth said, "There are many rooms in my Father's house; I would not tell you this if it were not true. I am going to prepare a place for you. After I go and prepare a place for you, I will come back and take you to be with me so that you may be where I am" (John 14:2-3).
Jesus pledges to take us home. He does not delegate this task. He sends no one to take us when our time comes. We do not have to worry about a Spinner waiting to cut our thread of life. Because He is present when any of us die, we can say with David, "I will not be afraid" (Psalm 23:4).

When God calls us into the deep valley of death, He will be with us. He will never abandon us in the moment of death. What God said to Moses, he says to us: "I myself will go with you" (Exodus 33:14).

This is my viewpoint. What is yours?