Currently at the Table: Tethered

Currently at the Table: Tethered


(To differentiate from the daily writings, Glimpses of Life, when something is shared outside the year-long reflection, it will be titled, “Currently at the Table”.)

I enter the bathtub, and quickly fall asleep.

It is mid-morning.

My arms suspend in mid-air, as if my hands try to grasp something, fully aware of what, or who, it is while asleep. But I awaken, and my arms free-fall into the water, no longer held up by an invisible cord.  And whatever I knew, I instantly forget.

I see Bill’s arms again in my memory, and remember. He did this often before his death. I’d watch, as his arms float up, rise high, and reach for something.


These happenings increased in frequency as his earthly body drew near the end on the calendar.

Early on in his cancer awareness, he shared a dream he had, when he saw dead people– those he loved who were literally no longer alive. Perplexed he was by the vivid scene he experienced in his sleep.

I wonder, why am I reaching now?

Am I close to going under the water?  The worry of many when they discover I often slumber in warm water. I assure them this is not the case. I position my feet in such a way to make sure they are locked in place, keeping me solidly in a stable, above the water, position.

I look left, and see the pic of us standing by the water. His arm holding me close. Secure. Near.

I am reminded of one of his final lucid conversations, as if he needed my blessing to leave.

“Is it bad that I want it over soon?”  He asks.

“No Honey, you know where you are going, right?” I ask.


“What do you see?”

“I see hope.”  He grins slightly at his response.


He saw hope in his pain.

Hope that was just beyond the curtain of reality.

Is it what Stephen saw, when pummeled to his death by stones–when he looked up as Heaven opened, and locked eyes with his God?

Is it what Joseph felt when his dreams were buried for years at the hands of his brothers, yet God was so near he could almost feel His Presence?

I know that in his darkest hour, Bill saw hope.

In Stephen’s murderous end, he saw Heaven’s entrance.

In a lonely prison cell, Joseph felt the presence of God, in the absence of all evidence.

Hope–not tethered to an earthly outcome, but a promise of something, and Someone, more.



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