(Originally written on Oct. 1, 2010)
Oct.1, seven days until my mother’s birthday, eight months since she passed away. Six months since I moved to this city, fourteen days since he heard the word “remission.” Two days and the verdict will be handed down, next Friday the deal will be closed. Three years since the summer melt of the Arctic Sea was recorded as the greatest in history, and forever since we weren’t at war.
What if this very world should stop? This world, marked by days and years, by tide and moon and the rising of the sun, and the pages in a planner. What if this very world should stop and we are transported to that plane that has been the fascination of holy and not so holy people throughout the ages? Would time be swallowed up and with it caskets, and letting go, and radiation, and guilt, and what seems to us like the withering of Mother Earth? And will then the swords be beaten into ploughshares*? Will time melt like the ice caps and sweep us into the ocean of shalom**? I think so.
- Charme Robarts
*Swords into ploughshares is a reference to Isaiah 2:4
**The Hebrew meaning of shalom carries with it the idea of wholeness, completeness, things being as they were designed to be.
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