The Crack That Lets The Light In

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“He cracks open the door and lures us to come and stand in the light of our Home.”

LightI stand in the symphony of the beach while wind whips loose hair and wild waves pound settled sand. One son pushes his plastic dump truck, making new tracks in the sand, and the other runs down the beach, bent on reaching the fishing pier in the far distance. My husband’s pants are rolled above his ankles and he grazes the surf, jabbing left, barely missing its bubbly waters.

And I smell it, the scent of a garden, the aroma of Eden. I feel it, the shaking of earth, the trembling of ground as heaven storms down. Here, I am tucked into the thin place, the sacred intersection of heaven and earth. Here, I am standing where the door Home is cracked and light pours in, as joy slips through the sliver of its opening. In the light of heaven and in the joy of Home, the tides of eternity sweep fear and wound into its timeless waters where they float forever away.

I have often described deep grief as an intense feeling of homesickness and a desperate sense of being lost. It is through the world, tiptoeing through the shards of the foundation on which you used to firmly stand. It is searching for a place of comfort, a space for reprieve as you hunt for a way to reverse the irreversible, while dodging the broken glass of the life you once knew. Walking through grief feels a lot like one long, wandering and blind search for home.

But in the search, in the lost wandering, heaven slips in and out with just enough grace to lift the head, to squint the eyes, to call us to look and see. Mystery penetrates the mundane and holiness tames the longing. Though aching with loss, while sorrow tears through fragility, He shows us heaven. With a whisper and a nudge, He pulls back the roof and the walls tumble down. He cracks open the door and lures us to come and stand in the light of our Home.

Oh, I know that no eye has seen and no ear has heard what He has prepared for those who love Him. But let us with eyes and us with ears, us with homesick hearts and wandering spirits, continue to find the thin place, the light of a cracked door. Where we know that though we are planted on earth, we are rooted in heaven, and all headed Home.

My husband, pants now soaked from the surf and face now red from the wind, grabs the son who runs and throws him over his shoulder. Together they turn to face me and begin charging my way, howling with laughter. Though my smile is quiet, my spirit is belting praise. And the ground is shaking and the garden is growing wild. Hallelujahs rush right through me while I stand for a moment on shards of glass put perfectly back together without the slightest crack.

Heaven’s door is open wide and I catch a glimpse of the light of Home forever.

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Settle Monroe
I am grounded to the earth in a beautiful life with two sons. I am rooted in heaven with the promise of life eternal with another son who leapt into his Father’s arms in October of 2011. I write about the joy and pain of living heart-broken but heart-swollen in the valley of love and loss at my blog, As I Walk.
Settle Monroe

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Settle Monroe
  • This is beautifully written. Thank you so much for sharing.

    • Settle Monroe

      Saskia, thank you for your kind words.

  • Love it!!! Thank you, Settle!

    • Settle Monroe

      Thank you for reading and sharing Miriam.

  • Adina

    Beautiful! Thank you

    • Settle Monroe

      Thank you for the encouragement Adina.

  • Settle, you write from such a deep, beautiful place … Thank you for bringing your rich inner life and intimate relationship with God to expression, so we can share in it and soak with you. Your words are nourishing, beautiful.

    • Settle Monroe

      Idelette, thank you.

  • cjdeboer

    Beautiful, Settle – your words convey such a rich expression of pain, joy and faith all in the same breath. xo

    • settle monroe

      Thank you. It is incredible how often we feel all of it; pain, joy and faith all in the same breath.

  • Speechless, Settle.

    I’m still catching my breath after reading that. I think I need to read it two or three more times to soak up the full goodness in your words. Maybe I’ll even read it out loud once.

    You’ve done an amazing job of shining a light on the indescribable sensation of grief. It *is* searching for home. Wow. I’ve never made that connection before.

    Love this:

    – “In the light of heaven and in the joy of Home, the tides of eternity sweep fear and wound into its timeless waters where they float forever away.”

    – “But in the search, in the lost wandering, heaven slips in and out with just enough grace to lift the head, to squint the eyes, to call us to look and see.”

    – “we are planted on earth, we are rooted in heaven, and all headed Home.”

    – “Hallelujahs rush right through me”

    Actually scratch that, I mean this whole paragraph:

    – “Though my smile is quiet, my spirit is belting praise. And the ground is shaking and the garden is growing wild. Hallelujahs rush right through me while I stand for a moment on shards of glass put perfectly back together without the slightest crack.”

    What.a.picture.

    I’m breathless.

    Thank you!!!

    xoxo,
    Teen

    • Settle Monroe

      Wow, thank you Tina. Just thank you.

  • abby

    What a delicious description of heaven on earth! Isn’t God good to share a bit of Heaven with us now?

    • settle monroe

      yes He is. thank you, abby.

  • Elodie Ransley

    Beautifully written. It makes me think; For such a rich slice, perhaps a sliver is enough. 🙂

    • settle monroe

      elodie, i love this (and your name). yes, perhaps a sliver is enough.

  • Amy Bailey

    I love reading about your “GOD KISSES.” I find myself reallyy appreciating those moments in life…those precious moments to just smile. Thank you!!

  • Settle, I have meant to comment on this for a couple days now. This piece is completely stunning. I am blown away by your words. Having just experienced a major loss myself, I relate to catching glimpses of light. Much love . .

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  • tategarrison

    settle, your words capture years of emotions i wish i could explain. thank you for being the voice of an angel.

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  • Rebecca

    Settle, your words are power and beauty. This post struck me when I first read it, and again as I re-read it, and my heart still resonates with your words as I come back to this post today. My dad died over 12 years ago, but he would have turned 63 today, so I’m making space to recall the thin places I have known in my own journey. Thank you for bravely sharing your story with such grace and vulnerability.

    “Where we know that though we are planted on earth, we are rooted in heaven, and all headed Home.”