It is nearing mid-July and already the lush green of summer is beginning to die off. I am a little bored with watering plants on the porch, knowing that at some point they will take up residence elsewhere.

I, too, am a seasonal being and am in the winter of my life. It is a life which has been destroyed twice and left to grow back again. I assure you that mortality is a fact; at least as much as immortality is.

Vicki is mortal; “I am” is not. Jesus was mortal; Christ is not. It does not matter if you are a religious person or not. Your mortality is a statistic in hospitals and insurance companies; immortality is not.

Immortality is good for you, so you can drink your fill of silence. I say silence because out of silence arises peace and out of peace arises a drowning in grace.

I listen to Leonard Cohen nightly; his voice speaks in my heart and reverberates in every cell. He knew what the bottom line was and made sure he underscored it with darkness. Without darkness, there is no light. That is ironic but true.

There was a little girl that saw her body begin to fall away and had the grace to become silent. Her parents watched her mount the cross of cancer and waited for her resurrection. The good news is that she never died. Lest you think I am a fundamental Christian, I assure you that I am not.

I have spent my life pondering the “why’s” and watched them fall beyond the grasp of the heart. The heart knows its own. That is all you need to know.

Vicki Woodyard