Wrinkled cheeks. Watery eyes. Shaking hands, bony and no longer smooth, worn with time and age. She’s called grandma. And she’s gone. Or is she?
She’s had a mentally debilitating disease for years. She can’t remember her children. Her husband is but a memory. She lives every day the same, and yet every day is new to her. A new book to read, new people to meet, new activities. And she’s not gone. Right?
Inside her shell, there is a soul. Alive. Present. Crying out to be known. Just as there is in the sleeping babe, the hungry native, the homeless woman. A soul, striving for the knowledge of God. A soul longing to be known.
And every once in a long while, for only a moment, that soul shines through the deceptive shell. One must simply watch enough to see it. Because, she’s not empty. She’s lived life to the fullest, loving, serving, praying.
So watch. Because she’s not empty. Because she’s full.