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Not Unto The Ages of Ages, I Hope

Not Unto The Ages of Ages, I Hope

Last updated on: July 11, 2016 at 8:33 pm by Mary Pezzulo

Not Unto The Ages of Ages, I Hope 2016-07-11T20:33:42-04:00 Mary Pezzulo

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I really do love our funny old house. It reminds me of a farmhouse, with high ceilings and a big dank cellar. It’s on the biggest lot on the block, so we can stretch our little food budget by vegetable gardening. And the rent is cheap. You couldn’t get a studio apartment in a decent city for what we pay for a veritable farmhouse. There are front and back porches, nice big old windows, a spacious bathroom that usually works and a kitchen that’s big as the Forty Thieves’ cave compared to our old apartment, where I bumped into the fridge if I tried to open the oven all the way. But of course, we have to prop the windows open with chair legs and there are no screens so the flies and stray cats get in. And then there’s the deluge in the kitchen, and the occasional electric fireworks display.

Michael told me that, when I pray to our guardian angels, I should remember to ask them to keep the house standing up. He asked me to remember the pipes and the wiring by name every day, now and ever “But not unto the ages of ages, Amen.” Because we hope to keep the house standing up as long as we live here, but we don’t hope to live here unto the ages of ages.

It’ll be a shame to move, because I like this place, but we won’t be here forever. That’s good, because this place has way too much character. We won’t even be on earth forever. And I guess in some ways that’s a shame, because I love the earth, but on the other hand, the earth has quite a bit of character too. My garden is a miracle, food from the earth for just a little work– except for the weeds and the slugs. My rose bush, the one that I found growing wild in the back when we rented the house, is beautiful, but the thorns hurt when I weed around it. I love bees, but not when they try to nest in the front porch. Waterfalls are lovely until one’s coming through your drop ceiling and you have to call a plumber.

The ground is a wondrous thing, until it quakes or a sink hole opens up. The sky is beautiful, but it’s no fun wandering out under the sky. Rivers are gorgeous, but swim in one and you might drown; drink from it and you might die. Mountains are glorious, but climb one and you might fall. Life is beautiful, more beautiful than I can ever tell, but it kills you. It hurts and then it kills you.

Blessed is the Kingdom of the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit, now and ever and forever. Blessed is the kingdom that is to come, unto the ages of ages. There, we will not die. There we can have beauty and character without suffering, somehow. I don’t understand how it will work. But I know that, if I can see so much beauty in a little crooked house and a big fallen world, I shall see more beauty when all earthly dwellings have passed away. Here, our Father teaches us virtue through suffering, not because He likes suffering but because suffering is the only resource every one of us possess in abundance. There, we shall see virtue clearly with no need for hard lessons. Here, we value thorn bushes because they bear roses. After we endure a little more, we will see the Rose that sprung from Jesse’s stem, Who chose to bear the thorns Himself so that all thorns might someday pass away. The air will be sweet without propping windows. The water will flow clean without plumbing, and the lights will be bright without breakers or fuses. Which is good, because I never understood plumbing, breakers or fuses.

I don’t understand the world that is to come, either. But when I hear it mentioned, I smile and try to look appreciative, because I know that it will be much better there, better than mortal tongue can tell.

May the angels keep your house standing up, for as long as you live there. May your wiring be the kind you don’t have to think about. May your ceiling tiles stay dry. May whatever suffering you bear, bring you to virtue. Now and for many blessed years, but not unto the ages of ages.

(image via pixabay)

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