I sat at the piano playing aimless, eyes drifting around the room looking at the writing on the walls…a small representation of a bigger picture. Emotions come, tears come, laughter inevitably bubbles. The assortment of voices singing their own melody, the memories making my music major or minor.
Love from those who have already passed, their bold handwriting striking deep into my heart, images of their beautiful faces flash before my eyes.
Others make me smile at their little inscriptions, memories of good times rise.
Some I have to dig deep to even remember who they are, brief moments in time when they walked into our guest book walls.
Then there are the dark ones…the mother that left her family…her blessing on us almost mocking now, as my heart rends for her lovely children staying true. Those who have scorned us, yet their marks still last. Broken friendships that once were strong. Young people signatures, now adult prodigals.
The bright and beautiful children scribbles.
Encouragement to keep pressing on, joyous voices of thanksgiving, poems, hidden meanings, love. Different languages, different voices, different backgrounds. Relations, strangers, brethren in Christ. Music in common, nothing in common. So many different strokes.
These are the walls of our guest book. Much like the walls of our hearts. Much like the marks we each have in the big picture. Imagine God’s view of each of us, as we leave our signatures. As He knows each one, what each will become…
Imagine what the Book of Life looks like.