She got up, having been awakened by those sounds, familiar sounds, he was up there once again, up early in the day, looking through the precious archives of their past, that pointed to their future hopes and dreams.
She stirred her coffee, and put her fluffy slippers on, and settled into her chair to do the morning crossword,
Creeking of the attic floor… rustling and rummaging… filled her listening heart…and she put down her pen, because he was softly sighing… sobbing, and she quietly crept to the base of that attic stair, and whispered the question to assure rather than to pry, “Hey, are you ok up there?”
He whispered back between his tears, “yeah, it’s just he saw us here from way back then… it’s like he knew, we’d be peering in and I caught a glint in his eye just now that seemed to say…
‘I see you there, looking at us back here… you belong… you see the preparing of the way… for you and your children, and all those who have ears to hear.’”
She smiled, and shuffled back to her chair, and felt the warmth of God’s presence fill her heart, too.
“These were all commended for their faith, yet none of them received what had been promised. God had planned something better for us so that only together with us would they be made perfect.”
Running Down Vimy 