All I Saw Were Shadows

    They should have been clear. I should have seen people, immortal spirits housed by incredibly varied physical forms. I should have been able to read the stress, laughter, concentration, and apathy in the motions of those walking through the hallway of the corporate headquarters. I should have seen a glimpse of other lives, other stories, other struggles and victories so clearly written in each person's demeanor.
    More, I should have been able to form expectations for the future, for I should have been able to see which form was the person I was waiting impatiently for.
    But all I saw were shadows.
   The shades had been drawn, though the dim light in the small atrium I was in meant I could see the shadows of each person that passed, and dimly, though the closed door, hear the tones of voice when they were raised in excitement. Again and again a tall, darker shape would pass over the grey blinds, walking quickly, varying only in height. They were indistinguishable from one another, only shadows of what actually were.
    "For now we see in a mirror dimly, but then face to face. Now I know in part; then I shall know fully, even as I have been fully known" (I Cor. 13.12).
   God, give me grace to see more than shadows.