The Rear End of Life

The Rear End of Life

By Elisa Morgan

Many of us see life from the bottom up. To be honest, the view is less than inspiring.

A baby dies before it breathes. We wail. A job is chopped. We bleed. A marriage falls and breaks. We shatter. A child walks away from faith. We stand and stare and slide down to the ground.

Our gaze slips to the bottom of all things.

I know this view well. The dimpled, cellulite-pocked assessment of the derriere of life.

This has been a long season of such a perspective. Anticipating my brother’s liver transplant – which actually arrived after a four-plus year wait – and then the 24/7 caregiving and recovery. The responsibility to steward the leadership transition of a major graduate school – and the provision of its next God-called president. A jagged family tragedy that tore away a valued member forever – and the aftermath of grief.

Sigh. I find myself looking at life from the bottom. The underneath. From the rear end of life.

Once when I was touring a mountain-top shrine, I noticed that I was staring at the rear of a towering statue that overlooks the city. My view wasn’t intentional. It’s just that the path approached from the back side. I took in the tendrilled hair, the outstretched arms and hidden beneath the neat folds of a robe, what must surely be a posterior. It could be anyone. From where I stood staring at the back, I had no idea of the identity.

There are many moments when I don’t care about this perspective. The back is the back is the back. I’m used to the back and the bottom. It’s become all too familiar. Dragging myself around to the side much less the front is more than I can imagine much less accomplish. I sponge in the view from here.

In other moments, I set one foot before the other, continuing along the path to view other facets, and eventually, the front. Then I see. The rear transforms to more. Fuller angles. A whole perspective. Deeper understanding. Meaning.

I realize I can fasten my gaze on the rear end of life … or I can make my way around the elements in my experience to absorb the identity of the statues they form. I might see George Washington or Martin Luther King Jr. I might see a Madonna. I might see an angel. I might – as I did in this marbled encounter on a mountain – see Jesus.

It’s worth the walk around.

Elisa Morgan's latest book is Fruitful Living. She is the cohost of the podcast, God Hears Her. She is also the cohost of Discover the Word and contributor to Our Daily Bread. Her other books include Christmas Changes Everything, You are Not Alone, When We Pray Like Jesus, Hello, Beauty Full, and The Beauty of Broken. Connect with Elisa @elisamorganauthor on Facebook and Instagram.