Late, I know, but sometimes things are just too fresh to write about on demand. Here is what I was hoping I could get out yesterday.
Grey skies surrounded our little gathering. Some were missing, yet even though they were half a globe away, they still seemed present. There were thirteen of us. Three daughters. Two sons-in-law. Three grandsons. Two friends. A chaplain. An undertaker. And me.
The wind whipped through the blue tent. I tugged my sweater tighter around me. Although I willed them anywhere else, my eyes locked on the casket scaffolded above a hole in the ground. The warm walnut hardwood stood in sharp contrast with the cold silver latches; much like her warm life stood in stark contrast to the chilled day.
I closed my eyes and felt sweet breath across my cheeks. The Lord was near.
Mildred Bates, my husband’s maternal grandmother, lived a lifetime of good-will and kindness. Her gentle heart touched all that crossed her path. She was intentional about building relationships; especially her relationship with Christ. As we honored her life with a final ceremony, our hearts were filled with celebration and cheer.
I opened my eyes and they met my husband’s. He smiled and I knew her legacy would live on.
Unhurried. Finding the magic in the middle of living. Capturing a life of ridiculous grace + raw stories.