It is late.
I have been falling in and out of sleep for hours. Not like the gentle rolling hills of the countryside but like the crashing, choppy ocean waves before a storm.
The phone rings again all too loudly and my stomach tightens.
I hear the man next to me sigh and let the phone ring one more time before answering. It is too dark to see his face.
That is all I can make out of the hushed conversation. But I know. Quiet tears roll slowly down my face. Emotions flood my heart as we wait for morning light.
He is gone. His job was done and the Maker called him home.
The next few days are a tornado of extended family, church services, emotionally draining decisions, laughter, sick children, tears, well-wishing friends, cards, flowers, baked ham and brownies. The Christmas tree stands only partly dressed with white sparkling lights.
I look at the photograph of him from two Christmases ago. He was reading the Christmas story from the Book of Luke. A family tradition that took place before the mad ripping of paper and flying of bows. You see my son, who was about 5 years old perched on the back of the recliner reading over his shoulder. My sister-in-law artfully shot this photograph. You cannot see any faces as it was photographed from the back, behind my son. I don’t even know if he knew my son was back there.
…but showing love to a thousand generations of those who love me and keep my commandments.
Precious Savior, thank you for our family ancestors who kept your commandments. For a thousand generations have been blessed and continue to be blessed for their faith and example set before us. May my children pass on the Christian faith to our future family for a thousand more generations. Amen
Thank you to everyone who has prayed with my family these past few weeks. “Judge” was an inspiration to many and he will be missed.