The trees sway gently from the whisper of His breath. And just like that–fall turns into winter and there is beauty in the dying–everywhere.
She stood by the casket for what seemed like forever. Alone, stroking his arm. And her tears spoke volumes of her love. Their life together as father and daughter.
A writer once wrote, “When your Daddy dies, everything changes.”
He never cried as he kept walking up to the coffin. His tiny hands cupping the sides of the cloth as he pulled himself taller, standing on his tiny toes. He wanted just a few more looks at his Papaw. This child not much older than three years.
I’m not sad anymore he told his family. Because I know my Papaw is in heaven. And sometimes the tenderest of young hearts are our strongest expressions of faith.
And she waited by his bedside. Hours upon hours. The doctors told the family he could be taking his last breath any time. This granddaughter she waited, clinging to his side and praying. Praying for God to come and take him home where there is no more suffering or pain. And even though her heart ached, her faith and trust in her heavenly Father was stronger than any fear of death.
Jesus’ death. His dying didn’t come without pain or sorrow. But before He bowed his head and said these words, It is finished, (John 19:30, KJV), He spoke this promise,
In my Father’s house are many mansions: if it were not so, I would have told you. I go to prepare a place for you. And if I go and prepare a place for you, I will come again, and receive you unto myself; that where I am, there ye may be also. (John 14:2-3, KJV).
And on the front porch tonight stands a little tree glowing with white lights. Shining in celebration of His birth, His coming.