ANOTHER FAVORITE
I make no comments, except that I loved my grandfather very dearly.
REBIRTH
The geese are on the wing tonight
As we walk homeward from the church.
The moon is shining very bright
In this season of rebirth.
Frogs are peeping in the ditch
Half-full now with fresh rainwater.
Fields are plowed, the earth so rich.
The fenceline piled with last years' fodder.
Daffodils of gold and white
Light our way across the field,
Glowing in the full moonlight.
Winter's harshness now has healed.
The wind is warm upon our face,
Blowing from the south tonight.
We feel secure in God's own grace
As we walk toward the porch light.
The old man, sitting in his chair,
Waiting for us as of old,
Flecks of silver in his hair,
Is wearing a sweater against his cold.
We tell him of the evening service
He couldn't attend because of his ills.
The hound beside him seems so nervous,
Wanting to be out in the hills.
But he won't go without his master,
And his master won't go again.
But his mind was always faster
Than his body could carry him.
In his mind he walks the hills
Remembering a time long past,
When he traveled past the rills
And a longer shadow cast.
He knows his time is growing short
Upon this earth he loves so well.
That old man has held the fort
But now he hears the ringing bell.
Go with love, and we'll soon join you.
Open wide those Pearly Gates.
Here we come, Grandpa, to meet you
Where our beloved Jesus waits.
He was only 79 when he left us back in 1956. I was not quite fourteen. I remember him better than a lot of others whom I knew much longer, and whom I loved just as much. But Grandpa had a very strong influence on me. And I try to pattern myself after him as much as I can. He was an uneducated man as far as schooling goes, but was wise in every way. A gentle man who knew when the whip needed to be cracked, but would cry when he had to do so, who could handle the plow or the rake and still was able to cook and clean if that was needed to help around the house. He was almost blind physically, but had a vision that far exceeded that of most men.
And, like me, he was a storyteller, too. Many Sunday afternoons he would sit and keep us spellbound with his memories of the times when he was a youngster, in the 1880's and 1890's. He saw the bicycles become the rage, and then the automobile, and then the airplane and the jet. One day in the early 1950's, I was probably ten or so, he told us of the coming travels to the moon and ventures out into space--and he knew enough science to make us believe it, too, almost twenty years before it happened.
A marvelous old man. I just cannot tell you how much I would like for him to be here with me so we could sit and talk about life again.
REBIRTH
The geese are on the wing tonight
As we walk homeward from the church.
The moon is shining very bright
In this season of rebirth.
Frogs are peeping in the ditch
Half-full now with fresh rainwater.
Fields are plowed, the earth so rich.
The fenceline piled with last years' fodder.
Daffodils of gold and white
Light our way across the field,
Glowing in the full moonlight.
Winter's harshness now has healed.
The wind is warm upon our face,
Blowing from the south tonight.
We feel secure in God's own grace
As we walk toward the porch light.
The old man, sitting in his chair,
Waiting for us as of old,
Flecks of silver in his hair,
Is wearing a sweater against his cold.
We tell him of the evening service
He couldn't attend because of his ills.
The hound beside him seems so nervous,
Wanting to be out in the hills.
But he won't go without his master,
And his master won't go again.
But his mind was always faster
Than his body could carry him.
In his mind he walks the hills
Remembering a time long past,
When he traveled past the rills
And a longer shadow cast.
He knows his time is growing short
Upon this earth he loves so well.
That old man has held the fort
But now he hears the ringing bell.
Go with love, and we'll soon join you.
Open wide those Pearly Gates.
Here we come, Grandpa, to meet you
Where our beloved Jesus waits.
He was only 79 when he left us back in 1956. I was not quite fourteen. I remember him better than a lot of others whom I knew much longer, and whom I loved just as much. But Grandpa had a very strong influence on me. And I try to pattern myself after him as much as I can. He was an uneducated man as far as schooling goes, but was wise in every way. A gentle man who knew when the whip needed to be cracked, but would cry when he had to do so, who could handle the plow or the rake and still was able to cook and clean if that was needed to help around the house. He was almost blind physically, but had a vision that far exceeded that of most men.
And, like me, he was a storyteller, too. Many Sunday afternoons he would sit and keep us spellbound with his memories of the times when he was a youngster, in the 1880's and 1890's. He saw the bicycles become the rage, and then the automobile, and then the airplane and the jet. One day in the early 1950's, I was probably ten or so, he told us of the coming travels to the moon and ventures out into space--and he knew enough science to make us believe it, too, almost twenty years before it happened.
A marvelous old man. I just cannot tell you how much I would like for him to be here with me so we could sit and talk about life again.
posted by tanstaafl | 10:40 AM
2 Comments:
You made me cry.
When I think about death, I do not fear it. Instead, I think about how wonderful it will be if I do, indeed, get to sit at my great grandmothers feet once again and listen to her stories. I pray so much for that to be true.
I do not apologize for your tears. They join with mine. And the fact that they are tears of joy simply make them more heartfelt. Thank you for your comment.
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