Honoring Ruth: (2) When it Snows She has no Fear

In her own handwriting, in a book she made for my cousin Cameron.
Check out the fifth line from the bottom,  Season: "I love the snow...."

He spoke from his heart, the memories pouring out of him as he set them parallel with the verses. She was the most beautiful lady I've ever known, and she walked with grace and virtue. His words brought comfort to us as we gathered to honor her days. I sat with my mother and father together as we savored this bittersweet and powerful moment. We allowed our minds to drift into memories.

When it snowed in Ohio we never knew if it would be a dusting or a thick accumulation. I've seen pictures of the blizzard of '76 with me standing bundled in the shadow of snow that towered over my head, and I remember the spring that surprised us with over a foot of snow on Easter Sunday. My grandparents lived in a forested area outside of town and hills surrounded their A-frame home. For hours I rode a plastic sled down those hills, with Goldie the Golden Retriever cheerfully bouncing and barking around my laughing descents.

My Mammaw Ruth loved the snow. She would join me for a time and then she'd observe me through the glass with a warm cup of coffee as she sat beside the hearth inside. I remember that day, with the roads still covered, she drove into town so that we could enjoy a Frosty together from Wendy's.

My uncle shared from the podium beside her, as she rested with a Bible in her hands, that she had done exactly the same thing in the big snow of '76. He said that her reply after being told that the roads were too bad was, "well, we're sure to get a good parking place." 

Mammaw Ruth found the beauty in the snow like she saw the beauty in life. She didn't merely appreciate the ethereal shine of the snow while sitting beside the hearth. Sure, that was something to be enjoyed as well and it had its place in her day. But she also felt the wind kiss her face red as she shrieked down a snow covered hill with a boy and a dog. She put a car into drive and heard the crunch of the tires into think and perfect banks of snow as we explored the eerie silence of blanketed roads in search of a frozen chocolate treat.  She did not fear the snow. 

She did not fear the snow, she embraced life. She taught me how to smile and find beauty in the moment, rather than to bemoan the limitations of the day. If the weather was scorching, well... we played with the hose. If snow surrounded us with its arms of silence, we fell into that embrace and celebrated with snow angels. 

I was young. I noticed the fun stuff that she did. But her actions were rooted in something far deeper than the snow that turned our world magical. And this deep foundation gave her the fortitude to be the strong, gentle, beautiful lady that she was day in and day out. For us grandkids, she was our safe-harbor, our open arms, an always perfectly timed hug or kiss on the cheek. She represented the best of our world. 

Proverbs 31, verse 10 though the end describes my Mammaw perfectly. She gave to the poor, she had the confidence of her husband  she prepared what was needed for those she loved, she spoke with wisdom and laughed at the days to come. 

I think back to those moments in that funeral and I can hear the voice of my uncle as he explained, "you see, Mom wasn't afraid of the snow. She'd get out there and she'd enjoy it. She'd make sure that the whole family enjoyed it. Because that's how Mom lived life. She did her best to make sure we were prepared for the unexpected. And when it fell down on us, she had no fear of the snow.

"When it snows, she has no fear for her household;

    for all of them are clothed in scarlet."

Honoring Ruth: (1) First I Gotta Get Outta Guatemala!

Contemplative moments are something I have enjoyed for as long as I can recall. I was first aware of this the summer of 1994 that I spent walking behind a Skagg three blade, four foot cutting deck walk behind lawn mower. Endless fields stretched for sun-scorched hours as I’d make parallel rows below an open sky.

While it is a traumatic event for many, airline rides though the open sky have now become my arena of thought. The orderly presence of humanity spiced with endless accidental bumps, the cries of children, and the warm jostle of the craft create a unique miniverse that hums with the backdrop of the turbines and the slicing of the thin cold air.

I am considering death, life, eternity, and the present and aware state of my recently passed grandmother. It’s a glimpse into her immediate consciousness that I desire. I want to know what she feels, what she sees, what occupies her thoughts, and what expression is on her face. I consider that a heavenly body may not have a face as I know it. I do not doubt that all this is ongoing, I simply wonder what she experiences at this moment as I brush along the firmament.

This flight carries me to Ohio where I will stand as watcher and in honor of the passing of her life into forever. She has been ill for quite some time, with care from some incredible ladies who have been her friend, her advocate, and her hospice nurses. My uncle Stephen is there, weary from the unparalleled experience of being her primary caregiver. No-one would choose to endure the things he has, and yet I know without doubt that he would never trade it away. I owe him an unpayable debt for his sacrifice, and I envy the depth of his experience.

If you know me well, you know that I despise when people tell me they’ll pray for my safety. With an identity of a follower of Jesus, I understand that safety really isn’t part of the deal. I do believe that God protects, and I can tell you how He has many times, it’s just that I try to focus my prayers more closely to His will being done, His kingdom expanding, and my walking in His favor. And so these past few days when I’ve told people of this homecoming, I’ve been specific when I asked them to pray.

The broad idea was that I walk faithful to the will of God and act in ways that reflect my belief. Specifically… I asked them to pray that I make it onto the flight. Volcano Fuego had the airport closed, ticket prices increased beyond my budget, and my visa is expired. Our family is in the final stage of gaining residency in Guatemala and our visas are past date. I have a letter from Guatemala Immigration that states I am in process, but it is designed to cover me for in country encounters with authorities, not for international travel.

The word from our attorney was that they “probably would let me through,” but that I would need to explain hardship, and explain why I did not have an official travel letter. This has been a concern for me with my limited language skills, and a non-refundable ticket that was made possible by the loving generosity of seven dear friends who attend Journey Church Guatemala.

I was unsure of how things would go with me and the Immigration official. He was all that separated me from the gate. Since the aiport has been closed, about 6000 people were still stranded in Guatemala as of yesterday, and so there was a good chance that I’d get bumped from my flight, or my seat would be double-booked. In order to get the best shot of getting on-board, Kellie dropped me off at the airport at 3:30 am, more than three hours before boarding time. And so a lot was riding on this prayer supported moment.

God answers prayers in many ways. Sometimes the way I expect, and sometimes I have something to learn from an alternate experience. I crossed the yellow line and approached the official at his summons. To my astonishment the entire exchange lasted no more than 20 seconds. He took my passport and begin flipping though the visa stamps. I told him that my visa was expired. He looked up and I handed him my form for in country explanation. He glanced at it, replied, “no problem,” stamped my passport and I was released to travel.

He did not verify a single fact or examine a single stamp. I have never processed through that quickly. I walked away… waiting for him to call me back. But he did not.

And so here I am contemplating grand concepts, big imaginings, and temporal events, all silhouetted with the backdrop of my faith. I’m not sure what the next seven days will bring, but I am sure that I am where I am because I am walking in the favor of God. It is good to return to honor my Grandmother.

Honoring Ruth: (2) When it Snows She Has no Fear

-To Continue the Story-

Sweetly Broken: Until Again We Embrace

The times we face that overwhelm us, that threaten to swallow us, that are black and bleak all around us, these are the times when we must stand. So many times we think that if things get tough, we don't have to be obedient to the commands of God. But in these moments we forget that it is the commands of God that provide us a way back to Him. We are the broken. We are unholy and we seek things apart from Him. We think we don't have to be faithful when things get tough, and then it is our unfaithfulness that separates us from the only One who can save us.

Far too often we stick to our belief only when life is safe, but when things get challenging, and we come to that moment for which we were created to stand... we throw away our faith for an easy exit. In that moment we forfeit the person God was shaping us to become. We tell God that the thing we fear to lose is worth more to us than our relationship with Him. We place that person or that thing above Him. "God, I'm not willing to give THAT to you." And we sacrifice our belief on the alter of self. And in that moment we turn our hearts away from God as we mutter, "why would a just God allow this to happen?"

How is it that we do not understand that He created a perfect garden? It was our choice to reject Him that led us away from His embrace. He then sacrificed and suffered to bring us back. His suffering on the cross, taking on my sin, paying the price, was greater. Only humanity could sin, separating us from the eternal life of God, and only the sacrifice of that Holy God could pay the price of death. Life had to die to pay the death tag of sin.

My grandmother, Ruth Mathis was my foundation of faith. I've watched this lady my entire life stare challenges and difficulty in the face. I've seen her weak moments. I've seen when she wanted to run. But more often than that I've seen her hit her knees and become broken before God. I've seen her yield to Him over and over. 

Today my uncle Stephen Skyped me as I worked at my desk. He took the computer over to my little Mammaw as she lay in her bed, propped up with soft pillows and beautiful quilts as the sun beamed softly onto the fabric next to her. She was struggling to breath, gasping rapidly and open-mouthed. I had gathered my family around the screen on this end, and Stephen asked me to talk to her. 

I felt so awkward, uncomfortable and on the spot. And then I realized that this moment wasn't about me, I needed to reach out to her. The nurse said that she could hear and understand us even though she couldn't react. I began to speak to her about our favorite times in the past. After I'd finished, the nurse said that every time I spoke to her, her breathing calmed. 

Stephen asked me to pray. My heart nearly burst as he described how I used to come over as a child and we'd pray together into the night. And then he said, "all right, Chad is going to pray for you." I couldn't talk. I couldn't even breath. Everyone looked at me and I was petrified. I took a breath and began to pray.

I don't know what I said but I felt my soul emptying across the expanse between us. I relived amazing days filled with her energy, laughter, and smile. I remembered the first time she met each of my children, the faith she passed to me, the feeling that somehow the universe was right and God could be good and suffering was worth it because of the way that she loved me. I thanked her for being a Godly woman, and for giving me what I needed to grow. 

I promised her that her legacy continues and that what she taught me I live out and tell to others. She is making a difference and would continue to do so through my children for generations. I told her I love her and I look forward to the day we are all united again in the presence of God. I said my last words to her in the presence of God and in the witness of my family. With my eyes wet, my chest bursting, and my hands trembling, I spoke, "amen." 

Twice during my prayer I had stopped because I thought the Skype session had disconnected. Her rapid breathing had calmed to a regular cadence. Her face was relaxed. She was with us as we reached out and touched God together. This time was a tough time, and yet we had stood together as she had taught me through a life time of living. I will live a life that pleases my God and honors her.

We ended the call. Her breathing was slowed and we all were near weeping. 

A few minutes later Stephen called me back. He had gone to her and told her it was ok to go. She had been fighting all morning with her vitals nearly stopping... and then racing back... to then slowly tug back down. He told her that her Grandma and Grandpa, her mom Elsie and dad Jim were waiting. He had joked that her husband was in heaven honking the car horn... trying to rush her out of the house like on so many Sunday mornings past... and that he was waiting on her. He told her that God was ready to hug her home. He told her it was ok to go.

She took a couple of calm, slow breaths... and then she went home.

I will see you again my sweet Mammaw. Until that time, my days will honor you.

[kiss-kiss-kiss-kiss] 

Honoring Ruth: (1) First I Gotta Get Outta Here

-Click to Continue the Story-

Now I Lay Her Down to Sleep...

Surreal. I sit at a desk that surveys a foreign landscape. Ash falls from the sky, darkening out the sun as red lava ignites the scrub and brush. But that is all 30 miles away. I can hear trucks power-breaking their engines as they round the bend just up the mountain. Dogs bark without end as they always do and a typical Saturday night party is heating up somewhere as the low atmosphere refracts the sound. The air is chilly. Our power has flickered a few times tonight and soundly went out once. I feared it was from the volcano, a citywide power outage could spell trouble. It was not. My aluminum magnum bat rests in the corner. 

She's dying. I've never lived a day without her breathing on this earth. The nurses say we're down to days... or maybe just hours. She introduced me to avocados when I was a child, and now they grow all around me. She would have loved all the bright colors here. She filled my life with sherbet, ice cream, frosty-malts, cheese-cake, music, and goodness. 

Knowing that she loves me no matter what, has brought me back from the brink and made me want to be a better man. I've seen her cry, listened to her pray (oh... what a prayer), and joined her in many a laugh. Prayer. She could pray like none other. Such thankfulness. Overwhelming sincerity. And always an overpowering sense of hope. 

I spent 8 hours today trying to find a way to her. I don't think she'd know me... I'm not sure? I don't know if I'd even make it there on time. No flights available today. There wasn't a single one. It's probably good. I might have bankrupted the family to get there. Then questions about our visa status. We are in process for residency and I was unclear if I was permitted to leave the country. 

That question seemed to be answered that I could, and so I started again looking at fares. They increased. The only route would be to Detroit, and then a 3 hour drive south. I was nearing the point of hitting purchase, even though I find myself about $450 short (flight, rental cars, forfeited stipend from the school for taking time off)... but surely God would provide. He always has. 

And then the volcano erupted and shut down the airport. Do you believe in signs? I'm the half crazed grandson of a preacher who believes it enough. I know its madness and yet I still believe that God creates these roadblocks. The question then... is to discern if they are a sign for me to stop, or if I am meant to climb over the obstacles in order to learn tenacity, or some other lesson? 

My nose is cold from the chilly air, and sore from a careless swing of my machete last night that sent a piece of firewood bouncing off my face. I'm tired. I contemplate mortality. I imagine death as a sentient being so that I can stare him in the face. I want him to know that I do not fear him. I know the one who defeated him. I want to tell him that when he takes her, do it with the grace and dignity she deserves. 

Fireworks blast in the distance and I have no idea why. Maybe it's part of the party? Maybe it's someone's drunken birthday bash? I'll check airline prices again tomorrow if the airport opens. The last time it was closed due to volcanic ash was 2010 when it was closed for five days. Fuego continues to spew smoke and ash. I expect the airport will remain closed. I wonder if I should be there for her passing? I imagine it as a holy moment. 

I wonder if my family would want me present for the funeral? Would I speak a few words? I can not imagine her gone. So much of my faith was given root by her.

I was away at university when Grandpa Harry died. I was away here in Guatemala when Pop Mathis died. I was eleven when Mammaw Mack Shepherd died. I remember weeping while sitting on my bedside. She was my first loss. I eulogized Mammaw Henry, and also Pop. It is a lonely place to stand on a pulpit above the open casket of the recently departed person you love as hundreds of glossy eyes stare at your shaking hands. My voice was steady for Pop. I was at ease. I knew where he was. 

I have the assurance that I'll see them all again. Of that I do not doubt. And so tonight the ash falls from the sky as it rains in my heart. Darkness surrounds me but it does not consume me. It is well with my soul. If I could sit down with death, I'd ask him to take her. Take her and lead her home. It shatters me when I think of her suffering. 

She loves me so much. "Love so amazing, so divine. Demands my life, my soul, my all." She lived this. She showed me the way. Her LORD suffered so much more. Suffered to reconcile us to the Father. Praise God. 

It is time for me to yield to sleep for the night. I think of so many nights spent at her house and the prayer we'd sing together, 

"Now I lay me down to sleep. I pray thee LORD my soul to keep. If I should die before I wake, I pray thee LORD my soul to take."

Good night Mammaw Ruth.  God holds you in His hand. He holds us all. Praise the LORD, it is well with my soul. We'll see what tomorrow brings. 

My Mammaw Ruth with Sterling, my youngest, this past summer.

Sweetly Broken Until Again We Embrace

-To Continue the Story-

Touching Eternity Beside an Empty Chair

Now I lay me down to sleep.

I pray thee Lord my soul to keep.

If I should die before I wake,

I pray thee Lord my soul to take.

God bless mother and father too.

Help all the children be honest and true.

Amen.

His chair sits empty now. The pillows are arranged to fit the small of his back and to support his arms. His dark plastic glasses rest on the table. His absence fills the room.

Her chair is filled with the best of my world. My Mammaw, Ruth Mathis. We step around the side and enter her peripheral vision. Her head is tilted slightly down. Her eyes are closed and I can't bring myself to speak interruption into her rest. My mother is there and she breaks the silence.

Mammaw opens her eyes and immediately glances over to the empty chair. I feel her pain as the realization of his passing sweeps over her in a wave. I imagine this is her ritual. My mind is considering the pain that she must be feeling, when her gaze turns towards us.

The transformation of her face was nothing less than majestic, like watching the sun break over the horizon of the ocean. She began to raise her left arm. It was shaking and slow, but she extended her hand and her finger uncurled towards us. Her smile intensified as she pulled in a steady break, fixed her eyes, and said, "Sterling."

Words come with great difficulty, and memory can be a challenge for her. Through all of these obstacles, she recognized the face of the family's newest member, an adopted little girl from China.

The moment was exquisite. I went from tears of empathy to tears of joy. I once read that the chemical composition in tears is different based on the emotional reaction. The full periodic table must have been on my face. 

The day continued with a pool outside, amazing burgers and dogs with sauces from Frisch's and Skyline. I went outside to briefly sit with the family and to snarf down 3 burgers. But I couldn't sit out there in the sun with my Mammaw sitting beside the empty chair. In my mind's eye I could distinctly picture two empty chairs. This time is precious.

I walked into her room and passed by the chair that seemed sacred. Mammaw slept as I rearranged the furniture of the room, removing a magazine rack and pulling a third chair directly against hers. She woke up with her hand in mine as her favorite video played and I sang softly along with an old hymn.

The day went by too fast. With my talking... a run-through of my favorite memories with her. Days of hot-wheels, shared chilitos, ice-cream, and lots of desert. I teased her about hiding from me to eat the final cheese-chilito from a Zantigo bag. I told her, "I have a question I've wanted to ask you for years and years. Did you hide so that you could have the whole chilito to yourself?" Her entire body shook with laughter as she brought her head up and down in a beaming smile nod! 

In that moment... we were transported back to those days.

She grew tired. My uncle Stephen rounded the corner and it was time to get her some dinner, and then tuck her into bed. He helped her into her bed as I sat back in the glow of the memories.

I walked down the hallway into the darkened room. I passed Pop's empty bed. His Bible was layed open at the top and I paused to consider that nearly every word was underlined, and the pages were worn thin. My eyes looked over to Mammaw, tucked in the bed, the blanket up to her chin.

Her eyes were closed and her breathing was peaceful and quiet. I knelt down beside her and was overcome with the symmetry of the scene. Nearly 4 decades ago, her and I experience this moment like a reflected image. It was always her kneeling at the bed, praying with me.

Her eyes opened and we exchanged a smile. I could see the outline of her hand underneath the quilt and I place mine over hers. I told her about my memories of us praying together at night when I stayed with her as a small boy. We both had falling tears as I talked through those memories.

I asked her if I could pray with her. I can't remember the words I used, but the emotions were powerful. It was a holy moment. Somehow, our memories, our shared history, our faith, and the sincerity of the moment was recognized by heaven. I have no doubt that we were joined with the very presence of God.

My prayer ended, and the moment was somehow fragile. I felt like we were somehow transfigured to something outside of time. We simply were present together... and nothing could separate us from the shared experience. I understood that I would never lose her.

It was at this moment that I told her I wanted to sing to her like she had sung to me countless nights. I leaned in close, tears of eternal joy mixed with tears of human grief... the air constricted in my throat as I sang out from decades past, 

"Now I lay me down to sleep. I pray thee Lord my soul to keep." The next line came hard as my mind grasped the significance... "If I should die before I wake, I pray thee Lord my soul to take."

Yes... I am so thankful. The empty chair is evidence that my Pop is with the creator, his God, our Father.

I sang on...

"God bless mother and father too."

I pictured my mom and dad... I am so thankful for this life they've given to me. I prayed for their continued days. I love them more than I know how to show. I hope to show it with my life.

"Help all the children be honest and true."

Caleb, Aleksandra, Sterling... soon this will all pass to you. It will be me in the bed, with all the others gone before me. I am so thankful to pass on this faith, this legacy, this song...

"Amen."

Now I Lay Her Down to Sleep

-To Continue the Story-

For Every Bear That Ever Was There

Me, Tricia, & Mammaw Ruth
Americana Amusement Park, LeSourdsville, Ohio
circa 1980

"If you go out in the woods today

you'd better go in disguise.

If you go out in the woods today

be in for a big surprise.

For every bear that ever was there

is going to be there today because

today's the day the teddy bears

have their picnic.

I didn't know how to comfort her. Terror seemed to be pushing on the boundaries of my consciousness. How is this world such an incredible paradox? I was twirling on my fingers the greatest contrast of my life... the assurance of God pursuing my soul, and the present sting of death.

There was a God who created a perfect garden, placing humanity inside so that he could walk with them in the cool of the day. And that reality was shattered when creation chose disobedience in pursuit of forbidden knowledge.

And this same God chases us still. His self sacrifice to be able to walk with us in spirit. I know this all to be true. 

And yet still I feel the sting of the consequence of that separation from God... that same separation that sent them running from that Garden in their nakedness.

I sat there beside my little Mammaw as tears streamed down her face. Today was another piece of this seemingly un-ending goodbye. She was married to my grandfather (Pop) for 69 years. How do you say goodbye after weathering storms and sunny days of nearly 7 decades?

Her wisdom far exceeds my own. Still, I find myself in that room holding her hand as she trembled with silent tears. The crowd pressing in to pay respects was unending. Her strength was not. The powerful emotions of the day were nearly too much. I was determined to be strong, and I had been. I came from afar to offer my faith. My God is in control.

And indeed He is.

We had withdrawn to give her a chance to rest. My cousin Tricia was there. She began to talk about how Mammaw used to teach us a song about bears on a picnic. I began to sing the song. "If you go out in the woods today..."  It was such a rich moment! At first I felt ridiculous and childish as I sang those first few notes... and then I realized the beauty of the moment. 

She had sang those words to us in times of uncertainty. She had sang those words to us as we navigated the unknown pieces of life. We sat in that quiet room, facing the silence alone as the words of that song brought back for the three of us a simple, powerful truth...

...we do not face the woods alone. We walk together. The God who created us to walk in the cool of the day with him, also gave us one another to walk along beside. 

With my arm around the back of that chrome and black wheelchair, I leaned my head against Mammaw's and I began to softly sing the words of: Amazing Grace, Blessed Assurance, The Old Rugged Cross, and finally, Joy Unspeakable! The hymns I grew up singing beside her and my mother in church.

I could see tears running down her face. One escaped on my own and left a trail on my cheek. I didn't wipe it away, it felt like a great treasure. I was not ashamed of singing about bears on picnics, I was not ashamed of letting a tear flow.

I was cherishing this moment of sharing this incredible thing we call life with my cousin and my Mammaw. Let me tell you this. Life is beautiful. Even the hard parts that press our sanity and get attacked by terror. I push the terror back and I stare it directly in the face as I embrace the beauty.

We are creations of God. We are garden-walkers. We are God talkers. We are hand-holders with one another as we navigate this road back to God. He pursues us. I hugged my little Mammaw over and over and over as I relentlessly looked up to the face of God. 

And on that day... for those of us who continue to seek the face of the one who pursues us...

"every bear that ever was there

is going to be there today because -

today's the day the teddy bear's 

have their picnic."

The day will come when we go out in the woods... and I know I will have that picnic. We will all sing together again. I thought I needed to comfort my Mammaw, but I realized that I just needed to love her, to sit beside her, to reflect on the promises of God...

...and His comfort found us all. 

I give thanks to God!

Forever Riding in a Big Red Cadillac

       

Ruth and Carmel 

Mathis

They drove a bright red Cadillac. It must have been around 1982, I suppose I was in about the 2nd grade. I rode Bus 8 home each day from the West Elkton Elementary School. I remember the bus lurching and creaking as Mr. Wilson the chain-smoking bus driver slowed to drop me off. I can't remember what kind of day I had, but what I do remember is how I jumped out of my seat, laughed, and ran down the aisle, bounding down the three big stairs from the bus to the ground. Right in the middle of my gravel driveway sat that big red Cadillac. My Mammaw and Pop were there to pick me up! And that's how they've always been to me.

That's me and my cousin Tricia with Mammaw Ruth. I'm not sure, but I think we were at Americana Amusement Park in LeSourdesville, Ohio. Memories with Mammaw Ruth are full of sunshine, butterflies, flowers, cheesecake, Wendy's Frosties, Ho-Ho's hidden from Pop (he would eat them all), and Cheese Chilitos from Zantigos!

Mammaw and Pop just always made me feel like everything in the world was right. When I was with them, nothing else mattered and there was absolutely nothing that could harm me. I spent most of my summers with them and a good many weekends. I had a special big T-shirt I could sleep in and I even had special socks with fuzzy balls sewed to them that I knew where always waiting for me under the center cushion of the big couch. Inside of the octangular coffee table that opened up like a magic accordion, there was a white and black tin of crayons sitting on top of the biggest stack of coloring books I had ever seen.

Uncle Stephen's room held a secret box of matchbox cars. For years I thought he never knew that I sneaked them out and admired them. I was so careful not to scratch them (he later told me that he always knew). Mammaw had a basket of cars that I was free to slam and crash!

I would sit and run my fingers through the white shag carpet while Pop would tell me Bible stories. Sometimes he would talk about his mamma, or his life growing up as a tobacco farmer. He also would tell me about meeting Mammaw, dating her, and about how much she loved him!

He always had a tooth-pick in his mouth, a gleam in his eye, and if you let him get too close he would tackle you in a big hairy arm bear-hug before tormenting you with tickles or wrestling holds. 

I remember hearing him preach and seeing people rush to the alter in fervent prayer. I remember praying at night with Mammaw and always ending by singing

"Now I lay me down to sleep..."

My faith was formed in those years. My theology grounded in their memories. Whenever the road gets hard, or my emotions betray me, or I just feel like I don't have anything left... I think of them. 

Pop is ninety years old now and Mammaw is only a little younger. Their days are consumed with sleeping and even eating is becoming a more difficult task for them. The uncle who used to have the magic tin of Matchbox cars now has a different treasure. Mammaw and Pop live at his house now.

I wish I could just sneak into the room, find them, and admire them. It is very difficult to be so far from them, knowing that this is the time that I should be for them what they always were for me. 

I should be there to let them know that the world is alright. I should be there so that they know nothing else matters and I wouldn't let anything harm them. This sacrifice is difficult at times. 

They know where I am. They know that I serve. And on those days that I feel heavy or wonder how I can keep on going... I remember that red Cadillac sitting in the driveway. I remember all the smiles, hugs, and butterfly kisses. I remember the long talks in the shag. I remember the faith they passed on to me.

And I want to be a better man. I want to walk in faith. I want to live fearless. I want them to know that they still make me feel like nothing in the world can touch me.

I think of them. I want my life to honor them.

Touching Eternity Beside an Empty Chair

-To Continue the story-