On Grief

From the Ranch, a Poem

High up in the sky the sun 
the heat rising from the ground 
tears close to spill
 yet our hearts were tender still 

Miracles right from the start 
prayer a constant spark
 Connecting and strengthening 
In the waiting the Lord was growing tiny seeds in the dark

now before me an expanse 
that spoke of the glory of God 
A smile of miracles seen 
blooms into a sparkle in eyes -a deeper knowing of God

High up in the sky the sun 
the heat rising from the ground
 we enter pastures dresses in beauty all around
 beauty of beasts given by the creator 
beauty in places that astound

watching, touching, loving, 
knowing all this is gift a prayer and a dream 
the shade is comfortable we huddle close seeking shade 
yet, there’s more 
this was beautiful and healing 
and yet more He has in store

an Elijah moment before me
 in the stillness of the day 
the heat rising and oppressive 
we see  the winds pick up
 the branches sway and dance to rhythm the powerful breezes relay

stronger and stronger lifting dust and leaves 
Lifting and twisting in powerful air
the openness now seems dangerous 
But surprisingly it comforts us

just as our hearts began to quake
 And we looked around for shelter and escape
 a cold breeze on our skin the wind becomes breeze 
ushering a new coolness 
ushering peace that surpasses understanding 

the evening turns into a sweet haven 
a whisper of promises from heaven. 

a gentle breeze cool 
a heart poised to hear 
a tender caress from father God whispers, 
“ I see you, I hear you I am yours and you are my delight” 

High up in the sky the sun 
below the daughters of the Son 
a Lord who comes close 
heaven caresses wind blown hair sweet 
now praises rise from the ground

It’s been a year since my grandmother went to heaven. I still as if just yesterday I stood beside her bed and read Psalm 91 over her. Loving her my whole life has been one of my greatest blessings. From the moment she first held my hand to walk to town in Honduras to the moment she last held my hand at her table I knew I was loved. I’m so glad that my children also got to hold her hand because I know they felt the true and peaceful love only she could give. I will continue to remember her in the flowers, in the quiet afternoon coffee time, and in prayer. This year when I see new life grow in the garden I remember that she is whole, new, and full of life too. Te amo, Abuela.

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