Prayers Requested

Beak found out last night that Uncle C's Grandpa is declining rapidly and he will probably not make it to Christmas. Please take a moment and offer up a little prayer for their family. I'm sure it would be appreciated.

I know how hard it is to lose a Granddad. When mine died I remember thinking that if I were twice the man I am, I wouldn't be half the man he was.

We'll pray for ya.

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Update:

Beak called earlier tonight and told me that Uncle C's Grandpa passed away this evening. It is always difficult to lose someone we love for a time, no matter the length of the life that was lived. Beak has always had a sensitive spirit and she and her family are feeling the pain sharply now. The problem with this kind of pain is that there is no acclimation to it. No matter how often you experience the death of a loved one, it's always a fresh experience.

That is why I am grateful for the wisdom found in the Savior's plan. When we keep an "eternal" view, it is easier to recognize the need for emotions like pain, grief, and separation. I think that I will try to find some way to post a story I wrote shortly after my little brother (Motor's Daddy) was killed. Having the experience of writing that really helped me to realize that time moves so quickly. We think that 60, 70, or even 80 years of separation through death is such a very long time but it isn't. It moves at a blink.

When R died, the hurt was hardly bearable and it didn't seem like it would ever end. And even though I think about him every day (and more so on Wednesdays) I have a hard time believing it has been three years already. The days drag by, the years blink past. And I know that the harsh shock of losing a grandfather will give way to thoughts of good days and better memories; as well as a continued commitment to living worthy to see him again, and have his blessing and admiration for continuing as he would have you live.

Not long after my Grandpa died (Geez, that was nearly a decade ago. WOW!) I found a poem by one of my favorite Irish Poets, Yeats (If the Irish are good for anything it's good funerals and better poems). I love this one, because I loved the "pilgrim soul" in my Grandfather, and I like to think of him watching over me from the stars.


When You Are Old
William Butler Yeats


WHEN you are old and gray and full of sleep,
And nodding by the fire, take down this book,
And slowly read, and dream of the soft look
Your eyes had once, and of their shadows deep;

How many loved your moments of glad grace,
And loved your beauty with love false or true,
But one man loved the pilgrim soul in you,
And loved the sorrows of your changing face;

And bending down beside the glowing bars,
Murmur, a little sadly, how Love fled
And paced upon the mountains overhead
And hid his face among a crowd of stars.

Love ya, Beak. You need me, You call.