Bare feet, sloppy joe's, cream sweaters, upset the fruit basket,
dancing snowmen, pumpkins, wicker chairs, gum drops,
dark blue bottles, cherry pie, herbs, Max Lucado,
and wind chimes will always remind me of her.
In the words of her obituary: "Hazel celebrated life in all its seasons and ages." Just last year, she was telling me how I must have my hands full with 3 boys. She said she'd keep trying to get out of the nursing home, so that she could come out to help me (at 92 years of age :) I love that she truly believed that!
It has been so sweet to find traces of history in these things of hers. Of lives that were fully-lived. Stories that can only be pieced together by imagination. Personalities that unfold in hidden postcards.
It makes me think of the story we're living. The legacy we're leaving.
How will they remember me?
Did I choose to love?
Did I point to You enough?
We may have a ripe 93 years of this life to make things right,
or we may not make it through the night. Yet, life goes on...
This world is not our home. This life is not the end.
May we learn to swing wide our doors to those who need a hug or a hand or a gum drop (or ten).
And may we not waste another minute of another day depending on anyone other than the Name above all names, Jesus Christ--our only Hope.
But when the kindness and love of God our Savior appeared,
He saved us, not because of righteous things we had done,
but because of His mercy.
~ Titus 3.4