Yesterday a story unfolded. The main characters were Christy, Peter and their children. I serve as the narrator, a fly on the wall watching and telling.
Setting: Cornerstone congregation
Context: Every year on Memorial Day Sunday, Pastor honors high school graduates and those who have died. In 2005, my family went up twice to light two candles: One for Mother and one for Robert.
Yesterday was Memorial Day Sunday, 2010. Christy told Lindsay, Jordan and Allison to be ready to go up as a family to light Grandma Ruth's candle. Christy's mother, Ruth Ainsworth, left this life for the next a few months ago. But today she would be remembered among the gathered.
At the end of the service Pastor Roger began calling the families forward to light their candles. "We thank God for the life of..." One by one they were called forward. Then I looked and there were no more unlit candles. And shouldn't Grandma Ruth have been first with her "A" last name or are we proceeding chronologically as their deaths occurred during the calendar year?
Ruth Ainsworth was never named. Her life was not remembered in the sanctuary. Her candle remained unlit.
Christy, who had been crying throughout the service, was inconsolable. Trying hard not to sob, her shoulders shook with disappointment and hurt. "Hope deferred makes the heart sick."
Throughout, Peter was whispering to his Bride. Then his arm came around her shoulders, firm and true. Did Peter understand fully the sadness? Would he have responded the same had his Mother been forgotten? Was his empathy complete? It does not matter. His Bride was hurting. That was enough.
I missed Robert. Sundays found us on the third pew holding hands during the prayers. Robert encircled me in hard times and good, sickness and health until death parted.
Peter's name means "Rock." Indeed he is. Robert means "One of much worth." He was and he is.
Good men are alive and well among us. I am grateful
Good men are alive and well among us. I am grateful












When the lilacs sprout, Good Neighbor sends me a photo. This year he surprised me with my biking mug in the middle of the bloomin' bush. Beautiful! The flowers not the mug. 













