A stroll around the backyard, a lingering under the front bushes to witness the lily of the valley beginning to come up (her treasures) and then, the SOLD sign boldly confronts me there by the birch. None of it seems right and yet, it had to happen some time. I just never prepared myself for when.
Oh, Mama, are you skipping along your streets of gold? Are you relishing in your many rooms? Are you sitting at the feet of your Master, finally receiving the answers to the myriad of questions you had about love and people and Jesus? I can't wait to see you there! Oh, number seven! His perfect number. You're with the One who numbered the stars!
Oh, frail man, my precious Grampie, one day you'll join her-- leave us too. Can we keep you just a little while longer? I'll understand though, when you slip away to that home where you have no more confusion, where all things are clear and your stories of drawing so many people to the Saviour are a reality for you. Until then, I'll hold you and remember her too. And as I pass by number seven, I'll thank Him for the years I've had in that perfect place.