My parents are coming back to the states on Friday, so my
Uncle and I have begun the process of choosing a day to drive up to the White
Mountains to disperse Grammy and Grampa’s ashes.
We already know the place – Crawford Notch. Grammy chose it
over a decade ago. Her favorite place in “our mountains” which were “the most
beautiful” in the world.
They had both chosen to be cremated and sold their burial
plots before Grampa died. Grammy was adamant about not wanting any of us to
feel obligated to visit her grave.
Because she won’t be there.
As I think about the woman she was – her grace under amazing
adversity, her peace during the dying process, her faithful prayers for each of
her loved ones – I can’t help thinking that I want to be like that.
But then I look at myself and I see all of the time I waste
on video games and mystery novels, the way I get caught up in getting things
done and forget why I’m doing them and Who I’m doing them for. Those wondrous
in-His-presence, almost-getting-the-Real-meaning-of-life, nothing-else-matters
moments have become so few and so far between.
Satan shouts, “Ah, just give up. You’ll never be like her.
You’re just you.”
The Spirit whispers, “Remember, it took her a lifetime to
get where she was. You’re still on the journey.”
And I realize again that the little choices matter as greatly as
the big ones. It’s a lifetime of little choices that make you who you are.
So today I choose to ignore the shouts and listen to the
whispers. Today I’ll put down the iPad and go for a walk in the woods. I’ve got
to get ready to climb that mountain…
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| The goose at Crawford Notch (eons ago...) |
