Give thanks for life, the measure of our days;
mortal, we pass through beauty that decays,
yet sing to God our hope, our love, our praise:
On this All Souls Day, who are you remembering?
I’m remembering my great-grandmothers Wathen, Shouse and Yocum. I have only fleeting, fading memories of them, but their legacies live on in my family and my life.
I’m remembering my dad’s father, John, who I called Poppy. His example of selfless volunteerism inspires me to this day.
I’m remembering my dad’s mother, Frankie, who’s unwavering faith and endless patience with me showed me what it meant to be loved.
Give thanks for those who made their life a light
caught from the Christ-flame, bursting through the night,
who touched the truth, who burned for what is right,
I’m remembering Les, my step-grandfather and the first funeral I ever performed. Les welcomed my family and me into his home and his life with open arms. His hospitality will always be with me.
I’m remembering my mom’s dad, Leonard, who I called PawPaw. He was probably the single biggest influence on my faith, both in God and in the Kentucky Wildcats. PawPaw is still with me every day.
And for our own, our living and our dead,
thanks for the love by which our life is fed,
a love not changed by time or death or dread:
I’m remembering Emma Hope, who died way too young of a brain tumor. I’m remembering Jeanne O. and Jeanne A., two saints of the church who I have the honor of knowing, loving and memorializing.
I’m remembering Bob and Rachel, who died within my first month here at Crestwood, and all the other saints who have gone before me.
I’m remembering the love, generosity and sacrifice of all those who have gone before me, and I’m living with the promise that we will be together again.
Give thanks for hope, that, like the wheat, the grain
lying in darkness does its life retain,
in resurrection to grow green again: