The Address

Finishing some correspondence late last night, I needed a couple of addresses. Utilizing a google search, I plugged in the name of an obscure little town in South Dakota. To my surprise, my Grandfather's obituary, hinging off of the name of his son, was listed first among the findings. I attempted to open the hyperlink, but it failed to respond.

I then retraced my steps and tried a different link.

There is was, reading tall and stately, with deep integrity, the life of a man who graced our lives with his servants' heart and gracious manner.

Everything within my being stood as silent as the walls of the darkened, sleeping home that surrounded me.

The poignant moment, etched now in my mind, reminding me of the brevity of life ~ the perfect moment to take leave of my task, turn out the light, and retire for the night.

All flesh is grass, and all the goodliness thereof is as the flower of the field: The grass withereth, the flower fadeth: because the spirit of the LORD bloweth upon it: surely the people is grass. The grass withereth, the flower fadeth: but the word of our God shall stand for ever. Isaiah 40:6-8