My grandpa Art died today at the age of 99. I called him a time traveler.
The thing that comes to me when I think about him is faith.
He had enormous faith.
Faith that if you put seeds to the earth and added water and tending, plants would rise up.
Faith that if you sat patiently enough and set the hook correctly you would bring home fish for dinner.
Faith that wood and nails could be sculpted into a table or a shelf or a swing.
And an unwavering faith in God. Faith that God would provide and God would show the way. I never knew anyone else who held such faith in their beliefs. His faith was something that was a part of him. It was simply understood that my Grandfather placed his trust in Jesus and believed that all would be well.
He's been trying so hard to find his way to the other side over the last few weeks. Last night, my mother was decorating her house for Christmas and talking to my late Grandma Ruth.
"Ruth, we need a little help down here. He's trying so hard but I don't think he knows the way. Please help him. We love him so much and he's working so hard."
And she came to get him.