“Grandma, watch me.”
Her grandson had called her to his side to watch whatever it was he was doing. It didn’t matter what it was, he just wanted her there.
“Are you still watching me Grandma?”
She dares not allow her thoughts to drift, nor her eyes to close.
Often, he would pause, look up at her and smile, then he would wrap his arms around her.
“I love you grandma.”
Her cancer would return. It would be understandable if she had been consumed by worry. But then there was the lily.
“Consider the lilies how they grow. They toil not, they spin not, yet Solomon in all his glory was not arrayed like one of these,” Luke 12:27.
And so, it was in her own words she would write in her journal of God’s promise to her, “Lennie, I love you.”
On the first day of spring, she left us. The lilies now adorn the table behind which are many cards of sympathy, of support, on which are written words of strength that are such a source of comfort in these days of suffering such tremendous loss.
And there, conspicuous, among the cards, is one expressing in simple young grandchild-like fashion, an endearment, a promise, a reminder, recalling precious memories, renewing purpose of what most matters.
Behind the lily.
