We are home, or what we call home. Somewhere in that notch on the far southwestern bit of Kentucky dirt looking for our own piece. We made it in time for Mom’s birthday and a seat on a church pew on Sunday morning. Mom handed me a Bible, the one she’s been using. The one my dad used.
There was a post-it note marking a page in handwriting that I could barely recognize. After his last stroke he had problems with his vision and his writing had changed. The note marks the page of the verse on my brother’s headstone.
“Blessed are the peacemakers for they shall be called sons of God.”
The passage on the post it note is the last one my dad read during a church service.
What a beautiful passage to remember him by. This year Dad would’ve been 69. I’m reminded how much he would miss the kids. I wonder what he would’ve been doing this week to help. I’m pretty sure a sidewalk or two would’ve been edged and my windshield would be clean. I wonder if he knows how much he is missed.
Before I get too sappy… pictures of his Bible are not the only ones that I caught from that hard pew. I looked to my right and my third grader was creating a cipher. I don’t even know if she knows what that is.