I brush the dirt away.
Dirt from the farm of his years.
Splattered on the stone from rain, while it sat on the patio.
While we waited for the right time.
Is there ever the right time?
Is there ever the desire to place a stone at your son’s grave?
Another gift given by the community.
Etched in love by a teammate apprenticing with a Master.
A teammate that knows the loss of a brother.
The analogy is not missed.
We are here on this earth; apprenticing with the Master.
We each have work to complete.
Lives to change.
Impacts to be made.
The Ancient Word our guide.
Prayer our compass.
Stepping forward in faith; our work.
And whatever you do, whether in word or deed, do it all in the name of the Lord Jesus,
giving thanks to God the Father through him.
Each day given to bring forth His kingdom.
Being molded and shaped.
The command given.
Whatever you do.
Go. . .and make disciples of all nations. . .
God didn’t mention when you have time.
If it’s the right time.
Wherever you are.
And we did.
We placed the stone.
A memorial to our son.
To the memory.
To his short life here.
A life guided by the Almighty’s Hand.
We prayed that his life here will continue to impact those around us.
I still don’t like it.
This plan is uncomfortable and abrasive.
So we will press on through.
We will look up, look forward.
We will, Go; wherever we are, and make disciples.
Living out our faith.
Walking the Talk.
Sharing the love of Jesus.
A life changed.