For my grandmother, Nina Ruth.
Sometimes honor is knowing what it is of you that lives on in me.
To recognize the life you lived and loved
To be aware of what lifted you up and brought you low
To know the struggles and perceive the heartaches
While crediting your spirit with tenacity
To honor is to see you as you were.
To give thought to what marked your days.
To look deep into the eyes of your life
And explore the heart of who God was in you.
To honor is to celebrate.
To know you loved the beauty of this masterpiece world.
The sustaining wings of the birds of the air
And the graceful elegance of the butterfly flutter
And the splendor of the flowers cultivated by your capable hand.
To know you found solace in the garden soil.
Not just momentary amusement
But a rooted spirituality declaring
That what you plant is what is grown,
What you nurture is what stands tall.
What you tend with your soul is what lives on.
To honor is to remember
And be forever bound
To the goodness of God
And the loveliness of His hand
That created the treasure of you.
And so we remember.
Because in knowing you
That the gift of life He breathed through you
Still breathes in the breath