The golden evening brightens in the west; soon, soon to faithful warrior cometh rest; sweet is the calm of paradise the blest. – For All the Saints Who from Their Labors Rest, William Walsham How
In my experience, growing up Catholic, but worshiping now as a Methodist, I noticed that the Methodists tend to sing all the verses of a given hymn. At first, this seemed a bit much. It gets harder to carry a decent tune when you don’t really know the words.
But there is beauty in those seldom-sung stanzas. Some of the last words my Dad spoke were about wanting rest, and he was such a faithful warrior. We held his hand. We prayed for his sweet calm, which came as morning brightened. I will never forget those moments.
This is Dad’s tree, well, at least to our family. Overlooking a lake in northern Michigan with a bench ready-made for reflecting, these shady branches have allowed for quiet moments in one of his favorite places. I like to think he is saving our spot on the bench.
Grief, Reflected 