We are grieving here in this house, the loss of a father, grandfather, father-in-law. Now both our fathers are going; yet, strange to say, the world keeps spinning. The clock keeps ticking. It feels unreal that life can keep going. And, to be clear, both our fathers would have wanted us to keep on, to make little fuss. My husband’s father was a man of deep and quiet faith. We never got to talk about it. I regret that. He was a man of few words and great reserve.
When our son was about 10 or so? And his cousins were younger, just littles as best I can recall? My father-in-law planted pumpkins in his garden. When the pumpkins appeared but before they were near ready to harvest, he carved each boy’s name into a pumpkin. As the pumpkin grew, the name grew too. He was clearly pleased to bestow each ripe pumpkin to each grandchild. It was like him, to plan out a gift that would take time and attention to nurture, and to not mind the bafflement of boys more used to gifts with batteries.
Let us keep nuturing our seeds of faith…. FTGOG!