Just Be

I have been longing to write this all day.  My blessed grandmother, at the beautiful age of 96, went to be with Jesus last night.  My mind floods with her memories... her and Grandpa's as they were in love, inseparable, and full of life.  My childhood is a weave of their giving and laughing and rebuking and spurring.  I vividly remember going to the nursing home that they owned and having big wheel races, doing gymnastics, singing Christmas carols, and being forced to kiss Great Grandma's cheek and it didn't matter that I was queasy at the thin, wrinkly skin or the odd smell in the room.  We were to honor and cherish and love, beyond appearances and comfort.  At the age of ten, eleven, and twelve, I got to have slumber parties  in her basement.  They had a full basement with a kitchen and a shuffle board in the tile floor.  We were never allowed in the World Relief room, which was also in the basement, where Grandpa and Grandma were forever ...

Ah. Another birthday.  Another reflection. Another spurring for something more, something greater, something deeper that registers who I am and where I'm going. Oh, that we might grow, might change, might become something different for humans' sake.  Stagnancy begets apathy, generating unproductive contentedness. Being stagnant is death.  Moments still tick, but days fly with no accounting of life.  Make moments count. Count your moments . They establish days, numbers in time that stand firm, solidifying existence and personality and character.  I don't want to be sixty and still struggle with insecurities.  I want my securities to be met, head on, with grace.  Challenged and combated.  Let them die with humbleness when I'm still 40.  I don't want my judgments clouding my hope of people.  Let judgments fall away, leaving only wonder and intrigue.  I especially don't want my scaredy cat self dictating my movement, now or in 20 y...