The first Thursday of the month rolls around, meaning it’s time for my band of Spiritual Journey writers to gather and share. The theme for May, offered by Chris Margocs, is beginnings and endings. As Chris points out, May is always a major time of transition for those of us who are teachers; we are in the throes of wrapping up another school year.

The month also happens to hold some significant beginnings and endings for me.

I was born in May.

My grandfather died in May.

Chris referenced Isaiah 43:18-19 in her invitation: Remember not the former things, nor consider the things of old. Behold, I am doing a new thing; now it springs forth, do you not perceive it? I will make a way in the wilderness and rivers in the desert.

What God is saying to his exiled people here, through the prophet Isaiah, is to not live in the past but to recognize his miraculous provision and his ongoing exodus-like deliverance. It is all about reliance on him for the journey… says one of my study notes: “Where there is no clear path forward, God creates one.”

It could summarize my life.

I often write of the past, of time spent with my grandparents. I do so from a place of profound gratitude. They were the joy of my childhood. They lived to be in their nineties and got to see me grown with children of my own. I know that God is faithful to those who love him, from one generation to the next (Deuteronomy 7:9; Psalm 119:90; Psalm 103:17). The legacy of faith is priceless to me. It has framed and defined my entire existence. It is all God’s doing. It is the greatest thing I have to pass down.

But today I will not write of the past.

Today I consider the “new thing” springing forth.

A different granddaughter, a different grandfather…a different path.

*******

One afternoon
while I am at work
our son stops by the house
to see his dad

He brings our granddaughter
who asks Grandpa
if she can watch Bluey
and can she have
a popsicle, please

Grandpa (as always) says
Yes
of course
my little angel

Perched on the couch
legs swinging
beneath the TV tray
mouth stained red and blue
she pulls out the popsicle
long enough to whisper
to Grandpa:

I want
to stay here
forever

He says
I know, honey
I want you to

Then she says

Grandpa—
I don’t want
to die

And he tells her

Honey, you don’t
have to worry
about that.
Jesus
will take care
of you

(the same thing
his mother told him
when he was twelve,
after his daddy died)

Despite thirty-eight years
in the ministry
officiating hundreds
of funerals

when he tells me
what our granddaughter said
he breaks
into uncontrolled sobs

She is only four

She does not know
how damaged
his heart is—

stented, patched,
burned, stitched
more than once
by medicine
and mercy

And although he often quips
about living on borrowed time
and being a member of
the Lazarus Club
I watch him pausing
to catch his breath

He does not mind
the going
whenever Jesus
should come for him

but he cannot bear
the thought
of hers

my little angel

What can I do
except hold them close

every chance I get
for as long
as I can

(thank you, Lord,
for every day
for every minute

and Your every
promise.

Amen.)