is the death of his saints."
Psalm 116:15
Edna Halim was a saintly old woman. She
sat humped over in a wheelchair the many
year she lived in a nursing home. Edna and
I were pen pals those years. Her letters not
only overflowed with smile and joyful obser-
vations about nurses and friends, but her
envelopeds would spill over with godpel
tracts, crocheted bookmarkers, and cpies
of poems and hymns. Edna was my
inspiration.
I just received word that Edna passed away,
All at once I feel sadness and joy, perhaps
this poem explain why.
I am standing upon the seashore. A ship at
my side spreads, her white sails to the morning
breeze and starts fir the blue ocean. She is an
objectt of beauty and strenght, and I stand and
watch her until at at lenght she hangs like a speck
of white cloud just where the sea and dky come
down to mingle with each other. Then someone
at my side says: "There! She's gone."
Gone where? Gone from my sight that is all.
She is just as large in mast and hull and spar
as she was when she left my side, and just as
able to bear her load of living freight to the place
of destination. Her diminished size is in me,
not in her; and just at the moment when someone
at my side say's " there! She's gone," there are
other eyes watching her coming, and other
voices ready to take up the glad shout, "There
:she comes!" And that is Dying!
Author Unknown
The lenght of our days is in Your hands, O Lord.
What counts, thought, is not how long we live
but we spend those days. Gives us wisdom to
Know how short, how fleeting life really is.
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