A day of Thanks, a day of Family
Nov. 27th, 2008 09:43 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
theoldwolfBurp!
What a lovely day. We assembled at my eldest son's home for dinner - myself, my two sons (Daughter is out of town), son's wife and kids, and my mother. The fare was sumptuous:
Watching Mum interact with her two great-grandbabies was a delight. Was able to get a very nice four generation shot:
I love family history - I'm a genealogy nut - so pictures like this are priceless treasure to pass to future generations.
30 years ago the scene looked like this, when my son was 1 month old (Mogg, I was a handsome devil. Whatever happened there?)
:
My own grandmother, shown at left, passed away a month after this picture was taken - what a blessing it was for her to be able to meet and hold her great-grandson.
The river of time flows on... we cannot turn it back. The older I grow, the more I realize I have no desire to do so. The best is always yet to come.
In that spirit, I offer you a delightful story I once heard - may it warm your heart as it did mine.
The Fork
There was a woman who had been diagnosed with cancer and had been given 3 months to live. Her physician advised her to set her affairs in order, so she contacted her pastor and had him come to her house to discuss certain aspects of her final wishes. She told him which songs she wanted sung at the service, what scriptures she would like read, and what she wanted to be wearing. The woman also told her pastor that she wanted to be buried with her favorite Bible. Everything was in order and the pastor was preparing to leave when the woman suddenly remembered something very important to her.
"There's one more thing," she said excitedly. "What's that?" came the pastor's reply. "This is very important," the woman continued. "I want to be buried with a fork in my right hand."
The pastor stood looking at the woman not knowing quite what to say. "That shocks you, doesn't it?" the woman asked. "Well to be honest, I'm puzzled by the request," said the pastor.
The woman explained. "In all my years of attending church socials and functions where food was involved (and let's be honest, food is an important part of any church event; spiritual or otherwise); my favorite part was when whoever was clearing away the dishes of the main course would lean over and say 'you can keep your fork.' It was my favorite part because I knew that something better was coming. When they told me to keep my fork, I knew that something great was about to be given to me. It wasn't Jell O or pudding. It was cake or pie. Something with substance. So I just want people to see me there in that casket with a fork in my hand and I want them to wonder 'What's with the fork?' Then I want you to tell them: 'Something better is coming, so keep your fork too.'" The pastor's eyes were welled up with tears of joy as he hugged the woman goodbye. He knew this would be one of the last times he would see her before her death. But he also knew that the woman had a better grasp of heaven than he did. She knew that something better was coming. At the funeral people were walking by the woman's casket and they saw the pretty dress she was wearing, and her favorite Bible, and the fork placed in her right hand. Over and over the pastor heard the question "What's with the fork?"
And over and over he smiled. During his message, the pastor told the people of the conversation he had with the woman shortly before she died. He also told them about the fork and about what it symbolized to her. The pastor told the people how he could not stop thinking about the fork and told them that they probably would not be able to stop thinking about it either. He was right. So the next time you reach down for your fork, let it remind you, oh so gently, that there is something better coming.
Keep your fork. The best is yet to come.
What a lovely day. We assembled at my eldest son's home for dinner - myself, my two sons (Daughter is out of town), son's wife and kids, and my mother. The fare was sumptuous:
Watching Mum interact with her two great-grandbabies was a delight. Was able to get a very nice four generation shot:
I love family history - I'm a genealogy nut - so pictures like this are priceless treasure to pass to future generations.
30 years ago the scene looked like this, when my son was 1 month old (Mogg, I was a handsome devil. Whatever happened there?)
:My own grandmother, shown at left, passed away a month after this picture was taken - what a blessing it was for her to be able to meet and hold her great-grandson.
The river of time flows on... we cannot turn it back. The older I grow, the more I realize I have no desire to do so. The best is always yet to come.
In that spirit, I offer you a delightful story I once heard - may it warm your heart as it did mine.
The Fork
There was a woman who had been diagnosed with cancer and had been given 3 months to live. Her physician advised her to set her affairs in order, so she contacted her pastor and had him come to her house to discuss certain aspects of her final wishes. She told him which songs she wanted sung at the service, what scriptures she would like read, and what she wanted to be wearing. The woman also told her pastor that she wanted to be buried with her favorite Bible. Everything was in order and the pastor was preparing to leave when the woman suddenly remembered something very important to her.
"There's one more thing," she said excitedly. "What's that?" came the pastor's reply. "This is very important," the woman continued. "I want to be buried with a fork in my right hand."
The pastor stood looking at the woman not knowing quite what to say. "That shocks you, doesn't it?" the woman asked. "Well to be honest, I'm puzzled by the request," said the pastor.
The woman explained. "In all my years of attending church socials and functions where food was involved (and let's be honest, food is an important part of any church event; spiritual or otherwise); my favorite part was when whoever was clearing away the dishes of the main course would lean over and say 'you can keep your fork.' It was my favorite part because I knew that something better was coming. When they told me to keep my fork, I knew that something great was about to be given to me. It wasn't Jell O or pudding. It was cake or pie. Something with substance. So I just want people to see me there in that casket with a fork in my hand and I want them to wonder 'What's with the fork?' Then I want you to tell them: 'Something better is coming, so keep your fork too.'" The pastor's eyes were welled up with tears of joy as he hugged the woman goodbye. He knew this would be one of the last times he would see her before her death. But he also knew that the woman had a better grasp of heaven than he did. She knew that something better was coming. At the funeral people were walking by the woman's casket and they saw the pretty dress she was wearing, and her favorite Bible, and the fork placed in her right hand. Over and over the pastor heard the question "What's with the fork?"
And over and over he smiled. During his message, the pastor told the people of the conversation he had with the woman shortly before she died. He also told them about the fork and about what it symbolized to her. The pastor told the people how he could not stop thinking about the fork and told them that they probably would not be able to stop thinking about it either. He was right. So the next time you reach down for your fork, let it remind you, oh so gently, that there is something better coming.
Keep your fork. The best is yet to come.
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no subject
Date: 2008-11-28 05:04 am (UTC)-=TK
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Date: 2008-11-28 05:07 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-11-28 06:54 am (UTC)You may have aged, but it appears to have been gracefully...
Actually, you look like what a granddad really should look like, right?
no subject
Date: 2008-11-28 07:22 am (UTC)Thanks!
no subject
Date: 2008-11-28 07:29 am (UTC)Nothing like a big family dinner.
no subject
Date: 2008-11-28 08:29 am (UTC)The night before the wedding, James had picked up his tux and it was at the hotel, I was heading across the road to spend the night at my Mother's place (yes silly traditionalists we), just before I left I slipped a fork into the inside breast pocket of his tuxedo...
no subject
Date: 2008-11-28 06:16 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-11-28 04:30 pm (UTC)Tine marches on.....
no subject
Date: 2008-11-28 06:23 pm (UTC)