Grandpa

It has been a wish of mine for my grandpa to hold my baby in his arms and pray.

I love when my grandpa prays. It's like heaven bends down. His faith shines strong and mine grows.

Now he's with Jesus. No need for prayers.

I lament not hearing his spoken prayers over my life and those that would maybe belong to me. But then I was reminded that those prayers were already spoken. My grandpa prayed in faith. My grandpa prayed for me by name and and for my children, because God already knows their names (or if they'll ever even be).

What hope I have because of faith. Because of heaven. Because of prayers of years past to be fulfilled in years to come.

My heart finds comfort.

I'm sure that Jesus seated my grandpa right next to the heroes of old. Pretty sure he couldn't grow a beard, and he may not have slain a giant or seen walls fall, but my grandpa lived by faith and went to battle every single day on his knees.

Grandpa had the kind of faith that slays sin. The kind of faith that watches walls of bitterness crumble. The kind of faith that carries a man through life and straight into the presence of God.

xoxo, Grandpa, I miss you, but not forever.