Celebration of Life

My grandpa
was a willow tree
in full bloom,
leaves bright,
nurturing, healthy, and growing.
He willow wept branches of
advice,love, friendship, and shelter:
to all those who sought
guidance and delight
beneath his weathered years of experience
that grew lusher and taller with the passage of time--
to all those who found relief and safety
against his sturdy trunk
hosting hefty, bronze skin.

Where is my shelter?
Where is my trunk?
His bronze skin has faded,
and his bark is flaking--
piece by piece--
and new travelers pass him by
never knowing what a beauty this tree was
--this willow in full bloom of spring--
never understanding what they've missed.
But we know.
We--his children, his grandchildren, his wife--
we look beyond his flaking bark,
his fragile trunk,
his bare branches that stifle
the leaves that once waved in the breeze
but are now dormant in this winter.
And while the days feel cold,
and the winter drags on,
we remember, and we know

that after the winter
--every winter--
God gives us spring,
and the leaves blossom again
on what seemed like a dead tree,
and the willow comes back to life
as the Son shines down His rays,
and the willow
--my grandpa--
stands sturdy and stable again
full of love
for all eternity.

"'Look at those trees outside our window, Betsy. If you never saw spring before, you would lose hope, you would chop them all down, believing they're dead. But spring will come again. They will blossom again and bear fruit. I'm in the winter of my life, and you're looking at my body and seeing it like those trees, without hope. But in Christ, new life will come. This isn't the end. You and I will live for all eternity." Excerpt from _Hidden Places_ by Lynn Austin