What Love Really Means- JJ Heller
From the Birds that Sing, In the Tallest Trees.
To the Human Life, of you and me.
From the Desert Sands, to the place we stand.
He is God of All, He is Everything.
I’m giving my life to the only one who makes the Moon reflect the sun.
Every Starry Night, that was His design.
I’m giving my life to the only son, who was and is and yet to come
Let the praises ring, ‘cause he is everything
‘Cause he is everything
From the Autumn Leaves, that will ride the breeze
To the Faith it takes, to pray and sing
From the Painted sky, to my plank filled eye
He is God of all, He is everything
I’m giving my life to the only one who makes the Moon reflect the sun
On that Starry Night, He changed my life.
I’m giving it all to the only son who gave me hope when I had none.
So let the praises ring,
Ohhhh Let the Praises Ring
I’m giving my life to the only one who makes the Moon reflect the sun.
Every Starry Night, that was His design.
I’m giving my life to the only son, who was and is and yet to come
Let the Angels sing, that he is Heavenly
So let the Praises ring
‘Cause he everything
(i edited some repetitive lyrics out)
— Roger Ebert
My Grandpa (Grumpa) died November 16, 2010 4:05pm (PST)
He is one of the strongest people I know. Late August, Early September of 2009 my grandfather was given 3 months to live. His goal was to live long enough to spend Christmas with us. He did. Grumpa and Grandma were able to make the drive from Arizona and spend Christmas with us. They had to leave early because his health was rapidly declining and I woke up early to say goodbye- in more ways than one- before they drove back home. He continued to make small goals and lived through them all. In August of this year he wanted my mother and I to meet them in Vegas, to spend a few days together. I miss him.
Christmas 2009, Grumpa and his granddaughters.
This is a poem from a Peyton Podcast:
“I am standing upon the seashore.
A ship at my side spreads her white sails to the morning breeze
and starts for the blue ocean.
She is an object of beauty and strength.
I stand and watch her until at length she hangs
like a speck of white cloud just where the sea and sky
come to mingle with each other.
Then someone at my side
says: “There, she is 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 she is just as able to bear her load of living freight
to her destined port. Her diminished size is in me, not in her.
And just at the moment when someone at my side says, “There, she is gone!”
there are other eyes watching her coming,
and other voices ready to take up the glad shout:
“Here she comes!”
And that is dying.”
Last picture with grandpa. Las Vegas, Nevada. August 2010.
— Harvey MacKay
