Remember your word to your servant. . .

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by which you give me hope.
This is my comfort in sorrow
that your promise gives me life.

(Psalm 119:49-50, from daytime prayer)

I think of my Grandfather, head bowed over his much used Bible after the death of my mother. I think of my Grandmother who could not see when my Grandfather had passed away, but who listened again and again to the word of God and, who despite all predictions, did not follow him quickly to the grave, though she was by far the more frail of the two. Rather, she lived on in love with God and in love with Life for every day of her own.

I think of how much His word meant to them at every moment of their lives. They lived the word in ways I cannot begin to do--constant prayer, constant immersion, a unity I struggle for and seem to achieve for seconds at a time was theirs in a seemingly unbroken stream--the river that passes by the temple in the New Jerusalem. It transformed their lives and now transforms my own in the memory of it and in the desire for it. Reverence--lives of reverence and quiet adoration--lives not meant to be examples, but lives which became examples any way.

We all know people like this people who lived a life of "Remember your word to your servant by which you gave me hope." May I become one of them and may those of you who wish this also become one of them. It helps us to understand the concept of Boddhisatvas--the enlightened ones who nevertheless remained behind to assist humanity in finding the Light.

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I think you are so rich to have these relatives who lived and breathed the Scriptures!

May you live and breathe them to, and your children after you.



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This page contains a single entry by Steven Riddle published on January 16, 2007 2:41 PM.

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