David Nevue played his piano rendition of "Amazing Grace" as I hung up the phone with my aging grandma. She mentioned in passing that is is hard for a woman to have all her grandchildren off. She spoke of our physical absence, but as much she mourns the emotional presence that simply does not exist in many of my cousins. My heart hurts for this sweet woman who has struggled so to do what she knows to be best. She quickly transitioned to the Hoops' crops, the third cuttings of hay, how it dropped to 44 the other night, and how a mama bear and her cub ran in front of their car the other night. "The cub crossed right over and ran straight up the tree!" She gulped with glee and went on to speak of her latest canned pears, peaches, applesauce, and carrots to freeze. The sweet thing is 84, has osteoporosis and has known sorrow. Her slight frame tells a story her lips can't pronounce and I love her so much this night! Oh how dreadful is the curse of death and the pronouncement of the end of this time, and how I long for unbroken life. I always revert to sweet Psalm 90 and the span of life as a sigh, a short tale, or a watch in the night and am reminded of how quickly that vibrant morning grass withers in the noonday sun. I want to hold onto everything, and that very grip that keeps love must loose itself to let it to pass. I am sorry, but I hate this truth, and if it weren't for my Lord conquering death I'd find all too many cases for despair. He is a hope -- the fullest spanse and greatest fulfillment of any and everything we've ever desired, and it is only, and always fitting to look unto Him. Consider Jesus.