We go our own way, travel our own journeys. We set our face into the wind, our shoulders for the heavy load and press onward. Surpassing summits of mountains before us, we feel the sun in our face, the wind at our backs and enjoy an easier walk back down if only for a while.
My mother-in-law spent eighty-three wonderful years climbing mountains. Reaching the highest peak, she felt the SON on her face, the wind at her back, spread new angel wings and flew.
Her husband of sixty-five years assisted at a funeral home, caring for the hurting in their darkest days, treating each as family with gentleness and respect. It takes a special kind of heart to love so much in the face of tragedy. Now as it is one of his own, the journey has prepared him to approach this day with strength and grace (as if you could ever be prepared).
My own journey has taken other roads, and I absorb such situations differently. I am just trying to stay close, hold on tightly, and celebrate by playing her favorite songs; an honor I do not take lightly.
We travel leaving behind footsteps, some on solid ground, others on shifting sand or knee deep in the mud. As we press on, we fail to see those holding on to our coattails, needing a little pull or the occasional piggy-back ride. Arleen left footsteps of a life well lived and hearts truly loved in her wake. Lessons for us all.
Face your journey with love and faith, stay close and hold on tight, pray for strength and guidance for you may never know who needs footsteps to follow.
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