Calling Out the Saints

A tradition in our church has had me thinking for the last few weeks.

On a particular Sunday of the month of November, our church takes a few moments to remember those who have left us here on earth to spend their eternity in Heaven. The names are read aloud, while candles are lit for each name mentioned. Faces flash on an overhead screen, a last look (for many of us)on the faces of Saints who have gone before us.

After the names are read and candles are lit, music soothes raw emotions as a time to remember is allowed to those of us in the pews. We are invited to call out the names of people whom we have lost in our lives, giving tribute, one more time, to the loved ones those around us may not have ever met, but that we each know as a missing piece in our family puzzle since their passing.

As the music played, my heart immediately remembered Pop. He was not my Pop, or Mike's Pop. He was someone we had just met this summer while visiting our kids in New Jersey. He was a kind, gentle man, who we waved at while he mowed the lawn, and met briefly as we shook his hand. We knew him more as the head of a family who had welcomed our children into their fold, since our family was much to far away to be with them day to day. He was spoken of highly by our son, who also has great regard for Pop's son, Dan. He was the top of a chain that seemed to speak wonderful words of a loving God, down to the lives who must now live without their beloved father on this earth. His passing was within days of our church ceremony, and his name and legacy was fresh in our hearts.

Just before the music ended in this service of remembrance, my heart travelled back to the days of loss of my own grandma Thelma this year. I have written of her life, and the legacy she left to us in her passing. She will never be forgotten, and I spoke her name aloud into the silence of the church, reverently giving appreciation to a loving, saving God, whom she now walks with on the streets of gold.

As the service moved on, I was simply reminded in the calling out of these names, Pop and Grandma, just how small our world on earth really is. Although my grandma and Pop would probably have never met on earth, they now rejoice together in Heaven, and they are connected by a thread that makes perfect sense to me now. My son, Scotty, was loved and prayed for by both of these Saints of God, although their earthly lives were over 700 miles apart.

I don't believe any of this was accidental in the broad scheme of life in a Walk of Faith. I was grateful to honor two wonderful saints who have now passed into eternity, and I wonder now, just who am I praying for or connected to today, that will only be made know when I enter those pearly gates when my name is called into eternity.

I miss you, Grandma. I know Pop's family is missing him too.

Small world. Tremendously HUGE God!