Remembering is a gift. A precious gift that allows us to relive the joy of yesterday, cherish today, and yearn for a more perfect tomorrow. I remember a woman who loved pink. A woman who loved her husband, family and friends deeply. A woman whose front door - painted pink - was never locked. She lived hospitality, and her freezer always had enough strawberry and toasted almond ice cream for each person to have a cone. She loved dolls. She took pictures - lots of pictures - of her family and friends. She made those pictures into cards, which she sent to them for Christmas, Valentine's Day, Easter, their birthdays, or just because. She loved flowers, pink things, delicate and beautiful things, but most of all she loved her God. "Grandma" Patterson died on Sunday morning, was buried on Thursday, and her memorial service is Saturday. I remember a woman who taught me how to make coconut-oatmeal cookies, as well as the art of offering them as refreshments to men whose hands were so grimy from working that there was no skin visible. She and her husband were married for 59 1/2 years, glorious years that bear testimony to a gracious God and a loving humility.
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Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not take them bothAnd be one traveler, long I stoodAnd looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth;//Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim,
Because it was grassy and wanted wear;
Though as for that the passing thereHad worn them really about the same,//
And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way,I doubted if I should ever come back.//I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:Two roads diverged in a wood, and I -
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made the difference.
"These little moments ... matter, for they are where we live every day."
- Paul David Tripp