I write this in full appreciation of you, my English teacher, who instilled in me at an early age how to spell, pronounce, read, and structure a sentence. Now you are hearing the fruits of your labor.
I just wanted to voice a few things that I will remember about you, and the fingerprints you left.
Your love for the Lord was pure, it was full, and overflowing. I never knew someone who was so childlike, no matter their age. It was clear that your one desire was to serve and love the Lord.
You were quirky. I will always remember your silly habits, your sense of humor. You let yourself enjoy life in it’s simplest, most ordinary state.
You were boy crazy, Grandma…your love for your blue-eyed boy seeped from you, oozing from your being—you could not contain your love for him.
Grandma, I want you to know that even though you praised blue eyes so much, I have never seen dark brown eyes shine with so much brightness, so much color and life, in any other person. Your eyes were brighter than any color out there.
Thank you for not containing your love for the Lord. Thank you for not containing your love for your husband, your family, your grand-kids. Thank you for not containing your love for life, letting it spill out into the lives of others. I know what pure love is because of you.
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