juvenile big people

Well, as I said in my comment on Tim's post, the boys' "Grampy" died on Saturday. He had cancer and at 83, it was stronger than he was. He went to the hospice hospital on Thursday evening and died at 8:10 Saturday evening. I know the exact time, because I was with him. Gran was so tired, and felt comfortable going home because she knew he would not be alone. I sang to him for about 30 minutes, then quietly sat in the chair in the corner. In about 30 minutes, he was gone. The part I want to share is this. When the Lannings arrived at the hospice center at about 4:00, we went in his room and all said a sweet word to Grampy, who was by then very quiet with his eyes closed. Aaron had insisted on bringing his new bible, and without hesitation, he knelt down beside Grampy's bed and read (his choice) Psalm 100, the last two verses of Revelation, and a passage in Micah (What does the Lord require of you...?) that we had read earlier. When he was finished, Will stood at his other side and prayed the most amazing prayer, thanking God for Grampy's life and for the comfort in knowing that "You will be right here to receive his spirit." Who needs a preacher? (Tim, this reminds me so much of the recent chapter in Alan Hirsch's book chiding the church for isolating its ministers-in-training in seminaries and away from a congregation. All that book-learning couldn't have improved on the innocent trust and compassion of these two little fellers as they ministered to their Grampy.) The best part of being 8 and 10 year old boys is that as soon as they finished giving their version of "the last rites," they went out into the lobby and giggled at SpongeBob.