Stallion's song

"You've lived your whole life for us, Dad."

Those were the words of assurance from my mother to my grandfather this past weekend. I watched on, uncomfortably, as a man I always knew to be so tough and strong was held to a hospital bed by the lead weight in his lungs. Machines, tubes, wires-- medicine was doing jobs he'd been doing unassisted his entire life. Simple breath came as a chore; one painful chore after another. The morphine took the edge off, but I could see that cringe of pain in his face every time his heart monitor began to chirp. Tears flooded the room. After all, this was the man who survived so many attempts on his life from nature... then, to hear him mutter the battered words: "I give up." Tears were our only reaction.

It was too much... for all of us.

It was then that Father Bob cautiously waded into the room. The fear of death and the red-hot hand of pain must have been evident in Papa's eyes, because Father Bob knew exactly what to say. And God began to speak... not from a loop, not a recording. This was for him, and us.

"Tony, this is not giving up. This is not defeat. This is victory. When you see that light, you don't hesitate. You run for that light, Tony."

Saline fear gushed out from Papa's eyes. The works of his life, the people he lifted up in spite of himself, the world he changed forever-- they came to the front. Fear was not his salvation, and he was firmly convinced. God's vessel was ready to return to its harbor.

So, who will carry this man's legacy? When he finally departs, will he know that the love and power that comes from the perfect law that gives freedom... will he know that I, for the rest of my days, will keep it with me?