In the National Gallery, I stumbled across the portrait named "The Peaceable Kingdom." This painting hung over my grandpa's dining room table in Pendell, Pennsylvania. As a little girl I would muse over this painting, wanting to step inside and experience the world portayed here: a world where animals and people peacefully coexist, but perhaps more tellingly, a world where people and other people peacefully coexist.
I think God led us to this portrait unexpectedly, so that we would remember George not only in death, but in life. Easter is a time of reflection. It is the reflection of one man's death, yes, but it is the remembrance of how He conquered death in order to achieve eternal vitality for those who deserved nothing but punishment and shame. Because of the promise of resurrection, we needn't fear death, even when it comes for those we love; even when it, one day, comes for us. While the sting lingers, even after time heals, we can say, O, death, where is thy victory? It cannot destroy us.
I remember my grandpa.
I remember him in the white tee shirt, stretching back in a worn blue recliner. How I loved to jump in that recliner, lean back, stretch my feet out; They did not reach.
I remember my grandpa.
He took us to Denny’s
Listened to Polka music
And woke up at 5am to the chatter of yellow birds outside his window. He may not have known me,
But I thought I knew him
When he wore his blue baseball cap
And told me he liked me
Because I liked to eat. A lot.
I remember Pop Pop
I see him
Strong, resilient
He does not lie there
Under the pale white sheets
Tubes, wires, encircling his body two legs missing
Pop Pop is still driving the Buick
On top of Jericho Mountain
Singing Johnny Cash songs
And counting his money
At the old dining room table
With Paradise
Hovering above his head.
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