Memories

Great is thy faithfulness, O God my Father;
there is no shadow of turning with thee;
thou changest not, thy compassions, they fail not;
as thou has been thou forever wilt be.

He sat at the head of the table, his back to the window.  He always had a piece of bread in one hand, no matter what the meal.  The bread, like him, was a constant.  You couldn't have a meal at the Farm without that hand holding bread.

Summer and winter and springtime and harvest;
sun, moon and stars in their courses above
join with all nature in manifold witness
to thy great faithfulness, mercy, and love.

He had blue coveralls and big boots and a John Deere hat.  They always smelled of dirt and pig and cow and grass.  When we were little, the most exciting thing was getting to ride in his big, red truck out to Lake Two Points.  I remember riding along in the tractor, his big hands over mine, helping me drive.
Pardon for sin and a peace that endureth, 
thy own dear presence to cheer and to guide,
strength for today and bright hope for tomorrow--
blessings all mine, with the thousand beside!

He whistled constantly - those great old hymns of the faith.   He belted those same hymns at church. He'd look out over the cows and say "the cattle on a thousand hills are mine" - a quote from Psalm 50. He put on a tie for church, his hair slicked back, his shoes polished.

Great is thy faithfulness!
Great is thy faithfulness!
Morning by morning new mercies I see;
all I have needed thy hand hath provided.
Great is thy faithfulness, Lord, unto me!

There's a picture of my grandparents from their wedding.  Grandma is ravishing in her dress, and her hand is poised with the knife, ready to cut the cake.  She's looking at the cake.  Grandpa's looking at her.

I love you Grandpa.