My Grandfather’s bible is a wonderful thing. A holy thing, of curled and gold edged pages. King James, and underlined. Leafed through and notated and well used. Well loved.
My Grandfather, a tall man, a gentle man, with a voice that was strong and real and devastating. He spoke truth in the tone of pure love. He spoke truth in a lilting and glorious tumble of biblical fire. I could feel the fire of his voice lick at my toes as he spoke, raise goosebumps on the back of my neck.
A simple ” I love you” was divine scripture.
When my Granddaddy died, I watched my mother’s heart tear. I watched my Grandmother swan dive, into a 17 year longing to be with her beloved Billy.
Yet, my connection to my Grandfather grew. I could see his wisdom in fall, when red leafed trees reminded me of his fiery speech. In winter, when cooler winds spoke of his prescience. He held my hand in dreams, and wiped my hair back from my face, calling me beautiful girl. He implored me to study his words.
My mother sent me his bible.
I ran my fingers over his notations, drinking in the absolute lack of any blank space on the tissue thin paper. His words, were everywhere. In the margins, in the paragraph breaks, on the front cover, the back cover. All of the dates and names of his grandchildren. Of me. The final page of Song of Solomon held a gift for me.
Just for me.
In his perfect script, in his quiet, poetic wisdom he wrote:
In traveling along this plane, in dealing with souls, in seeking to act, ask yourself these things..
do your actions speak truth
do your words calm and glorify?
what you seek to do, does it edify?
Does it edify? Three simple words. Dense, intense, laden words. Responsible words, words that are mindful of soul and of heart and of mind. Does it build, what you are seeking to do? Does it bolster or destroy? Does it lay brick or tear mortar?
From here, from this space, and into each new day. I seek to edify.