The hallowed eyes of death sit staring back at me. What has happened to woman I knew? Has she been put out to pasture?  Is time now her enemy? The hands that once held babies, and clutched her Bible have now been wrinkled by the sands of time. When prompted, she recalls her children’s names, and she sometimes remembers me to. She seldom knows what she did five minutes ago, but she knows the day she met Jesus. She is a highly decorated soldier in the Army of God, and He alone knows the moment of her promotion into the eternal ranks. My life has been blessed, as I have had the privilege to watch hers unfold. Her meekness has allowed me to see through the mass of confusion called life. I am not her son, but she took me into her family, when I married her daughter. I’ve sat at her table, and I’ve stood at her beside. I was there when she lost her husband of sixty-seven years. I have been the recipient of her love, and I have shared the sorrow of her tears. When God calls her home, I know my heart will be saddened, but I will always rejoice in knowing that she is where she has always wanted to be, home with Jesus. In the same way that she has beautified this world, she will make a beautiful angel.