O Lemuel
I can vividly see the day in the grape arbor chapel daddy constructed in his backyard, where mornings he’d sit and meditate, often upon a sermon he was to deliver that Sunday. I do not know what he told Landon that morning, I was out of earshot and did not want to intrude upon the conversation.
It’s now going on ten years since daddy went to Orange Hill, ten years since hearing any word from Landon. Father’s Day is one of those days of hope, that we will get the call, the card, the message upon the messenger, but we kind of know, like daddy resting with mamma at the cemetery, some things await the resurrection day.
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