The reason for my hope

My Grandaddy Cagle has always had the softest place in my heart. He's a jokester. A musician. He wasn't afraid to show his undying affection for my grandmother. I love his smell (like day old laundry).  I can remember one weekend he visited when I was a teenager - I have never been a very affectionate person, but that weekend I just needed to be held. I curled up in the crook of his arm as a crazy teenager and he just held me on the couch. Sitting squeezed up next to him. And didn't let go until I did...

This Easter weekend I got some time alone. Matty let me head to Asheville to run errands and spend some time with my grandparents. I can't help but think about heaven when I look at my granddaddy. It's close. 

And without the gift of Easter. The sacrifice of Gods son. The death and ressurection of my Savior. The death and ressurection of my grandaddys Savior...  there would be no hope. The path of salvation- the path to heaven, to eternal life in Gods presence. Grandaddy will be there. 

I imagine he will be met with a banjo. That God has a special mansion set up on music row- just for the musicians who will praise Him through song. Eternally playing songs of hallelujah. Grandads broken fingers will be whole and play again. 

I am thankful. That in my brokeness. My sinfulness.  He forgives me. God prepares a place for all of us who believe.  The battle has been won. 

And soon, Ken Cagle, will be whole again.