Albert Chapman, the patriarch of a large extended family, died early this morning. He left behind a wife of 51 years, nine daughters, loyal son-in-laws, and numerous grandchildren and great grands. Visiting with the family, there were still a few tears being shed. Such is to be expected in times of grief. All that ever knew this hard working, God fearing, kind hearted man were touched by his loss.
After having prayer with the family, something odd was brewing in the backyard. In defiance to their sorrows (and encouraged by a little friendly “smack” talking) the son-in-laws challenged the grandchildren to a series of horse shoe games. With the seriousness of each pitch, it was like a rite of passage between the generations. This was not exactly what one would expect to see at a time of bereavement.
As I was driving home, Mr. Chapman appeared in my mind speaking to everyone in the back yard. “There ain’t no use for y’all crying over me. I’m gone now and I’m feeling pretty good. Y’all go play horseshoes or something.” They were only doing what “Pop’s” told them to do.