So the corn shucking got me going. Damn, I miss him.
June 18th is his birthday. That day I went to Gettysburg and met Mike’s best friend Rich at the spot on Little Round Top where we had scattered Mike’s ashes in late April. I still have a hard time believing that such a strong man has been reduced to ashes that surely floated away in the rainstorm that came through later that night after we threw him to the wind.
But when I am despondent over his loss and pray to God for mercy on my grieving heart, I am reminded of God’s incredible mercy. Mike professed faith just weeks before he died. When I wonder if God ever listens to prayer, if He ever works miracles, all I have to do is to remember the day Mike was baptized. He was dying but he said it was the best day of his life. The best day of his life. Even better than having corn on the cob on the 4th of July. With yellow plastic corn holders.