a simple memorial

“Do not fret because of those who are evil or be envious of those who do wrong:
For like the grass they will soon wither, like green plants they will soon die away.”                         Psalm 37:1-2

In all honesty, it is not only evil men who wither away like grass in a field.  We are all subject to the same fate.  The difference is that the evil man lives in the narcissistic illusion that he will live forever, conquer any obstacle, always be the smartest, funniest, most powerful person in the room or on the planet.  He feels that he is invincible, above the normal natural laws or social order.  And he is doomed to disappointment. 

In contrast, the good man is humble enough to know that despite his achievements, he will also fade like the green plants.  But this is not hopeless to him, because he is fully invested in the welfare of others, not just in his own.  And so, his memory will live on in those whom he has blessed.

One such man was Sid McKnight.  Sid was raised with a measure of privilege and accomplishment.  He was a periodontist and a jazz musician, a boater and conservationist.  And he was a philanthropist of the highest order, because he not only gave to charitable causes, but he inspired others to give and made pathways for that to happen. And Sid may have been one of the jolliest people I know, always ready with a laugh and a good word.  Sid never met a whoopy cushion he didn’t like. Even in his last declining years, as his physical world narrowed his joy expanded. 

In September, on our drive home from Michigan, Dave and I visited Prairie Meadows Farm, Sid’s pride and joy which he and his wife Carole lovingly dreamed into existence.  I had visited them before, when Sid was still alive. But I wanted Dave to experience this serene place of virgin prairie grassland.  Carole greeted us and made us feel right at home.  She sent us out into the field in front of the house to visit a humble memorial to her beloved Sid….simple stones in the shape of a Celtic cross, lying in the browning grass that would soon winter wither.  A hushed and holy place to remember. 

Yes, it is not only evil men who wither away like grass in a field.  But “precious in the sight of the Lord is the death of his saints.” (Psalm 116:15)  Because the good leave behind a legacy of love which is ever green.

Love, Liz