When the Saints Go Marching In

Yesterday, we observed All Saints' Day at St. John's in Waynesboro. (While All Saints' Day was technically this past Wednesday, we observed it during Sunday service.) 
For those unfamiliar with this occasion, it is a time to remember those "official" Saints (St. Paul, St. Matthew, St. Luke, etc.). Just as important, however, it is a time to remember those "unofficial" saints who have made a great spiritual impact upon our lives and those of others.
Even though I have observed All Saints' Day for several years, it really has never had a profound meaning. That all changed yesterday.
Our dear interim rector and priest, Denise Guinta, invited us to join in a special remembrance of those dear saints who have passed into the next life. As we each walked forward toward the altar for communion, we lit a candle to remember a special "saint" in our lives. I lit two - one for my Granddad, Howard Seay, and one for my Grandma, Katherine Seay. I had been thinking about them during most of the service... how they had helped me grow as a person... and how they had helped me grow as a child of God. 
I was very close with both Granddad and Grandma Seay. He passed away in December 2000, and she passed away on New Year's Eve 2010. 
For me, they shall never die. I keep them alive with all of the wonderful memories, conversations, and special moments that we shared over the years. 
From Granddad, I was blessed with the gift of hearing those songs of the faith from an early age as he played and sang at the Wurlitzer console organ. From Grandma, I learned what it meant to forgive even when those around you continue to do you wrong. 
There are a lot of questions that I wish I could ask them; yet, I must rely on what I did learn from them many years in the past.
I'll close with these words...
At Grandma Seay's memorial, the Scripture readings were taken from her personal study Bible. It was an old, beaten, and battered King James Version. She had parsed through those pages hundreds of times. Within the margins of each page, you could read her writings beside many of the verses. 
As the pastor read from her Bible, he lifted it up and said, "This, my friends, is the Bible of a saint."
After the service, my Aunt Esther came to the organ and played the song that Grandma had requested be performed as her casket was rolled out.
"Oh, Lord, I want to be in that number when the saints go marching in!"
Today, and many days, I remember these two saints from my life. I can't think of where I'd be without their prayers and guidance during my childhood. Today, I am most thankful for those things.

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