not much to say.

I have a lot to say but nothing at all. So I'll leave the post with this poem printed in the bulliten at my father's memorial service.

In the bulb there is a flower;

In the seed, an apple tree;

In cocoons, a hidden promise:

Butterflies will soon be free!

In the cold and snow of winter;

There's a spring that waits to be,

Unrevealed until its season,

Something God alone can see.

There's a song in every silence,

Seeking word and melody;

There's a dawn in every darkness,

Bringing hope to you and me.

From the past will come the future;

What it holds, a mystery,

Unrevealed until its season,

Something God alone can see.

In our end is our beginning;

In our time, infinity.

In our doubt, there is believing;

In our life, eternity.

In our death, a resurrection;

At the last, a victory

Unrevealed until its season,

Something God alone can see.

Rest in peace, Adella. Rest in peace.