A Time Under The Heavens

The song was written by an old man simply known as 'Pop' and I listened to the words while driving home.
"There is no-one like my Jesus, he is all in all to me, there is no-one like my Jesus...."

Tears escaped the prison storage of my eyes to finally seek release.
Hearing this dear man sing with a simple quitar accomplishment brought back memories long lost, hidden deep within the crevasses of my mind.

God keeps our tears in a bottle, none are wasted. Tears stand for sorrow and with sorrow comes, learning, understanding and hopefully wisdom. 

I was eight years old when my maternal grandfather passed away. The telegram explaining this was delivered to my mother. A piece of paper extinguishing a life. 
How can a child fathom that? so to me it was untrue!
I often sat at the window and watched far up that long dirt road, waiting for his return. 

For many years I kept this Godly man alive in my heart. I remembered the feel of his rough trousers as he crowded us grandchildren on his knee and sang. "Jesus loves the little children, all the children of the world."

It took a simple tape for me to cry,... thirty two years later.