Today, the tears I’d been holding back finally came. It happened as I read Uncle Rodney’s post — his tender words about Aunty Delice’s final days on earth. The story of their last reading together, Psalm 91 — her favourite psalm — undid me. They were reading the very words that had anchored her faith for decades when she fell silent and slipped toward eternity.

There is something achingly beautiful about that image: two souls wrapped in prayer, dwelling “in the secret place of the Most High,” until one is called home.

Uncle Rodney’s letter carried both the ache of absence and the glow of gratitude. After fifty-seven years of shared life, love, and ministry, his words reflected the strength of covenant — love that endures storms, children, decades, and even the veil between earth and heaven.

Reading his tribute stirred something deep within me — a remembering of how Aunty Delice stepped in with grace and generosity to take up my mother’s responsibilities during my wedding and for my family. Her care was steady, practical, and full of love. She sewed my wedding dress, baked our cake, and wrapped every detail with the kind of tenderness that speaks louder than words. Her life was the sermon that showed me what love in action looks like.

I wept because her story mirrors my values — faith, family, service, compassion — the very things she helped awaken in me. I wept because the kind of love she lived doesn’t end; it multiplies. It seeps into generations and echoes in our own tenderness toward others.

That was her daily prayer — and now it’s her answered one.

💡Reflection:

Whose faith has shaped yours, and how might you honour their legacy by the way you love and serve today?🤔

🙌🏻Prayer:

Lord, thank You for Aunty Delice’s legacy of love and devotion. Thank You for the way her faith shaped generations. Help me to live as she did — unhurried in love, unwavering in faith, and unafraid of surrender. Let her example draw me closer to You each day, until the moment faith becomes sight.

In Jesus’ Name, Amen.