When my grandmother passed away a year ago,
I knew I had to speak at her funeral.
Knowing it would be difficult,
the temptation came to leave the speaking solely to the pastor.
But God gave me a sweet word over her.
I heard,
and after a brief moment of,
“No, no, no”
and then laughter and smiles,
I had to obey Him.
And I wanted to …
for Him and her.
The funeral came,
and as I got up on that platform to speak –
the platform that …
I had seen and heard my grandfather lead singing from,
teaching me the words to “Heaven Came Down” …
the platform that …
I had stood on in a little country church as a child visitor for VBS and
looked out to see and hear my grandmother sitting in the pew singing …
the platform that …
is next to the kitchen door that
I had walked through that I had always heard and I know houses the best made
chicken and dumplings that only those precious folks on this side of Heaven
know how to make …
and oh, my grandmother could make chicken and dumplings …
that special little church platform
I looked down to see my beloved’s precious body laying before me …
in the precious light pink casket she herself picked out.



Overwhelm swallowed me,
and tears began to flow.
My heart was broken.
Life would not be the same without her.
My world had changed.
I grasped my face in my hands.
Only seconds of quietness passed,
and I heard a voice praying out loud for me.
I knew who it was …
I knew the voice …
I didn’t even have to look up.
The voice was …
She began interceding for me.
I listened.
Her precious intercession enabled me
to regroup and …
I have to add that her sister, Margarett,
sitting beside her,
had near heart failure when Mom broke out in prayer.
And every opportunity I receive to speak on surviving hardships
and my mom is present,
I am tickled to pieces to caution the audience that …
she will start praying out loud for me if she has to …
if I need intercession;
and after all, it’s only fair that I caution them.
“If she starts praying out loud,
don’t be afraid.
She will do it.
She will do it!”
(Feel free to hear my Texas twang; won’t bother me one bit.)
And I am tickled to pieces that I can count on her to do just that.
She’s my momma of all.
When we are going through that hardship
that hurts so much …
we don’t know how we are going to make it
or how we are going to fare on the other end …
when that platform hurts so much …

that platform of loss
that platform of pain
that platform of guilt
that platform of abuse
that platform of blame
that platform of illness
that platform of disease
that platform of heartache

when our eyes are swollen from crying,
and we can’t seem to lift our faces from our hands …
we are going to hear our Father’s voice.
And we will hear
Heaven Came Down.
And we’ll listen.
We won’t even have to look up.
We’ll know it’s
And we’ll be able to regroup and …

4 thoughts on “Platform

  1. Just wanted to say hi. Thanks for giving “platform” a sweeter meaning. Sometimes we need to be reminded of His purpose and platform in this crazy, demanding writing world. I'm a Oklahoma/Texas (Texhoma) girl, so you're practically family. Kindred-Spirit. Keep writing! Keep speaking! Keep shining your light. See you on Twitter. Blessings! ~andy @wordsbyandylee and


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