There once was a man who claimed to be more than just a man. Everywhere he journeyed the crowds flocked to him, even if only to catch a glimpse. Many broke through the swelling throngs to reach him, determined to overcome any obstacle in order to speak with him, to encounter him, to merely touch the tassels of his cloak. Everyone who did found that profound healing of some kind inevitably resulted from that encounter. But this man was so much more than a wise teacher. He was

My grandmother, whom we always knew as "Nana", passed away on July 31, 2016 at the age of 82. I could never begin to write a sufficient amount of words to describe Nana to anyone who will not have the blessing of knowing her in this life. Tonight I thought I'd just spend a few paragraphs unpacking her last words, which I think help to paint her portrait very adequately. Not long before my grandmother drew her final breaths, she awoke and told my mom to go get my sister Annie.