Page 34 - Oasis in the Sky

Cultivar

I always liked going to Grandpa’s house.
He had a veritable green thumb, though it
was more often than not stained brown with
soil and mulch. Even though I thought he
grew every flower under the sun,

his favorites were African Violets and their
many different kinds and varieties.
“Cultivars” he called them. Although
they were different, they were still the same:
they were all African Violets.

With loving attention, he ministered to all
living things around him. He nurtured me
with the same tenderness and care as he did
his prize winning violets. He rooted my soul
in the soil of perseverance and loyalty.

Watered my spirit with the draughts of
kindness and mercy. Strengthened my being
with grafts of morality and righteousness.
Pollinated my manhood with chasteness and
fidelity, and watched with pride as I

blossomed and bore fruit. He is gone now,
yet he still lives on. Those who knew him
and who know me say we are much the same,
uncanny in our alikeness in both
talent and temperament.

Yes, Grandpa, I am your legacy...
I am your cultivar.

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Oasis in the Sky
Oasis in the Sky