Having the community of the World Racers and their parents this last week was everything I could have prayed for. To be honest, sometimes living in community sucks. Especially when you share a room with seven other women and you can’t walk to your bed without tripping over dirty clothes and backpacks. Or when you wake up to no clean dishes for breakfast, and all the mugs completely missing.
Yet at other times, community is everything you could ever hope for, and something you truly need. This last week it has been just that.
I lost my Grandpa this last week… It hasn’t been easy to cope with. This death was different than the three I experienced last summer, he was ready to die. He had lived his life, and loved his family. He was ready to be with Jesus. We even had a pre-warning before it happened, “make arrangements” the hospice workers said.
Yet, it is still hard.
I lived with this man for nine months, and took care of him part time for nine months before that. I cooked for him, cleaned for him, drove him everywhere. I filled his pill boxes, gave him his medicine, made his doctor appointments, cut his toe nails, and even trimmed his nose hair.
I was driven up the wall by some of his actions and comments, yet I loved him fiercely. This man was MY Grandpa, and he loved me and I him.
While I was living with him I never had to worry about anything. He provided the money for all the food, never asked me to pay a cent for staying at their house, and even asked me if needed money for gas or personal items on a regular basis. He cared, and he provided.
Even though at times the TV was turned up so loud that I could hear it perfectly WITH ear plugs in, and I occasionally had to go on a car chase or investigation when he ran away to the casino (paying a tenant to drive him up there), I still miss every second of it.
I miss his crazy stories, and how he would drop almost all of his dinner onto the carpet – even after I just cleaned… Just so that Benji could eat dinner too (dog food for his poodle? No way, not for Benji). I miss his slobbery kisses goodnight, tucking him into bed, and his heart felt goodbyes when I would leave for the weekend to go back to Fort Collins.
I miss Amu telling me how many times he asked when I was coming back while I was gone. I miss the welcome home hug I received when I did return from the weekend, even though I was only gone two days.
Death is never easy… As much as you think you are prepared, or as much as you think you know how to grieve. Death of a loved one always hits you hard.
This week I have been prayed for more times than I can count. I have been hugged, encouraged, and provided for. My mom and I got an envelope full of encouraging notes and even some money to help out with the extra costs of everything.
This week I have been loved, and loved well.
God knew exactly how I would react to the news. He knew exactly how my Mom would react. He knew that we would both benefit from the World Race community, and He knew that we needed each other.
God’s timing is perfect.
Even though I desperately wish I could have held Apu’s hand and kissed him one last time – I know that he has been watching my mom and I adventure this week.
He was with us when we played with the elephants at the elephant sanctuary, and he was shaking his head as soon as we walked into that cage with the Tigers.
The amount of God’s perfect grace that I have felt this week is indescribable. The amount of His perfect love, His peace. The experiences I still got to experience, and the emotions I felt during it all. The timing of my mom and I’s conversation. My team, and some of my old teammates still being at the same ministry I was working at for PVT, just so that I could see them and they could support me. Everything down to the last minute – God planned.
Apu died at 7:14pm on May 1st. 7:(7+7), his favorite numbers to see. He loved playing the lucky number 7 slot machines, if he was winning of course. Otherwise the machines were rigged, and he would definitely speak to the manager about it – or take matters into his own hands and hit the machine with his cane.
I still don’t know how God could have perfectly orchestrated this week any better – but I am so thankful that I serve a God that knows me and what I need better than myself. I am so thankful that I serve a God who plans out my steps, and gives me blessings when I need them. I am so thankful that I serve a God that loves, me and loves me well.
This week I really realized how special the community is on the Race. How much power is in prayer, and how perfect God’s plans and His timing really are.
This week I am thankful, even though I am hurting. I know now more than ever that God knows what I’m feeling, He cares, and He is holding me in His hands.
