My grandmother was full of joy. Haha, she was so full of life when I was younger. Man, she was a jokester too. Everyday after school my brother Josh and I would come home just waiting to see where grandma was hiding from us. At first, it was always the coat closet. Every time we opened that door after school to hang up our clothes she would pop out and yell, “Boo!”. She got us every time – until we got smart and started to peek inside the closet very slowly to find her. (She’d also play surprised when we tried to do it back to her). But then, one day, we opened the door, and lo and behold, she wasn’t found to be creeping in that dark closet behind all those rainy weather jackets. It wasn’t until we sat down on the couch maybe 30 minutes later that she popped up behind us and got us again. Well played, Grandma T.
My grandmother also sat me in time out at the top of the stairs for over an hour.
My grandmother’s nails always came out bright red and had that awful super rounded tip after going to the nail salon. But boy, those nails were my favorite answer to, “Grandma, will you please tickle my back?”
My grandmother had a lot of earrings and necklaces that I just loved to look at. One day she even took a gold bracelet with a little owl and a red gem in it right off her wrist and gave it to me.
My grandmother wore a red wig and had fake teeth. It always frightened me to see her without them sitting at her dresser on her little light pink and gold stool. I also think she’s the one who influenced my mother and I to use a pick for our hair. She’d sit at that dresser and pick the volume right back into her wig.
My grandmother had the best laugh and chuckle that usually came accompanied by her throwing her hands up in the air.
My grandmother would pat me on my bottom while she rocked me to sleep when I was little. How do I know this? Oh, she loved to tell me every time she saw me when I was older. As her Alzheimer’s set in, sometimes she’d tell me five times within five minutes because that’s really the only thing she remembered about me.
My grandmother was a survivor. I don’t know how many triple by-pass surgeries that woman had, but she always came out the other side. She was a fighter until she just couldn’t fight anymore.
My grandmother also had a nasally voice that is dear to my ears, and I will never forget how happy she was every time she answered the phone when I called with “Oh, hi!” and a chuckle. She loved to say “Oh” before a lot of things.
All of these memories are very dear and sweet to me, but the one that hits my heart the most is the image of her sitting in our “pretty room”, legs propped up on the couch under the window, with one pillow behind her back and one beneath her knees, and her reading glasses on as she read her bible. I would go walk over to her and ask what she was doing, and if she wasn’t in the middle of praying, she’d stop and tell me she was reading the bible and talking with Jesus. Then she’d let me sit and play with her veiny hands while she finished because I just wanted to snuggle her.
My grandmother passed away Friday, July 17th. Here I am, on the other side of the world, serving the God she would tell me about when I was younger, but that I wouldn’t come to know until I was nearly 21 years old.
My grandmother is the only family member I know that has a relationship with Jesus. And in the midst of feeling the loss of a woman whom I dearly love, my Father spoke to me.
As I sat on my knees in an empty church, I let out my soul to Him who upholds my life.
And I cried.
I cried because of the pain and sorrow of death, regardless of the fact that my grandmother was saved. And my God wept with me as He saw the hurt and pain of death (John 11:17-37).
I cried because I saw that He loved my grandmother just as He has loved me, and that she is with Him now. I cried at His goodness and mercy to relieve her from the broken body and world she lived in and bring her fully into His presence.
I cried because He showed me her welcome home to Him and it was beautiful.
I cried because He showed me her young and whole again.
I cried because He showed me what He paid to get her and redeem her and heal her – His only Son on the cross.
I cried for my mother’s loss and that I am unable to be there for her. I cried for her life and for His hope to infiltrate hers during this time.
I cried because even though I am alone in this time of grieving, He is with me and He’s the only one I wanted and needed for comfort.
I cried because in stark contrast to her death, I saw her new life in Him. And he showed me almost 20 Estonians who now have her same hope as they gave their lives to Him in the midst of this broken life.
I cried because our God is so good and faithful, and He allowed me to see, grieve and hope through the lens of His Son.
He met me in my grief and showed me that it was actually His grief at death, and He wept with me. He showed me His goodness and faithfulness in her homecoming. He showed me the hope His children have.
He showed me His heart for me as I sat at His feet.
He told me He will follow me into old age, sickness, memory loss, hurts, trials, loss and betrayal. There is no brokenness He won’t redeem in my life.
He showed me He still loves me just as much as He did the day He saved me; more than I can ever imagine. He will love me to my death.
He showed me His heart for my mother during this time. That He’s grieving the loss of her mother and father, and the absence of her children from her side. He’s there to support her and catch her when she can no longer stand on her own two feet and He’s waiting for it.
My grandmother, I can confidently say, is no longer confined to the oxygen tank and big lazy boy her tiny and frail frame sat in the majority of her final years. My grandmother will stand redeemed, in a new glorified body, with that same chuckle, joy and joking Spirit. But she won’t stand-alone, she will stand next to her Savior and lover of her soul.
My grandmother didn’t know who I was when she passed or the fact that I had become a follower of Christ, let alone that I was serving Him around the world. But a teammate offered this to me, even though it is beyond our theological knowledge, if her memories are restored and she can see me in this world as she sits with Jesus, she would tell me to keep going.
Because in the end, what else is worth living for?
