People say that God will never give us something that we can’t handle, but I don’t think that is completely accurate. I think he steps back and doesn’t interfere in certain situations even when we probably aren’t strong enough for combat. No one was meant to have cancer. No one was created to have congestive heart failure. He didn’t design us to suffer with an anxiety disorder.
But you know what He does instead? He provides people. Friends, family, even strangers, that will help you get through any trial that seems too big. All you have to do is let people in. All I needed to do was sacrifice my pride allow people to care.
These people helped with all the firsts. The first Father’s Day. The first visit to his house. The first time that I heard his ring tone on my mother’s phone. The first scoop of dirt that fell on a freshly lowered casket. I am without a doubt his granddaughter by refusing to let my emotions be a burden for anyone other than me, but community on the race doesn’t give space for that.
When I was at launch back in January, I felt like I was ditching my family. I obsessed over the idea that something bad was going to happen. As I cried for my family, He told me ‘I have them. Go.’ So, when I heard that my grandpa’s health was getting progressively worse, I got mad.
I bought tickets to fly home even though my dad said that I needed to prepare myself for the possibility of not making it home in time. I just needed to hold his hand once more. I needed to see his face; the one with the thick eyebrows and nose that mirrors my own. The very next day, I got that call. The one I have dreaded for the last 3 years ever since my grandpa was diagnosed with congestive heart failure.
On June 14, 2017, Heaven gained another angel. My grandfather, Robert ‘Bob’ Howard Wymore, went home.
I cried less after my dad told me than the days and weeks leading up to him leaving us. I was numb. I was so angry and sad and devastated and wrecked at the same time that my mind didn’t know what emotion to feel first.
Over the last six months, God has been preparing me. He has surrounded me with squad mates that I now can’t imagine life without and blessed me with a team that said all the right words. They understood my obsessive, irrational, and rambling thoughts. They held me as I broke.
My brother did his duty to ensure my safety, my dad and mom didn’t question my need to be home they just helped find the tickets, I had amazing friends offering to pick me up at the airport, my team all offered their help by carrying items that were not vital for my return trip home, and I was shocked that two of them willingly joined me on the 18 + hour trip to the airport and the 20 + ride back to the new city they were in. The list of people taking care of me is long and is growing every day.
I really was mad with God. I felt lied to. I doubted my ability to hear him. I played the ‘what if I would have just gone home a week sooner’ game. I couldn’t understand why He couldn’t have left my grandpa for 3 more days.
I had 27 hours relatively by myself to ponder over ALL of this while I went home.
What I learned was I that I was being selfish. I got to say my physical goodbye back in January. When I ‘heard’ complete protection over my family, it was actually Him promising to be that Ultimate Healer. He never meant that everyone would stay healthy. He meant that everyone would be ok and that sometimes just means safety.
Grandpa is safely in Heaven. He’s Home. God healed him from the pain of his physical earthly body and gave him eternity. He’s holding on tight as my grandma is dragging him to all the places that she’s seen in the last 18 years she’s been waiting for him. There’s some sort of map clutched in his other hand that is giving him an overview of Heaven, and every unanswered question that he’s ever had has been answered.
Healing isn’t always physical. Protection doesn’t always stay on earth. What I didn’t understand was that when God tells us ‘I’ve got them, Go!’ He meant that He was planning to use me in the grieving process. My family was my ministry that week. And I am beyond forever grateful for the provision that brought me home, even for a short week.
I love you, Grandpa.
