When leaving home for an extended time, in my case, 5 months, you are aware that things will happen back at home without you. Wether they be planned events or something unexpected, and wether they are positive or negative, they happen. And this past weekend, one of those things at home happened for me, my Grandma Gale died. I want to share the story with you, not for your pity but for your prayers. I want to share because in reading my blog, you are supporting me, and in becoming a supporter, it means, you wish to not only celebrate in the joys of the ministry I get to do and the life I get to live, but you join me in my sorrows as well. So here is the story…
C-squad had reached the end of month one successfully, and we had met up in San Jose, Costa Rica to get aboard a bus to Granada, Nicaragua for our very first debrief! It was an exciting time of catching up with other squad mates, swapping stories about the past month of ministry, and anticipating the relaxation and adventure debrief promised! We began our journey from San Jose to Granada at 10:30pm, with plans to drive through the night and arrive at the border between Costa Rica and Nicaragua right as it opened. I had slept pretty soundly till the border, and upon waking a co-leader informed me of an email sent from our mentor I should look at. Using the complementary bus wifi, I pulled up my email to find one other email from my father simply titled “Update from dad” not knowing what is said, at 4:17am I took a screenshot of it to read after we left the bus.
Sitting in line outside of the closed border office, this is what I read:
Molly Fae,
I just got a phone call from poppy. Grandma Gale is in surgery with a brain tumor. If they don’t operate, she would die within 3 days. I am flying down there tomorrow to be with poppy and will be gone until next Wednesday. Ill fly home to go to the wedding, then may go back down if needed.
Don’t know any other details, but will keep you posted. Please have your squad pray for all of this.
Love you lots sweetie. More later.
That was a heavy email to get. 9 sentences. 83 words. 1 paragraph. All adding up to the hard truth. An unexpected brain tumor, found at random. An ultimatum, surgery or death. I was in a fog, not the light kind it is still safe to drive through, but the kind so thick that you can’t see, you can hardly even breathe, the kind that you wave your hands in front of you hoping to grasp onto anything that can give you stability, but you just grab nothing and stubble your way forward. Luckily in my stumbling and grasping, God gave me my co-leaders, Kate, Kevin, and Larisa to confide in and lean on in the hours outside in the cold, under the florescence of the Costa Rica/Nicaragua border office.
After making it through the border crossing at around 7:15am, C-squad was back on the bus and I took over the bus microphone for a moment and in a cracked voice, through the threat of tears, I told them about the situation that had arisen in the last 3 hours. Then, like my father asked me to, I had the squad pray for my family, my Grandma Gale and Poppy, for the doctors, the tumor, everything. With nothing else to do I spent the next number of minutes refreshing my email till another email came through with the same subject line, “Update from dad.” The beginning of it read:
Molly Fae,
Grandma did not do well with the surgery. When they removed the tumor there was massive bleeding. She went into a coma. She is on life support for now keeping her alive, but by all indications she will probably be with Jesus very soon. (…) We won’t know more until I get down there and to the hospital around 8 pm tonight.
Guys, I wish I had the words to tell you how I felt, but I don’t. It felt like a big hole inside my chest opened up and sucked me into myself. I was Isolated, I was sad, I was miserable, I was worried, I was lonely, I was scared. I felt like little 10 year old Molly Fae, lost in Disney World again, not knowing were to go or how to cope, sobbing, hoping my parents would find me. I was in limbo, not knowing if my Grandmother was going to live or die, but understanding, if I was honest with myself, that she would die.
How do you move forward in that moment? Live like nothing is wrong, like there isn’t this potential for sorrow or joy balancing on the edge of a knife? How do you keep doing what needs to be done when in the back of your mind you are fighting a battle; knowing that there is that slim chance that she will get better, but knowing the very realistic truth that life support is not a good thing and that the phrases “keeping her alive” and “she will probably be with Jesus very soon” aren’t promising either? I just don’t know.
But somehow I made it through the day, we had a meeting, a dinner, and I am sure some other things happened too, I just don’t remember. That night around 10:30pm, email number 3 arrived, this time from my Mother, the subject line “Grandma Gale” it read:
Molly Fae,
Dad just texted. Grandma Gale passed at about 10:06 pm. She did not last long after being taken off the vent. Dad, Keith, Allie, and Poppy were all with her. I love you sweetie. I will send more details tomorrow after talking with Dad tomorrow.
Hugs and Kisses,
Mom
Yep. There it is. It hurt, a lot. And it still really does. I have no regrets and nothing went unsaid, but I just wish I could have known the last time I saw her was the last time I’d see her. I wish she could be at my wedding, see me have kids, see me be happy as I start a career, I wish all these things… but I don’t know… I just don’t know. Outside of that I don’t really know what to say.
I kept the news to myself that first day of talks and one-on-ones, with the exception of my co-leaders and squad mentor Ben. I cried, and then slept, then woke up, and got going, because debrief was starting and I had a job to do. There was nothing wrong with immersing myself in the work that had to be done, as long as I was sure to intermix that time with opportunities to process and mourn. My mom is a wise women, and she said it best when she told me:
Don’t feel like you will be cold or uncaring if you continue to do your job there, I think it is actually a healthy coping mechanism to allow a gradual processing of information without being overwhelmed with emotion. Don’t get me wrong, one does need to process these things but it does not need to be all consuming…it is important to take time to grieve and process but also celebrate life. Grandma Gale loved to travel, enjoy every aspect of every country where you are. Take it all in and think of her while you are doing it. Embrace those around you and what your job is there to the Glory of God as you remember her.
I will miss my Grandma, dearly. But I have made the decision, on my own, that I will not be going home for her memorial service. Funerals are for the living. I have support here, and I am able to appreciate the life of Grandma Gale here in a way I wouldn’t be able to if I was back in Ohio. Although ministry keeps us busy, I have time to process, mourn, cry, and most importantly, celebrate the woman my Grandma was.
She was a mother, a wife, a believer, she enjoyed life, family, a good tube of red-lipstick, and an exquisitely executed tea party. She love travel, interesting places, and surrounding herself with quality people; I plan on carrying on that tradition.
Currently C-squad is in Nicaragua, a very interesting place. We are working with Vision Nicaragua, some quality people. I will post an update about month one soon, and fill you in more about what is going on this month, but right now I leave you with this:
Love well.
Molly Fae
