This is Our Story

The day that I was so sure was a few years off came early.  My Grandma, Helen Fern Erb, became a resident of heaven on Tuesday, February 16.  She spent her last days on vacation in Clearwater Beach, with the love of her life (my Grandpa) by her side.  

The shock is starting to wear off, and it almost seems a prophecy that was waiting to be fulfilled.  It was their twentieth year at Clearwater.  Grandma turned 87 on February 15.  They were scheduled to depart Florida for their home in Iowa on February 17.  Grandma was not fond of changing plans, and I can’t wait to see her again in heaven and verify what my gut is telling me……this woman wasn’t going to die on her birthday, and she certainly wasn’t going to cause a change in plans for their return to Iowa.    

The family gathered this week to honor her. Grandma was an only child who left a legacy of 6 children, 21 grandchildren, and 16 (and counting) great-grandchildren. She would have been thrilled with the 400 people who attended her visitation, and the 200 people at her funeral.  She would have laughed at the story my Dad (her firstborn) wrote and the pastor read.  My prayer is she felt appreciated and understood by the eulogy I delivered. 

Family gathered around Grandpa the evening after the funeral. The shell shock of losing his wife seems far worse than the fighting he survived during World War 2.  For the first time ever, there are breaks in conversation, moments of silence that had never before existed in my Grandparents living room.  My Grandma LOVED to talk, leaving my Grandpa unable to get a word in edgewise.  He never seemed to mind, resorting to his newspaper or birdwatching to break up the monotony of conversation. 

Now he looks longingly out the window towards my Grandma’s grave, just on the other side of the ravine.  And after a few minutes shares the story of how they first met.  With a little prompting, we hear about his childhood, the war, his lifelong best friend, and family road trips.  He finishes at 10:15, a full forty-five minutes past his bedtime, and declares, “Somebody should write this all down.”  

It’s good to remember during times of mourning.  Remembering seems like a prayer of thanks for all the blessings that God has bestowed.  And remembering is nothing new.  The Israelites “remembered” when God acted on their behalf by piling rocks to form an altar.  So, in a similar way, my hope is to create an altar of stories.  Each story honoring the incredible heritage I’ve been given, as well as the God who dreamt up each character, setting, and storyline.  

Big Daddy Weave sings it best in their song “My Story”:

If I told you my story You would hear hope that wouldn't let go If I told you my story You would hear love that never gave up If I told you my story You would hear life but it wasn't mine
If I should speak then let it be Of the grace that is greater than all my sin Of when justice was served and where mercy wins Of the kindness of Jesus that draws me in To tell you my story is to tell of Him This is my story this is my song praising my Savior all the day long