Tuesday, March 15, 2016 was the worst day of my life. It was an unlikely time to find myself in the
bottom of a dark hole. We were in Kauai,
Hawaii, having celebrated my thirty-ninth birthday just four days before, with
plans for another Hawaiian celebration three days later for our tenth wedding
anniversary. Back pain had plagued me
the entire trip, but hadn’t prevented us from walking the beach, snorkeling,
eating amazingly fresh fish, or sipping Mai Tai’s while being serenaded by
ukuleles playing Hawaiian tunes. But on
this particular day, the back pain had reached a crescendo. I was lying in the car as we drove to the
airport, trying to enjoy the bits of mountain and tree-top views, the only
scenery I could see from my reclined vantage point. And then my phone rang with my mourning Mama
speaking the words I knew where coming, but that I nonetheless dreaded
hearing. My Grandma had died.
The emotional pain that filled my soul piled on top of my
immense physical pain and left me a crying pile of flesh. It took all my strength and resolve just to
take one breath after another. I hobbled
and cried my way through the airport, endured the flight to Maui, and cried
some more as my husband chauffeured me to the first urgent care clinic he could
find. He filled out the paperwork while
I stood at the counter in a daze, unable to sit for the physical pain, and
unable to focus for the emotional pain.
We collected my pain killers, muscle relaxers and steroids to treat a
herniated disc, then made our way to the oceanfront condo where I would spend
my next four days in Maui. I cried out
in pain as I tried to lie down, and the words, “I can’t take this anymore!”
slipped from my mouth. Those hours were
terrible and painful, but my free-fall was broken by the arms of God. He held me in those hours when I was
inconsolable.
The drugs started doing their job over the coming days and I
found myself lying in bed, listening to the waves, and realizing that the same
arms that held me in my time of pain held my dear Grandma in all of her moments
of pain. She suffered from osteoporosis,
which left her bones brittle and constantly breaking. She’d also been fighting
Parkinson’s disease for over twenty years.
This woman of incredible strength, character and love suffered through
her last years, mostly with a smile on her face and a kind word on her
lips. God had been the source of
strength that had fueled her grace-filled life.
I was assured of this realization with the memory of a
recent visit home over Christmas. I
would squeeze in multiple visits with Grandma on each trip home, but the final
visit was always bittersweet. Goodbyes
had become increasingly difficult for both of us, with the realization that
Grandma’s days on earth were numbered.
Grandma began to cry uncontrollably, and wouldn’t let go of my
hand. My heart broke as I grasped for
words to comfort her. And then I
stumbled upon the blessing I had started saying over my boys in the previous
months. I whispered the words over her,
“The Lord bless you and keep you; The Lord make His face to shine upon you and
be gracious to you; The Lord turn his face toward you and give you peace.” (Numbers 6:24-26) As I spoke the words her face cleared and her
breathing calmed. I could feel God’s
presence, holding her, comforting her.
God held her in his loving arms until our next visit home in
February. She summoned every bit of
strength to awaken and greet my boys.
Laughing as 4-year-old Jacob played “this little piggie” on her elevated
feet, singing along as 6-year-old Kenny serenaded her with Yankee Doodle Dandy
from his patriotic program at school, bouncing a balloon back and forth in the
air with 4-year-old John. She was in the
last weeks of her race here on earth, but she refused to put her baton down
early. Instead of staying in her
comfortable, trance-like state, she chose to be present and connected with her
great-grandsons one last time.
Grandma was an expert at putting other’s in front of
herself. An unexpected visitor at
dinnertime was always invited to stay, with Grandma giving up her portion for
the visitor. If you complimented her on
a new blouse or her pretty winter coat, she would tell you she was getting
tired of it and why don’t you take it home and use it for a while. She kept chocolate chip cookie dough in her
freezer, scooping out enough for a pan of fresh baked cookies when anyone
dropped in for a visit. She had a way of
making each person around her feel special and loved, much like I imagine Jesus
did during the years He walked this earth.
Grandma held a special place in my heart. We shared a love of all things girly from
fashion to decorating. I have cherished
memories of shopping trips to JC Penny’s where Grandma and I would pick out my
first-day-of-school outfit and then go out to lunch. I spent my college year’s having weekly lunch
dates with Grandma, who was just a ten minutes’ drive from my sorority
house. I moved away after college, and
we both relished with a new intensity my monthly trips home. We’d sneak off to her sitting room with a
plate of cookies and cups of coffee, leaving Grandpa reclined and watching
football. I’d tell her about my
adventures in St. Louis and try to pry out stories of her life. We would always end up laughing so loud that
Grandpa would holler from the other room, “What’s going on in there?” We’d elicit more comments from Grandpa when
our goodbyes became too long and mushy with kisses, hugs, and “I love you
mores”.
One of the best parts of growing older has been discovering
the pieces of Grandma that I inherited.
I have her same white streak in the front of my hair. I love playing pranks on and teasing my
children. I cherish my girlfriends. I love my God. I am strong-willed and determined.
There are other characteristics that Grandma demonstrated so
effortlessly. Unconditional love,
self-sacrificial generosity, and hospitality are a part of who Grandma
was. I wish these came more naturally to
me, but thanks to having her determined nature I do my best to conjure them up
as much as possible.
Grandma’s determination served her well, especially in the
last years of her life on earth. She was
determined to live at home, to be surrounded by family, and to hold tight to
her faith to the very end. She could
proudly say, “I have fought the good fight, I have finished the race, I have
kept the faith.” (2 Timothy 4:7). Verse 8 goes on to say, “Now there is in
store for me the crown of righteousness, which the Lord, the righteous Judge,
will award to me on that day…” While
March 15 was the worst of my days, it was the best of Grandma’s. She crossed the finished line, joined her
husband in heaven, and had a sparkling crown placed upon her head of beautiful
hair. This reality brings me joy in the
face of my pain, and a new determination to run my own race as well as Grandma
ran hers. I can’t wait to mush it up
with her someday in heaven. What a happy
day that will be indeed.
