A Legacy

Last week, my mom got a call that her mother, who had suffered with lung cancer for the past year, had gone through a massive stroke.

Immediately, our jaws dropped and  tears began to flow.

We were told that the matriarch of our family was in her last days.

The end was drawing near for the woman who had kept our family together. The woman who had married her high school sweet heart at the age of 19. The woman who had 7 kids in 6 years all by the time that she was was 26-years-old. The woman who raised her children to love Jesus. The woman who had 21 grand children and an amazing relationship with every single one of them. The woman who had 14 great-grand children. The woman who left a legacy. The woman who loved the Lord with her whole heart and wanted to see the Gospel spread more than anything.

That woman was getting ready to go see Jesus.

...but not without a fight.

My mom and my aunt found a flight for the next day and flew out to Tucson, AZ. All week, my grandfather and all of her children, stayed by her side. All but her youngest child, Rob, who went to be with Jesus at a young age due to cancer.

Grandma was left unresponsive and helpless after her stroke. But that didn't stop her family from talking to her, encouraging her, and reading her scripture.

All week, I sat behind my computer at work, just waiting to get a call from my mom to tell me that grandma had finally let go to be with the Lord.

We waited, waited, waited, and waited, and then waited some more. For 5 days grandma was given "24 hours to live". But she wasn't about to go.

Over and over, her children, grand children, and even great-grand children told her, "Grandma, let go and go be with Uncle Robbie."

But she wasn't ready just yet.

Soon, Thursday rolled around and it was time for my family to go to be with grandma. Her memorial service was scheduled for Saturday. I'm convinced that she just didn't want to miss her own party.

As I walked into the beautiful hospice center that had been her home for the week, nothing could have prepared me for seeing my grandma. She was sick. But she was still grandma. We prayed and we sang and we joined hands around her bed. We told her, yet again, that it was okay to let go.

That night, around 11:10 pm, grandma went to be with Jesus with her dear husband and her kindred spirit and grand-daughter, my sister, at her side.

Friday rolled around, and my family pulled together and planned a celebration to honor our mother and grandmother.

That's exactly what we did. We celebrated her life.

At the service on Saturday, I was honored to be one of the 4 grand children to share about grandma. This is what the Lord put on my heart to say:

Reading of Psalm 146

"If there is one thing that I will always remember about my grandma, it's that she loved to party. I can still hear her contagious laughter echoing off the walls as she won a had of Rook, listened to grandpa sing a  rousing chorus of "Another One Bites the Dust", or just sat around the table telling stories with her family. She loved to have a good time and she was always the life of the party whether she liked it or not. She loved to party and she loved to praise Jesus while doing it. My grandma loved life and she loved to celebrate. If you knew her, you know that she would have wanted today to be a celebration of life. Today I'm celebrating a life well lived--lived to the fullest--all for the glory and honor of her savior, Jesus Christ.

In the last year of grandma's life, she spoke of how she just wanted to celebrate life and share the Gospel with her story. That woman loved Jesus and just wanted to see the Word of God spread. A close second to Jesus was her incredible husband. Grandma loved grandpa more than I can even express. She served him, honored him, and never spoke a negative word about him--not that there are may negative things to say about The Big Guy. Grandma was one of those people who had an overwhelming amount of love for everyone. She was the most thoughtful and caring person I have ever met. She never forgot a birthday, never failed to send out cards for every occasion, and regularly called multiple people just to find out what's new. Once I heard grandpa say, "The amount of money that she spends on cards every month is ridiculous!" She loved to serve others and make people smile. She had 7 kids, 21, grandkids, and 14 great-grandkids. On top of that, she acquired so many friends over her almost 75 years. If you ever met her and didn't feel blessed after being with her, then you should probably check your pulse.

Grandma was an incredible woman who influenced this family in more ways than I can say. She taught us to love each other, love others, and most importantly, to love Jesus.

The last time I was with my grandma, she took me to get my nose pierced. When we returned from our little adventure, I checked my email and got the news that my plans for the Fall had fallen through. I was devastated. Grandma talked me through my options, comforted me, and encouraged me. I would not have wanted to be with anyone else in that time.

Today we want to honor her and I think I speak on behalf of all of us grandkids when I say that we are so privileged and blessed to have called her, "grandma"."

I love you grandma and I miss you. See you soon!

1 Peter 5:10, 11
And after you have suffered a little while, the God of all grace, who has called you to his eternal glory in Christ, will himself restore, confirm, strengthen, and establish you. To him be the dominion forever and ever. Amen.

Twelve

Four polo shirts, two khaki skorts, one skirt, and a plaid skort from 3rd grade hang idly in my closet tonight. Washed and ironed for the last time in June. Twelve years of history went into those clothes. I wore them everyday. I had a routine: Green polo on Monday, navy blue polo on Tuesday, white shirt Wednesday, light blue on Thursday, and navy blue again on Friday because it was my favorite; alternating skorts every day based on what spilled during lunch--which my dear mother packed for me everyday all the way through senior year. I had two pairs of flats: One black and one brown. I had a logo sweatshirt which I would wear in the winter months paired with black dress pants.

Twelve years.

Twelve full years of classical, private, Christian school.

Twelve years of memories.

Twelve years of mafia games.

Twelve years of amazing teachers.

Twelve years of Biblical truths instilled in me.

Eight years of anticipating Mock Trial and four unforgettable years of participating.

Twenty-twelve. Twelve students. Twelve years.

Today was bittersweet...mostly bitter. Today was the first day of The River Academy's 2012-13 school year. Today 200 students woke up, picked out their favorite of the four polos, ate breakfast, and drove to the big brick building on the corner of Crawford and Okanogan. 200 students lined the halls, stomped on the brown carpet, and carried their backpacks that may as well have carried bricks. They unloaded their pencils, rulers, lined paper, notebooks, binders, Bibles, and dictionaries into their little cubbies and lockers.

I was not one of those 200 students.

Twelve years of going to school and suddenly after a two hour ceremony, it all comes to a screeching halt. It all ends. Just like that. In the snap of a finger.

Today I woke up, put on my skirt for work, and headed to an office where I sat behind a computer until 5 o'clock this evening. I love my job. But today I wanted be somewhere else. I wanted to join those 200 students in that school, which has been my second home for twelve years.

In three weeks, I will board a plane. I will fly to the unknown world of Schladming, Austria. Life will drastically change. No more uniforms. No more backpacks. No more TRA.

I am beyond excited for my new adventure, for this new chapter. But today, it's sinking in. The first chapter of my life has come to an end. It's over. It's time to move on.

Everyone has to grow up. And I am ready for my time.

...but today it's more bitter than sweet.

“All children, except one, grow up. They soon know that they will grow up, and the way Wendy knew was this. One day when she was two years old she was playing in a garden, and she plucked another flower and ran with it to her mother. I suppose she must have looked rather delightful, for Mrs Darling put her hand to her heart and cried, ‘Oh, why can’t you remain like this for ever!’ This was all that passed between them on the subject, but henceforth Wendy knew that she must grow up. You always know after you are two. Two is the beginning of the end.” 
-J.M. Barrie, Peter Pan