For my grandmother

When I first sat down to write this, my grandmother was dying.  Though it was no surprise, and though I knew she was tired, and though I know heaven awaits her, and though I know she deserves rest and a true home, it hurts to think of her leaving.


It's not just hurt.  It's as if imagining a world without her in it doesn't make any sense:  how could we lose such a wonderful creature? Such a blessed example and inspiration?  Such a faithful, hardworking servant?


My grandmother was everything I hope to be as a woman, a wife and a mother.  She was graceful, feminine, ever-organized and on it . . . she was the epitome of woman with all of her admirable domestic skills, graces and charms.  Nothing surprised her, by which I mean that she took everything--everything--in stride with that same grace and competence.  


Her children's and her grandchildren's folly and mistakes . . . she looked beyond them to see the true person behind the foolishness, and she always loved us.  She never excused that willful selfishness, but she never shamed us, either.  She only encouraged us to do better, to try again, and to keep working to be the soul she could see in us.  God bless her for that love and encouragement.


She made a home for anyone anywhere she was:  she was charitable, giving, self-sacrificing and kind.  She had love and kindness for all, and how tender she was with any little ones!  She was open to life in every way that you could imagine: a true gift to humanity for the lives that she touched.  Five children in poverty and sporadic unemployment, meager natural resources and a modest home, but that woman could make feasts and celebrations from a few beans, some cornmeal and some government cheese!  


She was faithful:  her trust in our merciful Lord radiated in all that she did.  She had work before her, whether it was caring for my sick grandfather or guiding wayward ones, and no matter how impossible it all seemed, she just carried on and did what was in her power to do.  If I can imitate one thing, I hope it is this willingness to serve and to fulfill His work in this world.  She never complained about it; she never acted as if His demands were a burden to her.  She brought joy to every small chore or task, and a quiet determination and commitment to the big ones.  God bless her and reward her for that.


I've spent the last days reflecting on her life, her soul and her legacy, and I know that while her efforts did bear fruit while she lived, they will continue to blossom and grow in the lives of the people whom she touched.  The world hasn't lost her:  they had the blessing of having her for a time, and so many of us are the better for it.  


She was a blessing and a gift, and with the help of her prayers, I hope one day to meet her again in that holy place.  I am left with the memory of her life, which proclaims:  


The Lord is the portion of my inheritance and of my cup: it is you that will restore my inheritance to me.  The lines are fallen unto me in goodly places: for my inheritance is goodly to me.  
I will bless the Lord, who has given me understanding: moreover, my reins also have corrected me even till night.  
I set the Lord always in my sight: for he is at my right hand, that I be not moved.  
Therefore my heart has been glad, and my tongue has rejoiced: moreover, my flesh also shall rest in hope.  (Ps 16)