Today I feel a little melancholy.
Not drag out the black beret, but.
I know it's because I'm grieving. And that it's natural and good that I grieve. I wouldn't ask Grandma back for even a second. She is fully engaged, beyond what any of us could imagine. No eye has seen, no ear heard, no mind has imagined. Her dim eyes and dull ears fully grasp that statement from scripture.
She also isn't concerned about any one of us. She trusts God to work out each of our life plans. She knows that He loves us far more than she ever could, and that Jesus died for each of her loved ones, just like He did for her. She knows that the Hound of Heaven can be relentless in His pursuit of those who seek truth.
What is driving me on the melancholy mile is the awareness that life doesn't really pause for the important moments. The world doesn't stop spinning, or quirk it's head to hear better. Grandma simply stepped out of one reality and into another leaving us with a void.
My grandma, though she has four other granddaughters and a handful of older voiced great granddaughters always knew my voice when I called. Three quarters deaf, she knew it was me. She also knew my business. Mom did a great job of keeping her apprised of the details of my life and the next time I'd chat with her she'd know about the latest details. Some of those details were sometimes garbled with the whole hearing issue. But she knew.
I also might be feeling this void because I've lost someone who was praying for me. Do you suppose that what I'm feeling is one less prayer being said for me? And maybe this is a reminder that when I feel a little less covered I should enter the throne room and take things to God on behalf of my loved ones..
I also am very aware that Grandma was a tiny hub around which our extended family rotated. My cousins, my aunt and uncles... we have one less reason to gather together. We have now entered into the zone where we need to make our relationships intentional or we will lose touch. And that makes me sad. At least once a year we'd have a get together. Not everyone was able to join. But we saw each other every few years. Now, we could just drift away from each other on the currents on our separate lives.
What can I learn from my Grandmother's life and her death? I will keep peeling away at the layers and choose to learn.