The Jukebox of My Mind: Words of Remembrance

I know, I know. I haven't blogged in a while. Caryl Dooley reminds me of this every time I talk to her :-) Well, this isn't the most cheery blog post, and it isn't really going to update you on my life. But it is something I want to share with people who knew my Grams and knew how much she meant to my family. For those who don't know, she passed away last week, on Valentine's Day- 95 years old.

I'm home right now with my family, and it is so great to be with my mom. The past two weeks were really difficult for her, and it took all of my will-power to not fly home at the beginning of the month. We've been able to spend some good quality time together.

I was asked to say some words at her memorial service this past Thursday, and that is what I have pasted below. Grammy's pastor told me after the service that when it came time for her homily she almost got up and said "Well, Christa preached! My job is done!" (But she still preached a great homily anyway!) I only cried once (talking about the last time I saw her), and I'm proud of what I was able to say. I miss her lots. The house just isn't the same without her.

Here goes:

When I think about the fact that my sister Jenna and I were able to live with our grandmother for the past fifteen years, only one thing comes to mind: What. A. Blessing.

This past week, when people at Duke asked me where my grandmother lived, and I answered that she lived with us; that we moved to our house so that she could live with us; that it would be strange to be home without her- all my peers commented on how amazing that was. We all know what a wonderful person Ethel was, and to think about the amount of time we were able to spend with her makes me so grateful that we had that opportunity.

When I think about the times that I will remember most about Grams, I don’t necessarily think about the over-the-top, extraordinary times. Honestly, I think about the ordinary, everyday things. I think about how we used to watch television together when I got home from school- Murder She Wrote, Win Ben Stein’s Money, and Jeopardy. I think about how I would help her with her crossword puzzles or sudoku, and ask her about what she read in the paper. I think about how she was very particular and always had to put the newspaper back in the right order before I could bring it to my dad. For the rest of my life I will always remember Grammy whenever I walk down the candy aisle at CVS and see chocolate parfait Nips. I will think of her when I play Yahtzee or (like last Sunday) when I hear someone at church talk about how they always get their coffee ready to brew the night before. None of these things are extraordinary.

For her, it was never about the best gift, or the best party, or the best trip. Sometimes it’s just about the time spent together, even if nothing “important” was happening during that time. Sometimes the most meaningful moments are the times when we simply sit, and hold a hand, and chat. For Grams, Grammy, Grandmama, it was normal to show love through the ordinary times. That woman’s heart was bigger than any person’s I know. The last time I saw her, Grammy did not know who I was. I sat down with her, I held her hand. I told her I loved her. Despite the fact that she did not consciously know who I was she responded, “You know what? I love you too.” Love was the normal response for her. So let’s remember that sometimes cherishing the normal or ordinary is the best thing we can do, since we believe in the extraordinary.

The extraordinary thing we believe is that her spirit is in heaven, that she is with God now. We believe that she is part of the communion of saints, that great cloud of witnesses watching over us. We believe in the resurrection, and we believe that we will be reunited with her someday. This is the extraordinary hope. This is what we can cling to. So as hard as it is to face the fact that we will not see her again in this life, we believe that she is truly in a better place. We have the extraordinary hope that she is surrounded by the greatest love there is.

So here, we cherish the blessing of the ordinary time with Grandmama. The silly things she said, the shows she watched, the candy she ate, and the time we took out of our lives to just “be” with her. And we have the extraordinary hope that she is with the triune God who is perfect love. And that extraordinary hope comforts us during this time of mourning. What a blessing.