An Abundant Life...

Yesterday we celebrated my amazing Grandma's life -- 97 years of life that was fully lived to her very last breath.  Yes, we are heartbroken and many tears were shed, but her funeral was so uplifting and inspiring.  I wrote the following words the day she went to heaven and was able to share them at her funeral.  Although it's just a small taste of the remarkable woman she was, I hope those who read it catch a glimpse of the power of living a truly Christ-centered life.

My grandma was born the ninth of ten children, and apparently by the time she showed up, my great-grandparents were running low on names.  They only gave her one, and it suited her perfectly – Mabel, which means lovable.  And, she was loved by many, but only a select few had the privilege of calling her Grandma.

My childhood memories are filled to the brim with my grandma. Countless sleepovers.  Homemade, iron skillet breakfasts.  Sunday dinners.  DAILY phone calls.  Hers was the first number I’d ever memorized. 

I adored her.

I remember being pressed up against her terrycloth apron as she cut cantaloupe with her antiquated, black-bladed knife. 

I remember leaning on her hip as she loudly sang, Oh Victory in Jesus and Love Lifted Me in the pews of this very church. 

I remember chewing Freedent gum with her, her favorite because it didn’t stick to her dental work. 

I remember her silver thimbles and watching her meticulously craft her needlework.

I remember she only had one children’s book in her house, Mercer Meyer’s Just for You.  She read me that book every time I asked her to, most often as I was snuggled next to her silk nightgown before bed. 

I remember telling my mother that Grandma was my favorite person…

Many of you know that I was adopted into this family as an infant.  All adoptees have moments when they silently question if they are truly loved and accepted by their family. But I never once questioned that with my grandparents and certainly not with my grandma.  I knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that she loved me as much, if not a smidge more, than her biological grandkids. 

She only confirmed this to me on multiple occasions throughout my life.  When I had my daughter, we were discussing who she may have gotten her curly hair from.  As my grandma started listing off her relatives, I interrupted, “Grandma, I’m adopted!”  She laughed as she said, “You know, I don’t even think about that.  You’re just like us. Personality, your coloring, height… circumference.”  We both laughed and laughed.  God made me to be her granddaughter.  We were perfectly compatible in every way.

I was in kindergarten when my grandma embarked on her first missionary journey to American Samoa.  She was 70. 

I vividly remember weeping, no wailing, at the airport as we saw her off.  I’m sure I made quite a scene.  My heart was broken.  Grandma was such a huge part of my daily life that I just couldn’t handle the thought of her being that far away for so many months.  While in Samoa she taught school and shared the love of Christ with children there, who by her description, were underprivileged, under-loved, and many, physically abused. 

She loved teaching.  As I pursued my degree in elementary education, we spent hours talking over every detail of what I was learning, what my lessons were, classroom management… You name it.  Her soul lit up as she shared countless stories with me about her decades in the classroom.  I loved every minute of it.

She was born to teach and God used her gift for decades, and in numerous countries.  Her passion for Christ and for teaching consumed the next 10 years of her life following that tearful day at the airport, and we had to share Grandma with the world.  And I mean that.  Literally, the world…  Samoa, Thailand, China, Harlingen, TX and even Latvia.  We hated not having her near everyday, but gosh, were we proud of her.  And even though she traveled as much as she did, I still feel like she was always near.  I don’t know how else to explain it, but she just was…

My life changed dramatically when I was 12 as my parents’ marriage disintegrated.  It was a horrible, drawn out, devastation for my whole family, including my Grandma.  And she was so strong for me.  A pillar of stability, bringing peace to my turbulent world.

Grandma was no stranger to hardship.  I’ve always loved and revered my grandma but the older I’ve gotten, the more I’ve grown in my respect for her.  She was a working mom before that was even a thing.  She earned her degree while teaching full time and carrying the full weight of all the household duties and care for her children.  I honestly don’t know how she kept so many balls in the air – parenting, cooking, cleaning, teaching, college, all while being an active member of her church and maintaining close relationships with her dearly loved siblings.  And she did it all with excellence.

Another aspect of my grandma that I’ve grown to respect more and more over time was the grief and loss she’d endured.  She gave birth to four children within about as many years.  Her first daughter died before birth, but late enough in the pregnancy that my grandma had to deliver and bury her. Her oldest son, John, died in a motorcycle accident when he was just 16. And, my grandfather passed away months after I was born…  I knew all of these things my whole life, but the gravity of them didn’t sink in until I had a family of my own.  So much loss yielded so much strength and depth of character.

Until her dying day, she was so smart.  Sharper mentally than I’ll ever be.  A prolific reader.  Over the last decade, she gradually lost her eyesight to macular degeneration.  She had a machine that magnified her books so she could continue to read and must have spent a thousand hours in front of that screen.  Reading was a part of who she was.  After my beloved maternal grandfather, who’d suffered severe hearing loss, passed away last year, Grandma told me, “Joe is hearing with his own ears right now.  When I get to heaven, I’m going to read with my own eyes.”  And, I know she is!

Grandma is the last of my grandparents to go to heaven.  I don’t take for granted how blessed I am to have enjoyed my grandma for the past 33½ years.  I truly believe that my grandparents’ love was the closest I’ll know of God’s love in this life.  Recklessly unconditional.  Overwhelmingly abundant.  Full of delight.

Grandma, you lived a quiet life that loudly displayed the glory of God.  You weren’t perfect.  You never claimed to be. 

But you were wonderful and fiercely loyal. 

Intelligent and opinionated. 
A devoted democrat. 

Passionate and so gifted. 

Dignified. 

Generous. 

Hardworking. 

Dependable.

A woman of conviction.

Beautiful.

Loving.

Faithful. 

Honorable.

One of a kind… My Grandma.

I thank God for you. 

Your life has made me, and God only knows how many others, love Him more. 

Welcome Home.