Remembering

It was a hot, beautiful, gut-wrenching, sacred day. It was a gift from God.

For months my grandmother's health has been in decline. She was born nearly 91 years ago; in fact, she shares Rachel's August 24th birthday (although she swears they got the date wrong on her birth certificate, and her birth date was actually August 23rd!). After a series of minor heart attacks, she was released from the hospital last week, and several days later, her body truly began to shut down.

Danny and I had planned to make a family trip to Wooster to see her next weekend. But with Mom keeping Karis and my sister Hannah's little girl Esther for a couple of days, Hannah and I decided to make the trip yesterday. Danny's parents kept Mr. Moo for the day, so between the 2 of us we only had 4 kiddos - much more manageable for us and easier on Grandma!

From the time we planned the trip, this plea played through my mind on continual repeat: God, please give me one more chance to share your magnificent gospel with her! Just one more chance . . . She's faithfully attended church most of her life; still, I've never been sure where she's stood with Christ, and I confess I haven't been as intentional about talking with her about spiritual things as I wish I'd been.

It was clear from the moment we entered her room that Grandma didn't have much more time. After 91 years, she was tired. A brief time with her before lunch revealed a mind still sharp (in its few waking moments), but a body completely worn out. We went for lunch with our Aunt Sandy and cousin Deb, and then came back to spend some more time with Grandma, intending to leave by 2:30.

Around 2:00, Sandy and Deb left to get some much-needed rest. Hannah took the kiddos out to feed fish & ducks at a nearby pond. And I got to say good-bye.

If I allow myself to dwell on it too much, I cringe, recalling my faltering words. I've since thought of so many things I wanted to say, or should have said, and didn't. She was in and out of a semi-wakeful state, never fully focused, so only God knows how much she heard, how much she was able to process. I quoted Psalm 23 several times, sang to her, and shared again the hope that comes from trusting in the blood of Christ, God's Son, to cover our sins and make us righteous before a holy God - about the everlasting life only He can give! And I prayed with all my heart that somehow, somewhere in her mind it made sense. I know that over the past few years, Hannah and others in our family have had these conversations with her as well, and I have to rest in knowing that she's heard and knows the truth, and hoping she's surrendered to it.

I took the kiddos out when Hannah came back, and she had a chance to say her good-byes. We both knew it was the last time we'd see her alive, which is probably why we ended up staying a couple of hours longer than we'd planned. We could hardly bring ourselves to leave. And then, we received an unexpected gift: she woke up. Completely and fully. Hannah and I, and all of the kiddos, got to give her kisses and hugs, and then she kissed us all and told us she loved us.

Around 1:30 this morning, she died. It took me by surprise - I thought she'd be around for another week, or at least a few days. And I keep thinking what a gift it was, that God put it in our hearts to visit her yesterday. And that we actually got to say good-bye. I pray like crazy that her soul is with Christ . . . and hold to the hope that only God knows the heart.

I have known few people who have worked as hard as my Grandma. Her life was anything but easy. Grandpa, who died of Alzheimer's about 10 years ago, farmed and she spent her days working in a brush factory. They never had an overabundance of money, yet she took us girls shopping for school clothes every year while we were growing up. When I mentioned that I'd like to try making applesauce, she took me right out and bought me the supplies - a strainer, a bowl, and a wooden mallet! Even though I've since learned of much easier and more time-efficient ways to make applesauce, I will continue to use these tools, because I like knowing I'm making it the same way Grandma did for so many years. She made beautiful quilts, by hand. If you asked her for a recipe, she'd laugh. She had a way of throwing a bunch of ingredients together and producing the most delectable dishes. Thanksgiving truly was a feast at her house, as was any other meal we happened to eat there!

And she always made me laugh. We have a store room full of "Grandma Miller-isms" that I think will live on for a long time. She never could sit still for more than 30 seconds. She was always moving, always working, always ready to get on to the next thing. She stuffed us with junk food and let us watch TV. We spent many happy hours exploring the creek behind her and Grandpa's condominium after they sold the farm; and roller-skating up and down their road. During our earlier childhood, we loved playing in the hayloft and visiting the animals. I'll never forget that honest, earthy smell.

And I'll never forget you, Grandma. You are forever a part of our lives and you will be missed.