Sometimes, we have to practice what we preach and it's harder than we think it will be.
I lost my beloved Grandma on January 18, 2018. I got a call that day from my dad at 2:59pm that less than a week after getting a pacemaker, she had a brain hemorrhage and probably had hours left. By 5pm, I was in a rental car rushing to Iowa. This was my grandma who was like a second mom to me, and this was a shocking turn of events as she was "supposed" to be home that following weekend because she had done "so well" in her recovery. None of us were super worried about her because the doctors were happy with her progress. This wasn't the plan, she was supposed to be home in a couple of days. Now, I found myself sobbing and trying to get to her as soon as I could. I was hoping in my heart of hearts to get to say goodbye to this woman who had loved me and was so supportive of me throughout my life.
I was driving through the Dubuque area with all of its hills. I lost reception for over half an hour. I was thinking through what I wanted to say to my grandma. I really had no clear thoughts. Then it came to me, "Say hi to Jesus for me." There was that phrase, and then radio silence in my head and in my vehicle. About ten minutes later, I recovered reception to my cell and several minutes later, I received my dad's text..."Grandma passed." I cannot explain it, but I knew in my heart that she had. After I thought of that phrase, there was nothing else. I knew in my heart she was gone.
The next days were filled with planning of a funeral service that none of us had planned on. Days full of tears and hugs. I had volunteered (and the family agreed) to let me do my grandma's eulogy. It was an honor and I made it all the way through with only a mild break in the middle. In my own way, I got to "make it" to her bedside, even without officially making it. I wanted to honor my grandma, with all of her quirks and imperfections while still highlighting the big difference she made for many people, and with the reviews from church and family members, I believe I did.
But after all the "business" that had to be accomplished in terms of funeral preparations, we still have to go home. We still have to figure out what life looks like when the puzzle of our lives missing a piece. Studying to be a counselor, I've talked with many people about grief, including several talks with my grandpa this past week. He's an army man and loves planning and details, but being the great army man he was, he had to put his feelings to the side for the purpose of plans to get the job done. I talked with him about the importance of remembering that there is no "plan" for grief and its accompanying emotions. As we all had to go our separate ways and continue on in life, there will be minutes, hours and days where the grief will feel as real as it does now. It could be a sight, a sound, a smell that brings grandma's memory back to us and make the grief real all over again. What I told him was, "Lean in to the discomfort of grief and its accompanying emotions. Don't run away. Running away or suppressing them can make it worse." I also encouraged him to find his new "normal" and find things that bring him life and purpose. There is a balance between the aspects of life that he will have to find for himself.
But as I came home, I realized I needed to heed my own advice. I've been exhausted, teary and moody for the last three days in being home. I don't mean to be. Even reflecting on the funeral and eulogy as well as the life of my grandma and what she meant to me, means that my feelings are raw too. I took care of the "business" aspects of it too while in Iowa, and I came home and now need to decompress. I'm used to being a level-headed and kind individual on a lot of days, and I have been neither of those things since I came home. This is hard and humbling for me. I've had to ask for forgiveness and sleep more than normal. But, I also need to listen to my own advice. I need to embrace the discomfort of not "being myself" because suppressing it will make it worse for me too. I'm good at being busy and can use busyness to ignore my own feelings and needs. However, I need to allow the feelings to be what they are and not judge myself. I need to take a nap if I feel I need to. I need to accept that I am not okay right now and that in and of itself is okay. I will find my new normal, while still acknowledging that I've lost an important piece of my life when I lost my grandma. I don't know what grief will look like in the days to come, when it will hit, how hard the wave will hit, but I trust Jesus to carry me through the grief just as he carried my grandma up to his side. He is the One who carries us all and keeps us rooted in himself. While this wasn't my plan, it was always his plan, and I have to trust him in that too.
The biggest demonstration of grace has been given to me by my husband. I've needed naps. I've cried during my own birthday dinner over the smallest things. I've lashed out over nothing. Yet, he has been so kind. He has offered hugs and to take the kids. He has told me how much he loves me, while admitting that I am not acting like "myself" because he knows that grief is hard (he lost his own sister a year and a half earlier). He has spoken of how I saw him through the crushing blow of losing his sister and now he is here for me to do the same. This is the HARD stuff of marriage. When one falls apart, how does the other support? This is not the stuff of fairy tales. This is not happily ever after. This is the nitty gritty of life, in the scary moments and the moments of great loss. The days where you don't recognize your spouse because they've lost themselves. When you say "for better or worse," there are guarantees that the "worse" days will arrive. This world is broken, it is broken by sin, ugliness, loss and loneliness. We will inevitably experience these things over and over again. This is why who we marry matters. It is easy to get caught up in butterflies and flowers when you're newly in love, but when the rubber of life hits the road, the foundation of friendship, trust and honor are the things that either appear or they do not. You find what your relationship is really made of, which can be a scary prospect. It doesn't mean that we always handle things right or well, but that there is effort made to pick up the other's slack when they are immobilized by life's pain and brokenness. With this in mind, I want to talk about these things with my daughters about their choice in a mate. When it all breaks down, who will be in your corner? Who will do their best to show you the grace you need when you aren't sure of what you need at all? These are important questions for them to ask themselves. I can't make their partner choices for them, but I do want to help them think about it well, if I can help. Their father is such a good example of what it is to catch the other when they fall. I pray my girls can find a man willing to go the extra mile to love and care for them when they experience grief and hardship. But today, I'm so grateful for a husband who has shown me more grace than I deserve, thus showing even more the power of the Cross and the forgiveness of Jesus.
I don't know where this road of grief will lead, but I trust that the God that led my grandma safely home will also continue to lead me through the purpose-filled life he has for me.
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