Today's post is a letter to my Grandma. At this point, she is still alive - although in a care home and slowly being lost to disease. In the last year, everything has changed with COVID and it's been far too long since I have been able to see her. I hold on to hope that one day I will see her again - even though I know it won't be the same.
Tonight, I'm reflecting on things. Things from my Grandma that are some of the biggest blessings in my life.
This time in our world has changed so much for so many. I know I'm not the only one who is dealing with things like this. I pray you might be encouraged to remember the good the blessings, even with the losses of this time. It doesn't change or remove the pain or the hard time, and we need to be honest about the emotions we're dealing with, but that doesn't mean we can't look for the good things too.
Dear Grandma,
It's been a year now since I saw you and gave you a hug.
Not by my choice. Because of circumstances I can't control.
I drive past the place where you currently live regularly, each time wishing I could pull into the parking lot and head up to your room for a visit.
From what I'm told now, the next time I visit you (if that day comes), it won't be the same. You likely won't remember we. Or even talk anymore.
I hate that this pandemic has stolen a year from us.
I wish I'd held on for one more minute the last time I gave you a hug.
I wish I'd just been there more.
Tonight, as I sit in your old rocking chair, the memories come back. The rocking chair that matched Grandpa's in the sitting area off your kitchen in your house by the lake. A chair that was a favourite place to sit then and still is today.
As I sit in the faded and worn rocking chair, I remember our conversations. The wisdom you freely shared. The encouragement that was always offered.
It's easy to be sad that I don't get the time near the end of your life's journey on earth that I wish I could have.
It's easy to be mad about what this pandemic has stolen from us.
It's easy to live in regret over what I did and didn't do in recent years in the time I had with you.
It's easy to be disappointed that I can't just pick up the phone and call you to ask a question about leading a Bible study or prayer or anything in life.
But, I hear your voice, reminding me that those aren't the places I really want to stay. Yes, feel the emotion. Don't push them away. Acknowledge and work through the pain and the sadness.
But, always look upward to Jesus. Keep my eyes focused on Him, whatever comes my way.
So, these days, I sit in your old rocking chair, now in my living room, and think back to all the things you would say as talked. Conversations in hours spent at your house, making buns or building train tracks.
I sit in your old rocking chair and remember the hours spent on the golf course together. Not just teaching me to play golf, but also always pointing me to the truth of God's Word and His ways.
I sit in your old rocking chair and read the commentaries I got from your bookshelf when you could no longer read. Seeing what spoke to you from what you highlighted and noted in the margins. A glimpse into the walk with God I saw in you and always admired. A challenge to keep going and keep trusting God, no matter what comes my way.
I love you. I miss you. And I hope that there is still one more day when I can see you and hug you again.
Your oldest grand-daughter, Tamara
