The Most Important Thing...

I've been thinking about just how to write this post with out hurting anyone for awhile... A few months ago I was at my grandmother's memorial service in California. Throughout the service family and close friends that knew my grandma while we lived in California stood and talked about her life.

She was a wonderful mother, she was always there, she helped me raise my kids, she was strong, she basically lived two lives one as a wife and a mother another as a widow, her door was always open, she treated my friends as one of the family, you walked in the door once and you weren't a friend you were family, everyone loved her, she loved big band music, she was always there with a joke, or some sort of good natured prank, she had a larger than life sweet tooth (I still think we should have brought ice cream to the memorial), she was a lady... The pastor came to the microphone and said something about the word he kept hearing through out was "Love".

Sure that was up there... but if they were trying to tell a stranger about her, the stranger wouldn't know the best part because they all missed it. Maybe its because they live hundreds of miles away and didn't get to see her often, What they all missed was, that she was an amazing Christian woman. She would spend time on her knees praying for each of her children and grandchildren by name, even when her hip caused her so much pain that she was crying, even when she had to ask everyone's names because she couldn't quite remember, That is how she would want to be remembered, as a Christian. Because that is who she was. She loved everyone like He loved her.

A pastor at a church we used to go told my mom once that every Sunday he looked for grandma because she always had the light of Christ on her. That is the best way I can think of to describe her. She was a Christian, pure and simple. Sure, she wasn't perfect, but there is only one person I know that is. I still remember how I told her I wanted to go on a missions trip when I graduate and she asked if she could come with me. I graduate in about a year and half... I wish we could have done it together.

Recently I was reading a devotional called Not A Fan (great book by the way. They have a Teen Student & Adult versions ). In the last Chapter it talked about a man named William Borden. After he passed away they found written in the back of his bible "No reserves. No retreat. No regrets." I think those six words describe her pretty well. Ok so she didn't make it big, she doesn't have a monument to her, she didn't end world hunger, or find the cure to cancer. But she did change peoples lives. she left everyone she met with a hug and a smile on their face.

The most important thing is... She was a great follower...

Today On Your Birthday Grandma We Remember You

 The house is still...  a piano plays softly on the radio. 

Ice and snow cover the ground outside. 

Lunch is finished and the dishes sit in the dish strainer. 

It's just another day... 

Its just another day, but its not just another day. It's your birthday! 

How do you wish someone a "Happy Birthday" in a place where there is no sadness? Memories slip through my mind... you are in them all. 

Decorating the tree, birthdays, Easter, 4th Of July, Ballet class, Thanksgiving, Choir performances, Church, New Years, Sledding, BBQ's, horse competition two summers ago, Bonfires with friends as you watched over us, swimming in the pool as you sat on the porch to make sure we were ok, gardening, holding baby animals that I brought home, chickens, turkeys, quail, rabbits, a puppy, a cat. Making cookies with you. car rides and musicals. So many good times... and you are there in every one.

Happy Birthday Grandma Cottage. 

Waiting To Exhale

It feels like I have been holding my breath for so long...

Like I have been trapped in never ending waves. Crashing... Crushing... Bending... Drowning...

My lungs burn... It's been a long year, a long couple of years. So many bad memories. So many bad days.

My feet touch the sand and it feels like a weight slightly lifts from my chest. The sunshine warms my skin, the breeze tugs my hair free from its braid. The waves wash across the sand wetting my feet and dragging the pain back as it recedes again.

My finger slips through the sand, a name, a year. A wave rolls in white and blue... erasing it like a canvas. With each new word the weight lifts a little more. Until finally I can let out my breath. I draw another one in and exhale...

The cold water chills my feet a little as I walk a long the water line picking up small bits of shell. All broken in someway or another but all beautiful.

Small chips of blue, larger pieces of white shells a few rose color pieces, a see-through piece, a larger gray one. My hand fills with them. The broken places worn smooth by the sand and the wave. They remind me of people... battered, broken, Holes where life was rough and ripped holes in our hearts. Do they realize how beautiful their brokenness is? I hold one up to the light and the sunlight pour though the holes and chipped areas... Do they know that? Do we know that? That through the broken places in us His light pours through. Shells are beautiful whole... but I think they are even more beautiful broken...

The Quilt Holes

As I faced my Maker at the last judgment, I knelt before the Lord along with all the other souls. Before each of us laid our lives like the squares of a quilt in many piles; an angel sat before each of us sewing our quilt squares together into a tapestry that was our life.

But as my angel took each piece of cloth off the pile, I noticed how ragged and empty each of my squares was. They were filled with giant holes. Each square was labeled with a part of my life that had been difficult, the challenges and temptations I was faced with in everyday life. I saw hardships that I endured, which were the largest holes of all. 

I glanced around me. Nobody else had such squares. Other than a tiny hole here and there, the other tapestries were filled with rich color and the bright hues of worldly fortune. I gazed upon my own life and was disheartened. 

My angel was sewing the ragged pieces of cloth together, threadbare and empty, like binding air. 

Finally, the time came when each life was to be displayed, held up to the light, the scrutiny of truth. The others rose, each in turn, holding up their tapestries. So filled their lives had been. My angel looked upon me and nodded for me to rise. 

My gaze dropped to the ground in shame. I hadn't had all the earthly fortunes. I had love in my life and laughter. But there had also been trials of illness and wealth, and false accusations that took from me my world, as I knew it. I had to start over many times. I often struggled with the temptation to quit, only to somehow muster the strength to pick up and begin again. I spent many nights on my knees in prayer, asking for help and guidance in my life. I had often been held up to ridicule, which I endured painfully, each time offering it up to the Father in hopes that I would not melt within my skin beneath the judgmental gaze of those who unfairly judged me. 

And now, I had to face the truth: My life was what it was, and I had to accept it for what it was. 

I rose and slowly lifted the combined squares of my life to the light. An awe-filled gasp filled the air. I gazed around at the others who stared at me with wide eyes. 

Then, I looked upon the tapestry before me. Light flooded the many holes, creating an image: the face of Christ. Then our Lord stood before me, with warmth and love in His eyes. He said, "Every time you gave over your life to Me, it became My life, My hardships, and My struggles. 

"Each point of light in your life is when you stepped aside and let Me shine through until there was more of Me than there was of you." 

May all our quilts be threadbare and worn, allowing Christ to shine through!

(Couldn't find the author but if this work is yours please let me know and I will give credit where credit is due)

Goodbye Grandma Cottage | California Trip Day 3

We woke up early… The house is so quiet. Brianna and I stand in the bathroom getting dressed and sharing a small mirror to put on makeup… the small window is open and a bird is singing softly. The sunrise is so beautiful. Brianna runs and grabs the camera out of my purse.

Dad and Uncle Paul call us to breakfast. Brianna races down the stairs, I snag my high-heels on the way out the door. Aunt Debbie smiles slightly at me as I walk by her door heading for the steps. “Good morning” She says. Then I’m sitting on a stool at the breakfast bar explaining to Uncle Paul that no matter how "healthy" fried eggs are I don’t want one, but I would like some potatoes and bacon. Sunlight streams through the windows. The house is so quiet compared to last night. My Aunt Lisa walks through almost in tears and heads up stairs to get ready. Bacon sizzles away on the stove. Even Uncle Paul seems to be trying extra hard to be his normal funny self. But how do you laugh and look on the bright side on a day like this? When all you want to do is curl in a ball and cry.

Uncle Paul asks where his wife is and then yells “Honey?” Mr. Cottage answers and he starts laughing saying he doesn't like Mr. Cottage THAT much. We have to find money to pay the Pianist, pastor and lights and sound guys. Aunt Debbie paces in one taller blue high-heel one shorter tan high-heel. It would be funny any other day…  Down stairs my uncles are discussing a what my electrician uncle calls a “prehistoric” light fixture that my plummer uncle says needs to be changed. Those two… Its 10:30, time to head to church. We pile in the cars, Aunt Debbie calling out last minute instructions. We slip quickly into traffic and before I know it we’re at the church. It’s drizzling, Uncle Paul and Uncle Doug drove separately and have all the umbrellas. Aunt Debbie is waiting in the car for Uncle Doug to arrive with an umbrella so she doesn't ruin her hair style on the way in. I silently wonder how fast I can walk in these high-heels… oh well too late to change now.

People begin arriving, most I haven’t seen since I was two. I recognize my aunts and uncles and a few cousins, but for the most part I can’t remember anyone. I hug them anyway as they step up and say “I haven’t seen you since you were this high” and they hold up their hands. I’m sucking on cough drops like they are candy… every time they melt I start coughing again. It’s time to go in and sit down, most people already have. We make our way down to the front row “the spit zone” as our old pastor called it and join the rest of the family. Uncle Paul looks at the flyer thing they handed us when we walked in, then leans over and whispers to Mr. Cottage “Hey I want to share memories, I have a great one’s of us…” I can only imagine what he would say… I love him but a filter he does not have. Mr. Cottage chuckles. I start coughing again as I drag out another cough drop. My cousin leans forward and asks if I’m ok, I nod because I’m still coughing. When I can finally answer her I tell her I have a cold and she gives me a sad face, another cousin behind me whispers that she does too.

The service starts with a picture slide show video and music because the pastor is late. “Aww’s” and chuckles alternate as the photos scroll across the screen… so many good years. Two of my cousins start sobbing holding each other.  Finally the pastor arrives, he says something short and then Aunt Debbie stands up and shares her favorite memories. She pulls out a letter from a cousin in the mid west that could not attend. Tears slip down everyone’s cheeks. Aunt Debbie stops, trying so hard to get through it and not start sobbing as she speaks. She takes a deep breath and starts again. Than my cousin Eric stands and says how much he loved Grandma and that she was an amazing woman. His brother Shane takes his place, and tells everyone about a time Grandma Cottage was trying to get him to take a nap as a kid. He kept begging her not to make him sleep, that he wasn't tired. He told us that she was standing behind a see-through canopy with the light from the window behind her. And she just said close your eyes for a moment. He started crying again and had to stop for a minute before he could go on. “And she just looked so beautiful...” Then he talked about how she took him to school on his first day of kindergarten and he was so scared and didn't want to go. She sat in the back of the class for a while and then suddenly he turned around and she was gone. He got up and ran out in the hall shouting “Grandma! Grandma!” when he caught her he said what are you doing? You can’t go! So she came back with him and sat for a while longer until he wasn't paying attention and slipped away silently.

The room was quiet again, no one else stood to talk.  The only noise was quiet crying and the crinkle of tissue wiping tears.  Just before the pastor stood up again Mrs. Cottage stood up and turned around surprising me. “I just want you to know how much she loved you… You guys were her life. She never met a single person who wasn't family to her. You came to the house you were not or a visitor but you were family. Stranger, school mate, co-worker, roommate, sailor you were family. She prayed for you guys every single day… right up to the end. A while ago she told me ‘I just want to see everyone there, I want everyone to be together.’ So be there. Please. Be there...” Then the pastor stood up and spoke but I can’t remember what he said because I was crying too hard. My single Kleenex has turned to a wad of it. Then we all made our way out… a tear sodden mess. The reception is at my Cousin Eric’s house down the street… we start a long caravan of cars all headed for the same place. We pull in the driveway and Mr. Cottage hops out to direct parking… turning the end of the street into a parking lot. It’s kind of funny to watch. Especially when Uncle Paul and Uncle Doug pull in… I don’t think those two could follow directions if they wanted to.

***

Martha known to friends as “Marty”, “Mom” or simply “Grandma” was born to Lula and Alfred.  She was the youngest of 8 children. She married her sweet-heart Claude a U.S Navy Veteran that served in WWII, in Ohio. They had six children together.

Those that were privileged enough to meet her instantly fell in love with her amazing heart and immediately felt welcome in her presence. She was quick with a bright smile, a warm hug, a witty come back and a larger than life sweet-tooth. She was first and foremost a Christian and could often be found on her knees in prayer for her family and those she loved.  Her God and her family always came first. She often sat at the kitchen table reading her bible until the day that her eyes failed her and she could no longer read the print. It broke her heart.

 On November 20 surrounded by her loved ones she fell victim to the grim monster that calls when we least expect it, death. With whom she has struggled with for several days. The end came around 10:45 AM. which is really not the end… but a beginning of a life which is eternal. Here is where she waits for her family and dances with those that she loved so dearly who have passed before her. Many prayed that this amazing lady would stay with them for many more years but her summons had come and she had to obey. Though her family and friends mourn the loss of such an amazing lady they rejoice in the fact that she is not lost, but waiting for them to join her.

Marty is predeceased by her husband, Claude and her daughter Tina and all of her sisters, but her legacy survives in her 5 remaining children, 17 grandchildren, 20 great-grandchildren and countless others she considered family. Whether a family friend, an orphan, a homeless soul or a sailor hundreds of miles from home; we live on to tell of her love.  When asked her greatest wish she was quick to say that all of her family would meet her in heaven.

May the God of grace and mercy comfort the hearts that loved her, and mend the broken hearts until they are all together again…

Keep up with our adventures. Day 2 Day 4

I know Just What You'd Say...

The house is so quiet, so still. How can life change so fast? Your clothes are still hanging in your closet. Your bed is still made where I made it the day after you went to the hospital. I walk through your room so still. Everything just the same... or almost just the same.  The night light in the bathroom is off. Your cane rests in the corner of the room instead of in your hand. 

Despite the heater humming your room seems so cold. Like stepping outside on a snowy morning and knowing no one else is out. Your footsteps seem to echo over the frozen ground. 

I can't stand to stay in this room long but sometimes I just can't stay away. I half smile at the boxes of Christmas village stacked in one of your closets that you loved so much. How many years did we put it out together? How much fun we had as I handed you things to put out and smiled up at you telling you if it was "the perfect spot" which of course it was... perching on a ladder with steaming hot cups of coco on freezing morning putting Christmas lights up. 

And then one year we switched, I was the one on the top of the ladder you at the bottom smiling up.  Oh how you loved Christmas! And then as the years went on, I did more by myself but the light was still there in your eyes. Making you almost look like a small child filled with the magic of Christmas... But as the years went on that to began to dim... until only at certain moments could you see it in your blue eyes. But it was still there. I can almost hear your voice in my mind as I run my hand over the rough cardboard boxes. 

I know just what you’d say…

You’d say “oh my goodness” and “I love you honey”.  “Do you want to spend the night?”, “Can I pray for you?”. And with that guilty look of yours and a hand over your heart “Who me?” followed by a twinkle in your eye and “How could you think so?” 

“Drive carefully," - even if you’re just walking “I pray a hedge of protection around you and your car” or “Lord surround their car with angels” and “Can I sing you a song?” 

You see Grandma I know just what you'd say... "It so nice to see you," "Do we have anything sweet?"  "Ice Cream sounds good" and "Bless you heart". And "I need to blow my nose."

You would pray every day for your children and grandchildren, on your knees even when it hurt to do so.  When you would hear of a need you were quick to offer help, love, a place for those that needed a home.  You stood in the cold serving food you helped cook for the homeless and you were not afraid to love on the ones that stood before you. Strangers became family in the blink of an eye.  Sailors hundreds of miles away from their family found family in your arms.  Those hurting and needing a home found a place of love and care seldom seen in this world.  Orphans became grand children in the blink of an eye.  You held nothing back from anyone.

I can still hear your voice as we sit around the table... and I know just what you'd say... Faith plops down beside me with a sigh and I know just what you'd say, " What's wrong pooch?" 

The Most Important thing to me is ending up in heaven and having all of my children and grandchildren make it there, so be there everyone. - Martha Gibson 1996

For Everything There Is A Season - To Grandma

Your breaths come further and further apart.

We stand around your bed as the sunshine streams in the window with tears running down our faces. The door squeals as it opens and your sweet nurse enters with tears in her eyes, and she joins our huddled group.

Christmas carols play softly. You love Christmas so much... Sirens in the distance mark another ambulance's path and another life forever changed. You have touched so many lives. You are loved so much. A friend slips in and comes to your side, it is agony to watch the monitor as seconds pass with out a breath but its even worse not to watch. How did we get to this point?  I'm so tired.

I'll be home for Christmas... If only in my dreams...

Notifications pop up on my Facebook from friends and family sharing old pictures of you and words that though they are hundreds of miles away to be whispered in your ear.

There is a time for everything,

 and a season for every activity under the heavens:

    a time to be born and a time to die,

 a time to plant and a time to uproot,

    a time to kill and a time to heal,



    a time to tear down and a time to build, 

    a time to weep and a time to laugh,

    a time to mourn and a time to dance,

    a time to scatter stones and a time to gather them,

    a time to embrace and a time to refrain from embracing,

    a time to search and a time to give up

,

    a time to keep and a time to throw away,

    a time to tear down and a time to mend,

    a time to be silent and a time to speak,

    a time to love and a time to hate,

    a time for war and a time for peace. 

Ecclesiastes 3:1-8 

Goodbye grandma...

Waiting with you...

I watch your vital signs on the monitor.  I watch your life-sustaining breaths grow further apart and more ragged.  I listen to phone calls coming in – final words being spoken and I wonder.  I wonder why do we leave things undone and unsaid.  

Everyone with smartphone and iPhone in their pockets and purses but why are we all really so unconnected.  There is Facebook and Twitter and still mostly it is just meaningless. 

RELATED POST: When all that you have left are Friends And A Savior - 

 I think for all of our so-called connected-ness in our modern age I think we really are one of the most unconnected societies.  Sound bytes and 140 characters but where is the heart?  A check in from Starbucks and Chicago O’Hare but how is your family?  A photo from Chuck E Cheese and a day at the beach but are you really happy?  Can I pray for you? What is a burden you are carrying?  You had a cheeseburger today and you like a vegan pumpkin pie recipe but what is your joy? What burden are you carrying that I can walk with you through and help you carry?  You see for all of this connectedness, the heart and soul of communication lay withering on the vine.

RELATED POST: I Will Stay With You The Rest Of Your Days -

We get so busy with the business of life.  With the pulse of our daily duty - the breathing in and breathing out of life, work, commute, doing…  We miss out on so much.  Relationships are not found in sound bytes but in the walking out of life.

RELATED POST: It's Just My Reflection In A Hosptial Window -

Your breathing is more ragged now and tears stream down my cheeks as I think of all the words that have been left unspoken because of the business of life. Is it worth it?

RELATED POST: Saying Goodbye Grandma Cottage - California Day 3 

Again they say you have only hours and we watch the lengthening flat lines appear where breaths should be and then a ragged breath and your frail chest rises once again.  You are so small and helpless in that great big hospital bed.  I know that healing and restoration is awaiting you when Jesus comes to take you home.

Then that part of me, that selfish part of me- as the flat line crosses the screen my heart screams inside of me No! Not yet!  Don’t leave me yet! Oh selfish, selfish heart.  Another breath comes and I breathe again, realizing I too am holding my breath until my lungs burn at the holding of it.

Friends And Savior

You have come on your lunch hour to see her.  I tell her you are here and she says “Oh for goodness sakes!”  I am surprised at her speaking because it has been so long since she has spoken. You look at us briefly then you are looking again beyond us at something we cannot see.  Then you begin to speak.  “Oh, oh how nice!”   “Pretty”  “Jesus – yes – yes”. 

Oh, if we could only see with our eyes what you are seeing.  Oh, the beauty of the hope that is beyond this life.  The beauty that you have gone to prepare for us.  How glorious it must be. 

John 14;1-3 "Do not let your heart be troubled; believe in God, believe also in Me. "In My Father's house are many dwelling places; if it were not so, I would have told you; for I go to prepare a place for you. "If I go and prepare a place for you, I will come again and receive you to Myself, that where I am, there you may be also.…

Revelation 21:20-22 the fifth, sardonyx; the sixth, sardius; the seventh, chrysolite; the eighth, beryl; the ninth, topaz; the tenth, chrysoprase; the eleventh, jacinth; the twelfth, amethyst. And the twelve gates were twelve pearls; each one of the gates was a single pearl. And the street of the city was pure gold, like transparent glass. I saw no temple in it, for the Lord God the Almighty and the Lamb are its temple.…

Revelation 4:6 Also in front of the throne there was what looked like a sea of glass, clear as crystal. In the center, around the throne, were four living creatures, and they were covered with eyes, in front and in back.

Revelation 21:18 The wall was made of jasper, and the city of pure gold, as pure as glass.

Revelation 22:2 Down the middle of the great street of the city. On each side of the river stood the tree of life, bearing twelve crops of fruit, yielding its fruit every month. And the leaves of the tree are for the healing of the nations.