A few scattered thoughts

On September 1st I posted a Monday's Fabulous Moment about my grandma, and commented on how lucky I was that at 25 I still had all four of my grandparents. And just over a month later on October 3rd, that changed. My grandpa passed away at about 6:00 that morning after a perforated ulcer caused infection to spread through his body. He was 78 years old and while I knew in my head that these people won't live forever I realized in the shock of his death that I never actually believed it. He was tough. A Korean War hero. He was strong and courageous. I guess I just never thought a standard infection would be something that could take him, especially not as quickly as it did.

Grandpa died on Saturday and I flew home on Sunday. I walked into my aunt's house and wrapped my arms around my grandma, and through tears she said, "Your grandpa loved you so, so much. He was really proud of you." All those feelings of guilt, the whole why-do-I-live-so-far-away-from-my-family thoughts disappear when brought into that light. Because I know that we're not all called to simply stay put. God moves us around and brings us to the places that will be the most glorifying to Him.

"...and He made from one man every nation of mankind to live on all the face of the earth, having determined their appointed times and the boundaries of their habitation, that they would seek God, if perhaps they might grope for Him and find Him, though He is not far from each one of us; for in Him we live and move and exist..."
~Acts 17: 26-28

And I knew Grandpa was okay with that. I knew every time I talked to him and he'd say, "Hey Jen! How's Austin!?" I knew every time he started one of our phone conversations by asking me how the weather was. He was the kind of grandpa that let us kids ride his four wheeler down dirt roads and too close to ponds without requiring adult supervision. He was the kind of grandpa that taught us how to drive his van out in the field. The kind that I could be at total peace knowing that he genuinely was okay with me going wherever I needed to go in the world. Because of that, I could return home to my family that weekend, welcomed and loved like no time had passed since I was last with them.

The service was beautiful. A military funeral like he deserved. Up until this point, I had never been through the death of a close family member. I would see other people at funerals and visitations and they always seemed so...put together. I never understood it. I had heard of and read about "peace that surpasses all understanding," but until I had the opportunity to stand for 4 hours visiting with family members, talking to the pastor that would be doing grandpa's service, and seeing the box of his ashes sitting on a table surrounded by pictures of him, I had never felt that peace quite so obviously. I told one of my dad's cousins I felt like I had a God shield around me. There was just this calm in my heart, the same calm that I saw in my grandmother. The kind of calm that allowed me to tell the pastor stories and just laugh. The kind that allowed me to look at all the pictures and remember the good things and just smile. The kind of calm that doesn't really allow you to feel the depth of death all at once. It wasn't a fog like I always thought it might be. I was very coherent and remembering everything that happened, every conversation, every laugh.

It's like God just lets you have little pieces at a time though. If it all really sank in at once, we simply wouldn't make it through. But I believe there are times when you have to hand things over to God to carry. And then there are other times when He simply doesn't give you an option. He simply holds onto the heaviness, and brings it to you, piece by piece, as He deems necessary.

The time I had with my family that week was sweet. We went back to the land my grandparents lived on, one of two places that I've been able to call home from childhood to today. I'll soon be down to one place, my other grandparents' home, when that land gets sold. But I looked out at the pond and remembered my grandpa calling the fish in the morning, the fish who knew he was carrying food for them. I went into the woods and found the fort he had helped build for us when we were kids. I sat on the patio outside where he made the best barbecue in the world. I went in the room where I slept one summer and tried not to cry when I got waken up by coyotes howling. I sat at the kitchen table and ate soup with my grandma and we talked about how he made the best homemade french fries, and how he used to pick on me that of everything he cooked so well my favorite thing was french fries.

It really was just a precious time, leaning into my family and being given the opportunity to be leaned on every now and then. As the days have gone by, and I realize that a week ago today I came back to Austin. And a week before that I got the call that he was in the hospital. And the week before that it wasn't even a thought in my mind, I realize how powerless I am. And how powerful our God is. How sovereign. How sweet.

My grandma said it best that weekend: "This was the Lord's will." Thy will be done.