They say that Sunday is the Lord's Day. I always believed that, and would say things like, "But really every day is the Lord's day," and give an ornery grin. I've always gone to church on Sundays, but other than that I never felt like it was really much different than any other day, or any more of the Lord's than a Thursday afternoon. Sunday, March 5, that changed. That was the Lord's day. It might not have been a big day for you, but for me, it was the day He quickly and swiftly caused my kingdom to fall (direct reference to "More of You" by Colton Dixon). Since then, God has been completely restructuring my ideas of what my life should look like.
As you may know in December 2016, I was diagnosed with endometriosis. I took it hard. Two put it simply as possible, for these two reasons: I lost hope for getting better and my fear of never having a child was brought one step closer to reality. I don't know anyone else with endo, so I don't know how they handled the diagnosis, but I feel like I did not take it with as much stride as most women. I spent the beginning of 2017 coming to terms with the diagnosis. I felt that I had made significant progress for the first few months. I got frustrated during a flare, but it didn't consume me like it had before. I felt that I was going places. I was gaining traction, I was becoming more social than I had been in a long time, and I would say my anxiety was lower than it had been in a long time. I had built up a nice little kingdom. I was high on life.
March 5, 2017, I lost my grandma (technically great-great-grandma). When I think back to that day, the most vivid memory I have is me pacing my dorm, too sad to cry, completely alone. I went to church that night. I don't remember what we talked about. I just remember staring at the pages of my Bible too preoccupied to even make my eyes focus in on the text. I went back to my room, laid in bed, and the tears began flow. I woke up the next morning so overcome with sadness. I know I dressed nice in hopes of avoiding anyone suspecting anything was wrong, but a pretty blouse and make-up wouldn't hide the little puddle of tears that seemed to remain in my eyes. The rest of the week followed suit. Saturday the 11th was the first day of Spring Break. Rather than spending the morning getting ready for a fun trip, I prepared myself for a funeral. I tried not to cry, but as I slipped on my dress I couldn't help but think, I bought this for Valentine's Day, I didn't think it would end up being a funeral dress. From there, the crying that day never really ceased. I would cry till there were no more tears, but that couldn't stop me. The supply would be replenished, and in no time, my face would be soaked and shiny yet again. On the way to the cemetery, I had a very distinct thought. I just knew that because my grandma had passed away, the world as a whole had lost some of its goodness. I know my emotions had me rather irrational that day, but that thought was the thought that sparked a million others.
Maybe my world will always be a little worse, but the world doesn't have to be.
That day and the next couple of weeks following, I lost more people than my grandma for various reasons. I felt more alone than I ever had (or have for that matter), and can honestly say that March was the hardest month of my life. Through it all, my beloved grandmother was a guiding light.
In her life, she was a loving, caring, generous, and most importantly, forgiving person. That woman gave herself to those around her. To set the scene, she was unable to have children, so she is only technically related by marriage, the step-mom of my great-grandma who's mother passed away. Once her husband passed away, she could have chose to walk away from our family forever. This was all before I was born, so had she chosen that route, I would have never been graced with her presence. She didn't, though. She bestowed 100% unconditional love onto my family, a choice that was so selfless and gracious that I'm sure even the angels were impressed. On top of this, she was incredibly generous. I cannot say the exact amount because she didn't wave it around like a banner of self-righteousness, but I know she donated tens of thousands of dollars (if not more) to her local church to build a gymnasium for the children to have game nights. I never heard her talk about this. I learned from my mom, who isn't sure of the amount, herself. I mentioned in my post, "Hello, Spring." a story about her the depicted how caring she was. I didn't know her in her "prime," and most of the stories I have are those that have been handed down from those who are older than me in my family. One day, though, in the last few months of her life, I got to personally witness and experience the depths of her love and care. I was visiting her one afternoon, she wasn't feeling well, and seemed to be elsewhere mentally. In a moment of clarity, she looked me in the eyes and asked if I needed anything. Through her pain and confusion, she thought of me. In a moment that she could have neglected everyone around her, she didn't.
I suppose I could go on and on about her and her legacy. The bottom line is, I have never known anyone who is as loving, gracious, or forgiving as her. Instead of letting those traits die with her, I want to do my best to carry them on. Although I will probably never achieve them on the levels that she did, I will try my hardest. I will love when it's hard (1 John 4:19 and 1 Corinthians 13). I will do my best to be gracious to those who have hurt me. And above all, I will forgive because I have been forgiven. Through these past six months, I realize that the qualities that she embodied are what really matter in life. People come and go, they can help or hurt you - often times they find a way to do both, and you might have to face your biggest fears, but if you can do so with love, grace, and forgiveness, you have succeeded.
As you may know in December 2016, I was diagnosed with endometriosis. I took it hard. Two put it simply as possible, for these two reasons: I lost hope for getting better and my fear of never having a child was brought one step closer to reality. I don't know anyone else with endo, so I don't know how they handled the diagnosis, but I feel like I did not take it with as much stride as most women. I spent the beginning of 2017 coming to terms with the diagnosis. I felt that I had made significant progress for the first few months. I got frustrated during a flare, but it didn't consume me like it had before. I felt that I was going places. I was gaining traction, I was becoming more social than I had been in a long time, and I would say my anxiety was lower than it had been in a long time. I had built up a nice little kingdom. I was high on life.
March 5, 2017, I lost my grandma (technically great-great-grandma). When I think back to that day, the most vivid memory I have is me pacing my dorm, too sad to cry, completely alone. I went to church that night. I don't remember what we talked about. I just remember staring at the pages of my Bible too preoccupied to even make my eyes focus in on the text. I went back to my room, laid in bed, and the tears began flow. I woke up the next morning so overcome with sadness. I know I dressed nice in hopes of avoiding anyone suspecting anything was wrong, but a pretty blouse and make-up wouldn't hide the little puddle of tears that seemed to remain in my eyes. The rest of the week followed suit. Saturday the 11th was the first day of Spring Break. Rather than spending the morning getting ready for a fun trip, I prepared myself for a funeral. I tried not to cry, but as I slipped on my dress I couldn't help but think, I bought this for Valentine's Day, I didn't think it would end up being a funeral dress. From there, the crying that day never really ceased. I would cry till there were no more tears, but that couldn't stop me. The supply would be replenished, and in no time, my face would be soaked and shiny yet again. On the way to the cemetery, I had a very distinct thought. I just knew that because my grandma had passed away, the world as a whole had lost some of its goodness. I know my emotions had me rather irrational that day, but that thought was the thought that sparked a million others.
Maybe my world will always be a little worse, but the world doesn't have to be.
 |
| Lyrics from her favorite hymn, "Because He Lives." |
That day and the next couple of weeks following, I lost more people than my grandma for various reasons. I felt more alone than I ever had (or have for that matter), and can honestly say that March was the hardest month of my life. Through it all, my beloved grandmother was a guiding light.
In her life, she was a loving, caring, generous, and most importantly, forgiving person. That woman gave herself to those around her. To set the scene, she was unable to have children, so she is only technically related by marriage, the step-mom of my great-grandma who's mother passed away. Once her husband passed away, she could have chose to walk away from our family forever. This was all before I was born, so had she chosen that route, I would have never been graced with her presence. She didn't, though. She bestowed 100% unconditional love onto my family, a choice that was so selfless and gracious that I'm sure even the angels were impressed. On top of this, she was incredibly generous. I cannot say the exact amount because she didn't wave it around like a banner of self-righteousness, but I know she donated tens of thousands of dollars (if not more) to her local church to build a gymnasium for the children to have game nights. I never heard her talk about this. I learned from my mom, who isn't sure of the amount, herself. I mentioned in my post, "Hello, Spring." a story about her the depicted how caring she was. I didn't know her in her "prime," and most of the stories I have are those that have been handed down from those who are older than me in my family. One day, though, in the last few months of her life, I got to personally witness and experience the depths of her love and care. I was visiting her one afternoon, she wasn't feeling well, and seemed to be elsewhere mentally. In a moment of clarity, she looked me in the eyes and asked if I needed anything. Through her pain and confusion, she thought of me. In a moment that she could have neglected everyone around her, she didn't.
I suppose I could go on and on about her and her legacy. The bottom line is, I have never known anyone who is as loving, gracious, or forgiving as her. Instead of letting those traits die with her, I want to do my best to carry them on. Although I will probably never achieve them on the levels that she did, I will try my hardest. I will love when it's hard (1 John 4:19 and 1 Corinthians 13). I will do my best to be gracious to those who have hurt me. And above all, I will forgive because I have been forgiven. Through these past six months, I realize that the qualities that she embodied are what really matter in life. People come and go, they can help or hurt you - often times they find a way to do both, and you might have to face your biggest fears, but if you can do so with love, grace, and forgiveness, you have succeeded.
"Love is patient, love is kind and is not jealous; love does not brag and is not arrogant, does not act unbecomingly; it does not seek its own, is not provoked, does not take into account a wrong suffered, does not rejoice in unrighteousness, but rejoices with the truth; bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things. Love never fails." - 1 Corinthians 13:4-8
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