This rockstar drinking a chocolate milkshake is my Grandma. And I love her so much.
She came to MO in a covered wagon from Kansas as a five year old.
She lived through the depression and wore a dress made from bright-yellow flour sack material. (Yes, they bought the flour for food and then used the soft material of the bag for clothes.)
She witnessed our nation unify and men young and old sign up for World War II to fight against Communism and injustice.
She lived in a Colorado logging camp that had formerly been a German POW camp.
She supported Billy Graham from beginning to end.
She watched Neil Armstrong and Buzz Aldrin walk on the moon.
She has three children, 6 grandchildren and lots of great grandchildren (Sorry family. I lost count of us all. But she hasn’t.).
Before this Christmas she looked pale and weak. So we took her to the doctor and found out she had only 40% of her blood due to an ulcer. Then they diagnosed a UTI. Then they diagnosed COVID.
Yes, COVID. I thought – we all thought – we will never see her again. Barred from the hospital, we prayed we would see grandma again. Hug her one last time. That somehow, this combination of living on 40% of blood, an infection plus the coronavirus would not take her.
My heart cried out, God! She has given too much, loved too many to die alone!
She will be 91 years old this spring and I am happy to say she is still kicking! Which is what I told her. To which she quipped right back, “Ha! Well, I’m not kicken’ very high!”
Marveling at God’s grace upon her, His answer to our prayers, I asked her, “How did you get through it all? It was just so much.”
She answered, “You just do what you gotta do until you get through it. Anytime you face something new you do not have any experience with it, so you just do it. Then, when you make it through, okay now you have some experience. But until then, you just face it and do it until it’s done and behind you.”
Grit. Thats how I sum it up. Her generation has grit.
I asked her what was the hardest part about the last several weeks. She said, “Being alone. It’s hard to be alone. But I see myself back in my apartment and seeing you all again and that’s what I am working toward.”
Hope. Plain and simple. Hope gives us the strength to do what we need to, to grab hold and push foward until we make it through. It is for hope we persevere.
Hope doesn’t beg for relief or whine about discomfort. Hope doesn’t depend on ease. Hope is the joy set before us. An expectation that rallies the soul and urges us on.
What is the hope you are clinging to today? What propels you forward?
Jesus is the hope my Grandma clings to. He is the hope I cling to. Unmoveable. Unchangeable. Eternal. A rock in the storm. A beacon in the darkness.
Grandma, I am excited for more of your stories and to give you another hug soon. And yes, I’ll bring you another milkshake!