Grandma's Walk

Marie is getting married; his name is Carl and he is quite handsome. Her roommate has listened patiently to her excited chatter for the longest time. Everyone who lives in her hall has been invited to the upcoming nuptials. No one has the heart to tell her Carl is gone, but even if they did, it would not matter.

Marie is my octogenarian grandmother. My grandpa - Carl - died of a heart attack over two decades ago.

Some time ago, Grandma had to leave the home she once shared with Grandpa. My cousin, delivering papers in the wee morning hours, found Grandma sitting on the front porch. She could not sleep, she said, because of those little girls in the attic again. She came outside to get some peace and quiet.

The front porch is no place for an 87-year -old woman in the middle of the night, especially in the frigid winter of Western New York. Therefore, the yellow house on Main Street was cleared out. A metal real estate sign was planted where a lavish garden once flourished. And Grandma moved into the nursing home.

She had been confused by the voices and visions of dementia for some time. Naughty little girls toddled up and down her staircase, stopping frequently to giggle at her bedside. People from her past visited at all hours. She called late one night to make sure I was all right. She thought she had heard me calling out to her, although I live two thousand miles away.

Then there was the time the kind man came. He told her to get ready, because he would be coming back soon to take her on a special trip to climb a mountain. I was certain that an angel of the Lord had visited her. But Grandma's still here; her journey with the kind man must be yet to come.

Then again, Grandma's life has been one long, wonderful walk with the Lord. Looking back, I see the spiritual legacy she has created and the way her walk has shaped mine. She taught me to be a humble servant by trudging up the hill to our little church every Monday to clean the bathrooms and take out the trash. She taught me the wonder of worship as she belted out hymns while performing her daily chores. She taught me to see God's hand in everything as we planted peonies and gathered raspberries right in her yard on bustling Main Street.

And greatest of all she taught me to love simply by loving us so profusely, so unabashedly, so unconditionally.

Now that she is in the home, Grandma's "visitors" do not seem to upset her anymore. Maybe they are a gift from God, a foreshadowing of the life that awaits Grandma when she leaves this one. On good days, she still recognizes her children, grandchildren, and siblings. Alone in her room she loudly sings the hymns she loves so dearly. Her first granddaughter who died as an infant is alive and thriving in Grandma's world. Her beloved groom is waiting to take her in his loving arms and bring her into his home. It all makes sense to Grandma and she is happy and at peace. For that, I am thankful.

One day, maybe even today, the kind man will return and take her to the mountaintop. There she will recognize everyone, every day. She will loudly sing hymns of praise with an angelic choir. Her loved ones in Christ who have gone on before her will be alive and thriving. And her Bridegroom will take her in His loving arms and say, "Welcome home, beloved!"

Grandma will be happy and at peace. For that, I will be eternally thankful.