Saints Alive

I've been working on a story that deals with death and our mortal acceptance and struggle with it. Maybe it's cheap therapy as my brain deals with loss. Maybe it's the celebration of All Saint's Day and the addition of my mother's banner at her church. 

Grandma Rose and me

Whatever it is, the lessons I learned from those who have passed on are at the forefront on my mind right now. 

I spent a lot of time with my Grandma Rose. Spring cleaning, summer weeding, holiday prep...I was the help. I don't remember what age I started cleaning, but my earliest memory was paste waxing floors. I'd shove my hand into one of my grandpa's old socks and dip it in the can of paste wax. I'd rub it on and Grandma would use the floor polisher to bring it to a shine. While we'd work, she'd sing me little ditties switching in the names of people in the family. I recall giggling and rolling on the floor at some of the songs-- so I must have been pretty young.

As I got older, I still enjoyed cleaning with my grandma. Igot a little pocket money, a fine dinner, and once I graduated from songs, I got my share of wisdom.

Grandma had something to teach about everything.
Cleaning...cooking...finances...death...

One day, as we were cleaning knick knacks on one of the many, many shelves in her house, we had plenty of time to chat. Grandma sat in a chair with a bucket of ammonia water. I handed her trinkets. She dipped them in the water, washed them off, and I dried them and put them back on the shelf.

For some reason, the conversation turned to death. It could have been that, being the over-thinking, anxiety-prone kid that I was, I brought it up. 

For whatever reason, Grandma told me she didn't fear death. 

I told her maybe that came with age, because I sure wasn't okay with it. 

She gave me that wise grandma look, a bit like a pleasant smirk. "I've already met my angel, so I have no fear of what is waiting for me at the end."

She went on to tell me the story of my mother's birth. My mother was her first child and her labor and delivery was rough. She was born at home in the 1930's. Labor lasted for days and the delivery went late into the night. 
Grandma said after my mom was born and she heard the hearty cries, she knew she was a healthy little fighter. 
Knowing the baby was fine, Grandma could rest. 
She closed her eyes and slipped into the deepest, most peaceful sleep of her life. 
In this sleep, there was a warmth, a light...a feeling of contentedness that she found impossible to describe. 
She was so happy, she wanted to stay in this place forever. 
But a presence there wouldn't allow her to stay. It passed to her an understanding, an unspoken prod to return to reality- it was not her time. She still had things to do in life. 

She woke. Her life got busy with more babies and family, but she said she never forgot that feeling. Or that presence, which she believed was her guardian angel. 

She told me she didn't think she had gone to heaven, but to a sort of waiting room for heaven...was offered a glimpse of heaven. And if a glimpse of heaven was that good, that indescribably perfect, imagine the glory of the whole shebang? 

Many years later, my brother told me a very similar tale as he fought his last days of cancer...but that's a post for later.  

Time for my small things check-in. Thanks to our hosts Lexa, L  .G, and Tonja Drecker for this weekly reminder to look for the good things in life! What good things are new with you? 

~It was good to get an update from Lexa, one of our good things leaders. I was sad to hear she's had some health problems, but was glad to hear she is mending. Prayers she's back to full steam fast!

~My son was inducted into the National Honor Society last year and this week, he got to induct a friend of his into the society. It was a thumb's up moment!

My son- Conner, Garret,, and Austin

And of course, our veterans...to all who have served and are serving, thank you.