Yesterday my grandmother passed away. She was an amazing woman.
My grandmother was like most in that she never missed a chance to wish you Happy Birthday, or Merry Christmas. I have stacks of cards that she sent me and countless memories of being around the dinner table with her on Sunday afternoons. When I was younger I couldn’t figure out what was different about her so I chalked it up to the mysteriousness of grandparent-hood. As I grew older, I began to see something in my grandma that I didn’t see in other people.
My grandma loved her husband (whom she was married to for 67 years), her family and the community of friends where she lived. Outside of that, everything else was incidental. Everything, that is, except Jesus.
(Essentially, I went to college to study about Jesus. Furthermore, I pursued a masters in theology just so I could learn more about him. I’ve spent most of my adult life talking about Jesus and trying to help others understand him. I have travelled all over the world preaching about him. I have sung to him, prayed to him and even written about him.)
My grandmother’s journey with Jesus was very different than mine. Her path didn’t involve flight itineraries or author contracts. She didn’t need those things because somehow, she figured out how to live in heaven and on earth at the same time.
My knowledge of Jesus pales in comparison to that of my grandmother’s.
Have fun Grandma.