My Grandmama went to be with Jesus. Somehow, it’s hard to believe that she’s gone.
Memories surface. Tears come. There’s joy in knowing she’s safely home. There’s hope of seeing her again; that’s a beautiful promise to those who belong to the Father.
We lived next door to Grandaddy and Grandmama growing up. I slipped over to their house more often than I probably should have! (Now, I’m so grateful for all those memories!) Grandmama would comb my messy hair assuring me that I would feel much better once it was done. She was known for her homemade bread; I’d unashamedly ask for a piece as a child. I’d sit at the kitchen table next to her savoring each bite. While we were sitting she would exclaim over the birds at the feeder near the kitchen window.
Grandmama loved the outdoors. She was often in her garden. I would help her. I always enjoyed the space in her garden for flowers; I’d try to restrain myself from picking them!
She was my first grade teacher to.
Her eyes shone when she heard how God brought Eric into my life. In the last couple of years she’d often say that she’s so glad I have a strong man to lean on in the midst of my physical difficulties.
I briefly watched her in the final moments of her life; I heard the struggle in her breathing. I wanted to make it easier for her. When the family sang I faltered.
I sensed Jesus saying, “Jo, I’m receiving her. Her life is really just beginning!”
When I think of her life the word that comes immediately to my mind is faithful. She loved God, her family and the people around her. She faithfully lived out God’s call on her life.
I want to be faithful like Grandmama was. I want to keep on doing the right thing even in the hard times.
The song, “Keep on Walking” has played over and over in my mind. I think if she could that’s what she’d say to me now.
Somehow, heaven feels closer. Life seems so fragile. Faithful living the key.