Tender-hearted

A lot has happened since my last post. After almost 16 years fighting Non-Hodgkins Lymphoma and the last two months or so suffering under hospice care, my Mawmaw died. I saw in Grandad's pocket calendar that he looks at over and over every day (for years now) that on May 31, he wrote "11:40 pm Joni met the Lord."

We celebrated her life with a wonderful service at which I was allowed the honor of giving the eulogy. In a way it was so cathartic for me - I was able to tell the world what I felt the Lord wanted me to about her life. As I knew her death was imminent, I began to sense this urging that I must speak at the service, that it was imperative that I share what I felt was her mantra in life. That is, that peace - Godly peace - in your home is more valuable than anything. This is what she drilled into me in the years since I married Dan. Over and over I would call her with my troubles. Dan called her with our troubles. His troubles. And over and over she would lead us to love - to look to the Lord for guidance and wisdom. I can't count the times she said, "Peace in your home is more important than anything." Right now I can still hear the sound of her voice in my head, so plaintive in her plea to seek peace, so honest in her belief that peace should and could pervade over anything else. I pray I can hold onto that memory - the sound of her voice and the look on her face as she said those words to me.

With all the petty and not-so-petty troubles I took to her, she was never negative. She never encouraged pessimism, negativity, or holding a grudge. Instead, she listened as long as I needed her to, and inevitably would recite scriptures to me and urge me to "just go put your arms around him and tell him you love him." Ugh! That wasn't the advice I wanted!! She lived her own advice. Peace pervaded her home. God's precious peace and love pervaded her marriage. No matter what life threw at her - another round of chemo, another heart bypass surgery, anything (I'm sparing our family's dirty laundry here - and it's dirty), she let love prevail. It was not just humanly love. She loved beyond that. She loved when she didn't want to. I know this because she told me so. We were best friends. She told me when she wanted to be mad, wanted to hate, and wanted to spread gossip or ugly words. And of course, I told her (there was a lot more me telling her that kind of stuff than the other way around!) when I felt that way too. She loved because God loved - loves - her. She loved because God told her to and because she believed she must.

I knew God wanted me to tell others of this gift she left me. She and Grandad saved my marriage. Maybe (this just now occuring to me) this blog is part of that sharing. I am sharing with you her gift. She wanted others to know that it was God's peace and love that prevailed in her home, her marriage, and that it could in yours, too. Others in my life encouraged me to hold on to the negative, ugly, bad and selfish parts in my marriage, my home. They encouraged me to do this through their direct words and actions. But MawMaw did the opposite. She never quit loving me and Dan, and pointing us to God and his loving peace. To be fair, Grandad did, too, and still does, but she was the one I talked to for hours. He doesn't always hear so well on the phone!!

Two weeks ago tomorrow I took Cole to Booneville just to visit - to see Grandad and see how he was doing. We ate lunch together, just sat around talking and even watched Cole run through the sprinkler in his front yard. As Cole and I left town, I stopped by the cemetary and Cole and I stood at MawMaw's fresh grave. We talked for what must have been the fiftieth time about her body being in the grave, but her spirit being in Heaven; yes, her skin and bones are still here. Yes, we will see her again. It's a hard concept for a four-year-old. It was so very hot that day. The heat index was over 100 degrees. We stood there only a few minutes, and I said to MawMaw out loud that I missed her, I loved her, that Grandad was doing ok, and a few other things. Cole and I touched the flowers that were already brown, and the few silk ones still vibrant and alive-looking. I touched the tiny green metal marker placed there by the funeral home until the headstone is in place, running my finger over her picture. The metal was hot.

I pulled Cole's hand toward the car and said it was time to go. He pulled back, toward her grave, and said, "I want to say bye." I went with him just the one or two steps back, and he leaned down, and kissed her picture in that scorching metal sign, and said, "Bye, MawMaw, I love you."

That was all he needed. And it was all I needed too.