Farewell

As some of you already know, my grandmother passed away last weekend. I flew home this week for her funeral and just returned to Kentucky tonight. I was asked to speak at her funeral, and for whatever reason, I just feel like sharing with you some of what I shared at her funeral. This will be a long post, so I will not include everything. But for what it's worth, here are some thoughts that have gotten me through this week:

A few weeks ago, I was sitting at home sewing a button back onto a pair of my pants. As I sat there, I thought about Mamal and started laughing. I could hear her telling me, “Jeffrey, you’re going to make someone a good wife one day.” She always picked on me about how Mama had taught not only Shae and Elizabeth, but also me the basics of cooking, cleaning, doing laundry and even how to sew on buttons. I think the first time I ever heard her say that, I was a little offended. But I quickly began to realize how it was actually an incredible compliment.

On Saturday night, I finally sat down and stopped for a few moments. After getting the phone call that morning that Mamal had passed, I had worked all day, tried to make arrangements to fly home and have everything lined up while I was gone. And then a friend called to see how I was doing and she asked me, “what is your greatest memory of your grandmother?” Well, that sent my mind racing through a thousand memories. My first thought was about her cornbread and how no one could ever make it like hers. I thought about standing in her kitchen in Garden city where she would walk up to us with a butter knife in her hand and flip it around at the last minute as she poked it as us to scare us while she made that distinguishable little popping sound with her mouth.

I thought about sitting outside under the carport shucking corn with her or shelling butter beans. I thought about listening to her stories of the times she had gone fishing with her friends and brothers. I think one of my favorite stories that I heard her share multiple times was how when she was younger, and Uncle Fred was still a baby, and she was given the responsibility to watch him. But she wanted to go play with Uncle Henry and Uncle Pee Wee so she would pinch Uncle Fred, make him cry, and then take him back to her mom and tell her that she couldn’t make him stop crying. Then she got to go hang out with the “older kids.” I still can’t imagine her doing that.

I thought about how she would cringe if you got anywhere close to her feet and about her sitting in her chair with one leg propped over the arm rest. I remembered her sitting at the table on a Sunday afternoon to play Scrabble. I thought about the oil lamp in her living room that we would always get in trouble for touching or the old glider swing that was always in her back yard.

I have been very blessed in my life to have known my grandparents. But more than just knowing her, I got to spend several hours with her on a daily basis during a very impressionable time in my life. Middle and High school are very interesting years and I could never have guessed how influential the time was that I got to spend with her. Everyday after school, Elizabeth and I would go over and hang out with her for a little while. And when Elizabeth started working after school and when she had started college, it was just me and Mamal. I honestly believe that it was those afternoons spent together that I learned the value of a quality conversation with someone, regardless of how much talking was being done. I would eat my snack, she would listen, not watch, just listen to “As the World Turns” as she finished a crossword puzzle, and we would have a great time. She would make me laugh, share her stories with me, and ask me questions about how I was doing. It was almost always about me. That seemed so natural for her. To be focused on other people.

One of my favorite quotes says, “Every adult needs a child to teach, for that is the way in which adults learn.” As that’s true, Mamal must have been one of the most intelligent and wisest people on the planet. How many kids has she loved on in her life? Last night Lucas woke up crying and since I was sleeping closer to where he was, I got up to get him. As I sat in the rocking chair trying to put him back to sleep, I thought to myself, “I wonder how many times Mamal has done this?” I simply couldn’t begin to guess.

After I had moved away for college, Mama told me on the phone one day that Mamal was moving. I remember being upset, b/c I knew that meant she wouldn’t be there when I came home to visit. And I believe it was at that moment that I realized that Mamal was much more than my grandmother, she was my friend. The next summer I was more than excited to drive myself to Blackshear to visit her for the weekend. I’ll always remember that visit, the great time we had together, and how I got some more cornbread.

There is one thing about Mamal that really sticks out to me. I’m sure that everyone in this room knows how much she loved the Lord. I remember how amazed I was as a kid when she told me that she had read all the way through the Bible, multiple times. I had never heard of anyone who had done that before. Still, the greatest quality about Mamal being a Christian was that she never had to say it. She simply lived it. To be a Christian, is somewhat simple terms, means to be a representation of the character of God to the world. That’s what Mamal did. To her brothers, her kids, her grandkids, every child she kept at daycare, all of her friends, and most definitely to me she was an example of the character of God here on this earth.

We are reminded in 1 Peter 2 that we are not citizens of this earth, but we are citizens of His kingdom. We are only sojourners, or travelers on this earth. This earth isn’t our home. It is just what we walk through, obediently, humbly, and selflessly, knowing that the fullness of His kingdom is still to come. We are only passing through. Knowing what I know now, I can look back on at least the part of her life for which I was around and say that Mamal lived her life knowing that she didn’t have to worry about life here, because she was simply on her way home. I’m sure that she never thought when she was younger that she would spend the last 31 years of her life walking home without Papa, yet she faithfully kept walking and she is now home. And because of that, I have comfort today.

My comfort isn’t because I believe she is reunited with Papa. My comfort is in the reality that she is in heaven. And heaven, simply put, is the full, unhindered, all encompassing presence of God. She is hanging out with the creator of the universe. She is overwhelmed by the beauty, the splendor, and the majesty of God and the fullness of His peace; that peace which passes all understanding. The one who created her, who saved her, who loved her, and who finally got her home, is now the one she gets to look upon for all of eternity, with absolutely nothing getting in her way.

In the gospel of John, we read about Jesus being the bridegroom and John simply being the friend of the bridegroom. And then John says, in verse 29, after having heard Jesus speak, “the friend of the bridegroom rejoices greatly at the bridegroom’s voice. Therefore, this joy of mine in now complete.” Mamal can now stand in the full presence of the bridegroom, Jesus Christ, hear his voice more clearly than she could have ever imagined, and have true and complete joy.

What a blessing. To spend 88 years walking home. Along the way, helping everyone you pass and loving your family so selflessly and unconditionally, to finally stand before Jesus Christ in awe of his beauty and love and to truly have complete joy.

I want to share one final thought. To the question that my friend asked me on Saturday night about what was my greatest memory of Mamal, my answer was simply, “her.” My greatest memory of Mamal is simply who she was. Her personality, her smile, her humor, and her heart.

A few years ago, I was sitting with a small group of people when the question was raised, “if you could have dinner with anyone who is already gone whom you never got to meet, who would it be?” Without hesitation, I knew my answer. It was Papa. I spent all of my life hearing about the “Bossman” and wondering what it would have been like to know him in person. Yet, I’ll never have that opportunity. I’ll only have the stories, pictures and the legacy that he left behind.

For the past ten years or so, I’ve regularly told my parents that the one thing I hoped for was that one day, whoever she was and whenever I’d meet her, I really wanted my wife to be able to meet Mamal. And I wanted Mamal to be able to meet her. I wanted her to have the priviledge of knowing one of my favorite people in the world. And now, that will never happen. But one thing I can promise. Whenever I do meet her, she will hear so much about Mamal that if she is ever asked the question of who is the one person she would choose to have dinner with that she never got to meet, her answer will be Mamal.

With all of you here today, I say good-bye to Mamal. I say farewell to the Bosslady. And in her honor and per her example, may we all continue our walk home, as travelers here on the earth, loving and helping everyone we find along the way, until one day we see His beauty and find complete joy in hearing the voice of the bridegroom.

I love you Mamal. Thank you for sharing your life with me.