Loved

If you regularly read my blog, you probably noticed that I was a little “off” last week. Last Monday morning I received the call that my grandmother had passed away, and my priorities for the week obviously changed.

If there was one thing I heard through celebrating Grandma last week, it was that people felt loved by her. For as long as I can remember, my grandparents have had a steady flow of people continually stopping by their house. Grandma and Grandpa would sit and visit with whoever came to see them, whether for a few minutes or a few hours. Even if they'd rather be doing something else, they would never make their guests feel rushed off or unwanted. Grandma would typically have a pie or cake ready to set on the table, and more often than not she'd go ahead and pull together an entire spread of food. She was a hostess by nature, and her hospitality was well-known around their small town and beyond.

Even last week as the family was gathered together the day before the funeral, my grandfather had a steady stream of those visitors who had frequently been guests in my grandparents' home. He seemed to come alive with each new visitor. Although at the age of 90 his eyesight is mostly gone, as soon as he heard each voice he knew each visitor by name and could sit for the next little while reminiscing about all sorts of things they had experienced together. The visiting continued the next day during the funeral as even the torrential rain didn't prevent people from packing the church to pay their final respects to my grandmother.

Through it all, the most common expression I heard was that these people felt loved by my grandmother. Now don't get me wrong – Grandma was not one of these sweet, docile little people-pleasing homemakers. No amount of white hair could ever conceal the red-headed personality that reverberated through ever fiber of her being. Grandma was stubborn, opinionated, and unafraid of letting others know her opinion. But, somehow through it all, people felt loved.

The whole experience made me stop and ask the question that many have asked before: What will people think of me when they come to say their final goodbyes?

I did not inherit the extroverted personality of my grandparents, nor am I the fantastic hostess Grandma was. But, those are not the only ways to show love to others. It's always such a temptation to live life with my own interests at heart. I have my husband's needs to meet, my children to raise well, my home to take care of, and my to-do list to check off. And, while my family is indeed among my primary priorities, what good does it do me if I maintain my home and check off every item on my to-do list but have nothing to show for it? What good is it if I leave a blog full of posts but never connect with real people?

When it is my turn to end this life and see for the first time the fullness of what eternal life will look like, I don't want to be remembered only as someone who accomplished my personal goals. I want to be seen as someone who made others feel loved. It will look very different than it looked last week surrounding Grandma's funeral. But, whatever the details, love must come alive in my life. Otherwise I will have accomplished nothing. (Hmmm...seems that God told us that somewhere in His Word. 1 Corinthians 13, maybe?)

Thank you for loving me, Grandma! That love makes me smile today, even in the midst of the tears of missing you.