moment

19 Jul

Exercise in Flow Writing

Have a few minutes before heading to work. Stealing some WiFi and pretending like I wouldn’t have had time to wash a whole load of laundry this morning. (We’ll leave that assumption unchallenged.)

…..

Goodman’s Grandmother passed in her sleep a few days ago. I’m completely unqualified to speak on the matter in a factual sense. But I have seen bits and those can be passed along and melded through the teller’s voice.

When I first met “Grandma Hurr” she was a frail, bright eyed woman. Who drank in my strange face like I was bringing the most exotic of news. She’s been in steep decline, so I’m not sure how much she gathered about my existence or connection to the her shared home. I am certain she recognized that I didn’t belong (as of yet). It was kind of refreshing to have someone who didn’t pretend it was all normal for this Concrete Flower to show up on the Farm.

Then one time I visited and she was unable to eat with the others. I would peek in her room and see something like brittle paper laying in a bed. But still there was a ferocity in the way she claimed her space.

The family I’m grafted into also furiously claim people and spaces.

I watched them claim that lady. Resolutely putting away personal desires and comforts to provide for her. Even when there would be no chance of gratitude or understanding.

I’m so proud of them.

The priveledge of being in the company of those much older than me has been withheld. My grandparents have all passed away now (except for a fantastic firestick of a Step-Grandma, Irene). And when they lived they did so far away… both in distance and sometimes in spirit.

So the example of such generational love and care is a new one. A precious one.

I am assured that God sees such faithfulness from a daughter and husband to a mother. He sees and is gloriefied.

We glory alongside Christ.

Both in our death,

Also in obedient lives.

Goodman and I fly a swift and tiny charter plane to be with the family this weekend.

I’m thankful to be given the joy of standing next to such a faithful and loyal clan. Their obedience is a beauty I covet.

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