All of my family at church the Sunday before Christmas. |
My
first Christmas in six years without tears! Oh there were plenty of
tears the weeks before Christmas and even after, but on the day we
celebrated Christmas with our kids and grandkids I had no tears. I
felt no sadness, only joy to be surrounded by my three children and
four grandchildren. Amy was missed, but lovingly remembered.
Decorating
was hard, too many memories of happier times with all my loved ones
present. Forty years of Christmases spent in this house or on the
farm in Iowa as a family. Some of our ornaments and decorations are
that old! So many many memories!
We
had a very busy schedule, so I was tired more, also contributing to
tears. We have had so many overnight guests in the last two months.
This is very unusual for me. I'm not one that is "given to
hospitality." I always thought that I never filled the role of a
"deacons wife" because of this, but Bill was a deacon for
many years. Maybe that is just another of those ideas I have been
taught over the years without seeing and understanding the whole
picture. God made me the way I am, some are "given to
hospitality" and some have other ways of sharing Gods love. For
years I have felt like I don't measure up, but as I study Gods' Word
more and more I discover that there is a freedom and joy that comes
from serving the Lord. Serving in the midst of pain and grief,
serving through tears, and exhaustion.
I can serve God as I rock my grandchildren to sleep, run the vacuum,
send cards to others and yes even the "traditional" way of
having others over.
God
has been preparing my heart for a special way to serve Him over the
last few months. In September a young girl (20) asked me to start
mentoring her. I don't care for that term, so I just prefer to think
of it as a friendship that is spanning a few decades of age! We meet
once a week and talk about what God has showed us in His Word and
pray for each other. A little over a week ago she texted me to ask
for prayer for wisdom because she was in need of a place to stay.
Last Sunday God was very clear to me during our church service. "You
have a room, ask her to stay." But no Lord, that is Amy's
room now. All her things are in there. I can't. "Yes, you
can. It's time. Pack up Amy's things. Ask her to live with you."
And
so I did. I asked with tears, she accepted with tears.
Yesterday
I boxed up all of Amy's stuff. All her things I have kept over 31
years of time, from the tiny t-shirt and booties she wore as a baby
to the obituary notice in the paper and the cards we received after
she passed away. I thought I would make myself sick because I cried
so hard. But as He always does, when we obey, God gave me strength to
do it.
Today
Emily helped me move the furniture around and in two days I will have
a new "daughter" living here. I can say this with joy and
peace in my heart and no tears.
Each
year I choose a word for the year.
My
word for this new year is "mercy". God has shown me so much
mercy over the years. He has, in His mercy, showed me how to walk
this path of grief, this path of life as I get older, this path of
mom to adult children and this path of grandma. He has mercifully led
us over the past year to our new church home and new friends we call
family.
This
morning we sang, "Multiplied", a fairly new song to me.
"Your
love is like radiant diamonds
Bursting inside us we cannot contain
Your love will surely come find us
Like blazing wild fires singing Your name
Bursting inside us we cannot contain
Your love will surely come find us
Like blazing wild fires singing Your name
God
of mercy sweet love of mine
I have surrendered to Your design
May this offering stretch across the skies
And these Halleluiahs be multiplied"
I have surrendered to Your design
May this offering stretch across the skies
And these Halleluiahs be multiplied"
There
was that word mercy. I'm sure the first of many times it will jump
out to me as my word, grace, did for me last year.
Oh
dear Lord, may my Hallelujahs be multiplied.
I've
been thinking I should change the name of this blog. For the last
year or so it has not seemed like it is Amy's Story anymore, but
mine. Then I heard someone speak about the verse Philippians 1:6 “For
I am confident of this very thing, that He who began a good work in
you will perfect it until the day of Christ Jesus.”
Amy's
story didn't end when she died. It continues until Christ comes back.
It continues through my life, and her siblings, even through the
niece and nephews who are learning of her and on down through the
generations.
About
a week before Christmas I was helping my grandsons make crafts for
presents. I told them that I had made this craft with Aunt Amy.
Little Will, who is 4, said, “Mommy has told me about Aunt Amy. She
lives in heaven with Jesus. Did her Mommy and Daddy go to heaven with
her when she died?” Tears were already in my eyes at his words and
now started running down my face. “O Will, I am Aunt Amy's Mommy
and Grandpa is Aunt Amy's Daddy.” His eyes
got big and he said, “Do
you miss her?” More tears, “Yes dear boy, I miss her so very
much.” But I was able to smile and said, “She is so happy living
with Jesus, it makes me happy, too, even though I miss her.”
A few days later we got a
call from this little guy telling us he had given his heart to Jesus.
The angels are rejoicing!
The Hallelujahs are being multiplied!
Tears fill my eyes, but tears of thankfulness and happiness for you. I love you!
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