My Grandma Anne's Hands (2014)

What must it be like, to know you are dying?
To know that you are living your last hours;
to know that soon, you will simply cease to exist?
What must it feel like? What thoughts go through one's mind?
I'm sure, as they say, you view your whole life's events,
and think about every thing you've ever said and done.
What must it be like, for your body to fail you?
To know you are losing strength, slowing down,
that the organs and muscles 
that are supposed to make you mobile and independent
just don't quite do what they're supposed to any more...

It must be a terrifying feeling; and yet one of jubilation and release.
To think about all the things you wish you'd done, the things you wish you'd said, every shortcoming you've had during your lifetime is at the front because you are now powerless to change any of it.
Frozen in time -you may think about all your regrets -or will you think about your accomplishments?

Will the jubilation come in the knowledge that you are now free, knowing that all the trials in your lifetime have failed, all the hurts and sorrows you have known are at an end.
Knowing that the next thing you will see is the return of your King -your Hero, your Lover, the One Who has Never let you down, 
and Who got you through all those trials you fought throughout your life.

Will you remember the things you made, or the friends?
Will you remember the things you possessed, or the relationships?
Will you think of yourself, of all the things you never got to finish,
or your children, grand children -great grand children, 
and wish you had gotten to spend more time with them?
Will you regret the careless words you said when you were stressed or hurting?
or remember the forgiveness and closure you obtained from a true friend?
Will you worry for those you are leaving behind? or rest assured that you will get to see them again someday?

My Grandma Anne's hands were frail, and bent, and crippled; they were weak and gnarled from many years of fighting off illness.
The skin was delicate, thin and brittle, covered with age spots and wrinkles, But my Grandma Anne's hands were Beautiful. They held her babies, 
stroked away the tears of friends, relatives, church members, so many adopted family members...
They turned the pages of music for a beautiful voice to sing -hers.
They danced across the keys of a baby grand piano, and made beautiful music for her Jesus to hear.
They worked and slaved away, as so many on this sin-filled earth do.
They sculpted, painted, and made beautiful pieces of art,
They cared for those around her like no one else could, and sometimes like no one else would.
My Grandma Anne's hands were beautiful.
Just like the rest of her.
Small, but stubborn, slight, but mighty.
Firm, but loving,delicate -yet strong. What an impact can one single individual have?
She was but one person -but she changed the World for so many...
She was not pushy or outspoken -but when she spoke, we listened, and when she said things -we heard.

To look at her, you would not have known her trials or struggles, to see her, you never would have known her pain.
She danced through life with Jesus by her side, always holding her up, lifting her spirits, taking her burdens.
She endured so much without guile, without complaint, she just kept pushing onward towards her goal, always striving, continuing on in faith that she would make it someday and now she has.
Safe in the arms of Jesus,
Safe on His gentle breast;
There by His love o'ershaded,
sweetly her soul finds rest.

My Dear Grandma Anne, oh how we shall miss you...




(Last four lines before last break adapted from "Safe in the Arms of Jesus" by Francis J Crosby)