Hear.See.Know

My grandparents have been married for over 60 years…60 years.  They have withered many storms together…experienced many highs and many lows, but they have walked together for 60 years.  Pretty cool I must say.

Do you know what else?  They have to be touching each other when they sleep.  Like one of them always has their hand on the other ones back or shoulder or they cuddle or whatever.  But, they always have to be touching in some way. 

Some of you probably think “oh how romantic.”  I gotta tell you when they told me that, I told them I thought it was so weird! (Love you grandma!)

My hubby and I aren’t particularly touchy.  I mean we hold hands and hug and kiss (according to my 4 year old daughter as repeated to my mother in law, we kiss a lot and for a long time).  But, we aren’t just one of those overly affectionate couples.  And, at night time we aren’t cuddlers.  Usually we start falling asleep with one of us hugging the other one and then within about ten minutes we naturally both move to our side of the bed.  We like our space what can I say!

But, Monday night a strange thing happened.  We fell asleep like normal but within about an hour of having fallen asleep the baby started kind of fussing, so I woke up to listen.  When I kind of came to, I realized that Hubby was still hugging me.  He, while still half asleep, asked me what was wrong.  I told him that I was cold.  He then pulled up the cover and kind of tucked me in and then kissed me on the shoulder.

Small little tears stung the corner of my eyes.  

I was exhausted. That particular day was a really hard ministry day for us. But for that brief moment in time, all the troubles that we had face the day before melted away, and I felt so cherished and just known.  Does that make sense?  It was like even half asleep my husband knew me, knew my need, and just met it.  I was cold, yes, but the way he tenderly tucked me in and then kissed my shoulder was just almost more than I could bear.

You see ministry life is hard.  

Don’t get me wrong. I feel so incredibly grateful to be chosen by God to do what I do. 

 But, it is hard.  

And it is really lonely…

I don’t mean lonely because I am a missionary and live far away from my family.  It is lonely because of the kind of work that we do.  I am betting that pastors and pastors’ wives and counselors and social workers and probably even public service men and women…and the list goes on…feel the same way.  

It is lonely.

And lately I have felt that more than ever. 

Because even though I may not need that touchy feely kind of relationship with my hubby that some women need, I still crave intimacy.  I yearn to be known.  I desire to be seen.  I long to be heard.

And I haven’t felt those things in a while.

Because the thing about life in ministry is you are [supposed to be] always giving, always listening, always available, always cheerful, always patient…. You give and you do and you give some more and do some more.  You are always on the side of the helper or healer or counselor or friend.  It isn’t always a reciprocal kind of thing. 

I am not complaining. It probably sounds like I am but I am not.  

One thing I have known to be true since I was very little is that those that have, need to give.  We can’t keep it all for ourselves.  So I give, and I do it joyfully.  Yes I am here because God called me here but I am also here because I want to be here. 

I want all these beautiful children and young adults here to be heard. I want them to be seen. I want them to be known.  I have had that in my life so I want to give it back to them.  

But the truth is…

I want that too.

I want to be known. I want to be seen. I want to be heard.  

And the thing about being in ministry with your spouse is you don’t feel like you can just let loose with them the same way.  There are nights like Monday night that I knew my husband went to bed just as exhausted and fatigued and probably even a little empty as I did.  I, however, being the talkative woman that I am, wanted to just unload on him. I wanted to release everything I had been holding in throughout our over 15 hour work day.  But I knew it wasn’t fair to burden him with it when he needed time to recharge his batteries too. He needed to just be quiet.  He needed to rest and to sleep. 

I needed to be heard. 

I think that is why those tears came so quick and so strong during that night.  He was asleep…I know this because when I asked him the next morning about it, he had absolutely no recollection of the “tender moment” we shared.  But, even in his slumber, he knew me…he saw me…he heard me…and he met my need for intimacy. 

I don’t have the answers today. 

I don’t have something super profound to share.  I guess this is just me unloading into the cyber sphere.  Sometimes it is much more cathartic than just writing on a paper no one will ever see.

But, I do want to leave you with this.

Those that are in ministry are no better or no greater or no more holy than those who are not in ministry.  We all have people pulling at us…needing us…looking for us…asking us to stop what we are doing to be there for them. 

But I am guessing that there are people around you that need to be seen…that need to be heard…that need to be known.  Don’t assume just because he/she is always in the position of doing that for others that he/she also has it all together and no longer has that need.  Reach out.  Listen.  Stop.  Show grace.  Be compassionate. Give a hug. Let someone know that they aren’t alone.  

Hear. See. Know.

Someone needs that today. 

And I am betting you could do it.

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Why I don't want my kids to have everything...

Before you read any further, I need to make this disclaimer:

I am not a perfect mom…nor am I trying to convey that I am with this blog post. 

I am a flawed mama, leaning on God’s grace that comes new each and every morning.  There are many days that I go to bed with tears feeling like a big fat failure.  There are also nights like last night that I flat crash at 8:15 because I just can’t give anymore.  I make mistakes.  I mess up.  I am just like every single other mother out there in this world.

I am far from perfect. 

But I am trying.

I am trying to lean in more to Jesus.  I am trying to hear His heart.  I am trying to parent in a way that brings Him honor.

And most of all I am trying to teach my children what it means to love God passionately and to love others with an abundance of compassion, mercy, and selflessness.

I have come a long way since my early, idealistic parenting days.  I thought I had it all together and had all the answers.  I used to think and say things like this…

“Well, if we just get them into a good schedule, then the rest will just fall into place.”

“If I start them young, then they will automatically like it when they are older.”

“If we just model everyday what we want them to do, then eventually they will start doing it too.”

“If we just read the Bible a little more together and have the kids pray more together, then they won’t fight so much.” (Ha if only that one were true!)

“If we have the capabilities to give them the best, then it is our obligation to do it.”

That last one though has continued to haunt me for years now.  I have had to really dig down deep to figure out where the line fell. It has just been so hard to know if I am obligated to give them the best, if I have the capability to do so.  I don't mean that I am obligated to give them that sucker in the checkout line just because I have the money to do so.  When I say give them "the best" I am referring to the bigger picture..like wanting to give our kids the best chance at succeeding in life.  I am not in anyway referring to spoiling your children.

Maybe you haven’t or don’t struggle with that.  But, I sure do.  I live in a third-world country.  But, so often the battle in my heart has been that I don’t want my kids to live like they are in a third-world country.  Deep down I want to give them a life like the one they would have if we lived in a first-world country.

I want them to have the best education possible.

I want them to get plenty of time for resting, playing, socializing, eating, and spending quality time with Mom and Dad.

I want them to have yummy snacks when they get home from school.

I want them to eat balanced, healthy diets.

I don’t want them exposed to “bad things”

I don’t want them to watch too much TV.

I want them to say “please” and “thank you”

I want them to be happy, healthy, and loved well.

And the list goes on…

Of course, many of these things are good things.  They are really great things actually and things I think all of us want for our kids.  We love our kids; so of course, we want to give them the best.

But, I want to challenge that mentality today.  What if we are doing our kids more harm than good by always trying to give them the best?  Because let’s face it, much of the rest of the world doesn’t have the ability to give any more even if they wanted to do give them the “best.”  What if by giving them our best always and by trying to meet each and every one of their needs, wants, hopes, dreams, desires, etc. we aren’t actually even leaving any room for them to need the Lord…to want the Lord?  What if by giving and doing and trying all the time, we aren’t giving them a world perspective? Their world becomes small and it is hard for them to even imagine kids that really have to live without?

These are questions I have been grappling with for a long while now.  I love my kids.  I love them so much.  As cliché as it sounds, I really would take a bullet for them without giving it a second thought.  I do want them to have a great education.  I do want them learn to be polite and to eat good foods and to have fun and laugh…laugh a lot.  I want them to have all that I have to give them! 

But, at the end of the day, I also want my kids to bring the Lord glory in everything they are doing too.  I want them to honor Him.  And I really want them to love like Him.  I want them to be compassionate and thoughtful.  I want them to not be afraid of what they don’t know.  I want them to see a child playing in the dirt, with maggots crawling all over him, and for them to boldly walk over and hold his hand or to offer him something to eat.  I don’t want my kids’ whole world to be nothing more than what they see and experience each day.  Even though they are young, I know that kids can be fiercely loving and protective and generous. I want to give them opportunities to do that…not just in our home or our community or in our church.  I want them to do that naturally wherever we go and wherever they are.  

So what has that meant for our family?

Well, I am no longer so focused on their education.  For a long time I felt like the only options for me were homeschooling or sending them to a private school.  But that is off my radar now. That may change in the future due to circumstances or whatever, but for now, they are going to school with all the other kids at the orphanage…where we also have many kids from the surrounding poorer area.  I know they will get a perfectly adequate education, but I am hopeful that they will get much more than that.

I make my kids eat everything.  I even purposely cook things I know they don’t like so they can have an opportunity to keep trying it AND to learn to be thankful that they even have food to eat.  I know this may sound mean, but when hundreds of thousands of children are dying of hunger, I want my kids to learn to eat everything…and to do it with a heart of gratitude.

My kids play outside…A LOT.  They go to school, but we don’t do much more in the way of formal stuff here in the house.  They play with kids in our neighborhood, at the orphanage, at the mall, at the soccer fields.  If there are kids around, I make them just go play.  PLAY!  Run around, laugh, get dirty, climb trees, etc.  The one thing that is universal for kids no matter where they live is their ability to imagine the most wonderful and innovative games outside.  Kids learn so many life skills just doing life together outside.

I am not a perfect parent.  My kids are not perfect kids.  We struggle.  We fight.  We get jealous sometimes.  We are ungrateful.  We spend too much.  We want too much.  We watch too much TV.  We eat too much junk.  We eat fast food loaded with nasty preservatives.  We get selfish.  We aren’t perfect.

But one thing we are all trying to do together is love…love hard, love strong, love passionately…and love abundantly….wherever we go, whatever we do, and with whomever we meet. 

Because really and truly what the world does need a lot more of is love.

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Are you weeping for them?

Just a forewarning

I am going to talk about football.  But hang with me because I am only going to do it for like a minute and then I am going to get to the good stuff…

Just stay with me for a moment.

So anyone who actually knows me in real life knows that I am a HUGE KC Chiefs fan…like seriously…I am a big fan.  Once when I was a kid, I had this big idea that I could be a kid journalist.  Since I am a first born, “anything is possible” kind of person, I decided that I would start by writing a “Neighborhood News” weekly newspaper for my neighborhood.  (God bless them for actually acting like they were interested.)  Anyway, so once a week I would make up this cool little construction paper newspaper, write up some “news” articles, roll them up, tie them with a string, and go throw them onto the front porches of all my neighbors.  All sounds super cute, right?  Only problem was the only thing I ever wrote about in this weekly newspaper was the KC Chiefs.  Seriously.  True story.  I am sure my neighbors loved me.

I tell this little anecdote to show you that my love for football and for the KC Chiefs has been an almost life-long love.   My kids and I have all kinds of Chiefs gear.  I follow news in the off season, watch the draft online, start counting down the days in July, get giddy excited in August during pre-season, and talk about nothing else with my fellow football fans throughout the months of September through January.  I am the real deal fan.

So tonight when we lost, after having a 28 point lead at one point in the game and thus continuing our 20 yearlong streak of postseason losses, I was so upset.  The truth is I actually cried…like real, running down your face, all blotchy, tears.  It wasn’t pretty.  Then I got on Facebook and ranted about it with all my other KC Chiefs loving friends.  Finally, I decided I couldn’t handle anymore and I took a shower. 

But something happened while I was in there.

As I was lathering up, something more than soap and water started to wash over me.   The Lord really started to break my heart.  I didn’t feel like He was convicting me about my crazy passion for football or even about the fact that it is really all quite superficial.  He was calling to my attention my tears…tears over a silly football game. 

It was like He was asking me this:

“What about those babies and children that are going to bed tonight without food in their bellies because their family can’t afford milk and food?”

“Sara, are you weeping for them?”

“What about those kids suffering from preventable diseases and are slowing dying in beds and on dirt floors simply because there aren’t doctors and medicines available to treat them…”

“Are you weeping for them?”

“What about the young girls being passed between hundreds of men a day as sex slaves with no way out...”

“Are you weeping for them?”

“What about the little boy wetting his bed at night due to the fear of his father coming in and taking advantage of him while his mother sleeps…”

“Are you weeping for him?”

“What about the teenager who is considering taking his/her life because of the constant bullying he/she faces every day at school because of his beliefs, gender, race, sexual orientation, family, etc…”

“Are you weeping for him?”

“What about the hundreds of unborn babies being killed every single day all over the world...”

“Are you weeping for them?”

“What about the single mothers and fathers working 70 hours a week just to try and give their child a fighting chance in this world but yet never actually get to sit down for a family meal…”

“Are you weeping for them?”

“And what about the hundreds of thousands of people that are dying every single day without ever knowing the HOPE, JOY, and LOVE of an everlasting relationship with ME, Jesus Christ…”

“Sara, ARE YOU WEEPING FOR THEM?”

“ARE YOU WEEPING FOR THEM??”

Well, the truth is, I wasn’t weeping for them.  But I am now.  I am heartbroken.  When did I start caring more about the guys getting paid hundreds of thousands of dollars to play some game then I do for “the least of these” right outside my door who are truly suffering? 

 How did I let this happen?  Yes, I can cheer on my favorite team.  I can deck myself and my kids out in red and yellow.  I can pace around like a crazy lady and yell at my TV over a lousy play.  I can do all of those things.  But, I also better be on my knees at night crying out to God on behalf of those that don’t even have the strength to hope anymore.  I better be teaching my kids how to love…really love their neighbor and to be generous with their time, money, and friendship.  I better be doing something…anything…because that football game is just that…a game.

Real life stuff is happening out there, folks.  We can’t fix it all.  We can’t change it all.  We can’t save them all.  But, we can do something. 

We can be real life game-changers…

“The Spirit of the Lord God is upon me, because the Lord has anointed me to bring good news to the poor, he has sent me BIND UP the brokenhearted, to proclaim LIBERTY to the captives, and the OPENING OF THE PRISON to those who are bound, to PROCLAIM the year of the LORD’S FAVOR; and the day of vengeance of our God; to COMFORT all who mourn…”

-Isaiah 611:1-2

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My name is Sara. What is yours?

There are a myriad of things I could be doing right now (and probably should be doing) but I wanted to take advantage of the quiet, the sunshine, and the delicious cup of coffee to clear my head and make sense of all that has been happening in our lives these last few months.   I have felt so much like Mary lately.  In Luke 2, right after Jesus was born and the shepherds had come to visit, it says in verse 19, “But Mary treasured up all these things, pondering them in her heart.”    I have been doing lots of treasuring and pondering, but today I wanted to do a little sorting.

These last few months have been some of the hardest spiritually that I have ever experienced.  Everything in my circumstances has challenged my faith.  I have felt numerous eyes look upon my family and me and even if they haven’t said it with their mouths, inside they were definitely saying, “These cats are crazy!”  I even told one of my dear friends here one day, I feel like I am walking that fine line between “living radically for the Lord” and just being flat crazy.  I have questioned the Lord.  I have even been angry with Him at times.  But, I have also praised Him and sent up many, many prayers and songs of thanksgiving.  But, the battle has been fierce.  It has been strong.  I wanted to run.  I wanted to hide.  I wanted to just wake up and for everything to be in its rightful place and for all to be well.  

Please don’t misunderstand me.  I am not at all trying to make my circumstances and experiences bigger or worse than what they are.  My point is just that spiritually speaking, I have struggled.  I have battled.  I have doubted instead of trusted.  I have fretted instead of praying.  I have chosen anger and feeling sorry for myself instead of being thankful.  

But, last week I felt like the clouds lifted a bit.  It was like the fog was clearing away and the sun was beginning to peak through.  What was once nothing but confusion started to have meaning.

Saturday night I was up late talking with someone very dear to me here in Guatemala.  We have chatted quite a bit lately actually, but on Saturday she told me she had something that she had wanted to share with me for a while but hadn’t had the opportunity.  I figured it was something related to another big life event that was happening with her, so I was just kind of focused on that.  But, this is what she says to me instead…

                “I just wanted to tell you that I don’t think it is an accident that your name is Sara.”

In my mind, I am thinking, “Well of course it isn’t an accident, my mom always wanted to name her firstborn daughter Sara, so not so much an accident.”  But, I remained quiet.  She continued. 

                “I mean I know it wasn’t an accident but I just think that the Lord really wanted your name to be Sara.  I think He wanted you to be named Sara after Abraham’s wife Sara.”

I can be a little dense sometimes, so I am totally not following where she is going with this.  I am trying to be encouraged as she seemed to feel an urgency to tell me this and for me to understand, but I just really wasn’t following.

                “I think God wanted you to be named Sara because you are going to have many children.”

Stop right there.  This girl ain’t having a bunch of children.  I can barely keep up with the three I have.  I admire all those mamas with their full houses, but I am just not seeing it happening here.  Unless of course we really want to do crazy…cause I can show you crazy. 

                “I don’t mean that you are physically going to have a lot of children.  I think you are going to be like Sara in that you are going to be the mother of many generations.  God is going to use you to be a mother to so many that will never have a mother of their own”

Silence.  I couldn’t speak.  Tears are starting to fill up my eyes.

                “He really is already doing it.  But, I just don’t think you have any idea what is still to come.  God gave you the name Sara because you are going to be a mother to more children, teenagers, and even young adults than you can even imagine. I really think you just need to get ready.  God is going to use you like that.  I am sure of it.  That is why your name is Sara.”

Okay cue the waterworks.  

It was just too much.  For the last six months, I have fought and fretted and stressed and cried and gotten angry.  I have questioned the Lord.  I have asked Him, “Why did you pick us?  Why do we have to do this?  Isn’t there someone else?”   And, then in one short conversation, it all became clear.  

I moved to Guatemala with the desire to serve and love the motherless, the fatherless, the abandoned, and the sick.  This was my vision. It was my calling. It was why I was here.  But, for some reason, it is like I always saw my role here as just another one of many who had dedicated their lives to the same thing.  I didn’t really understand that God wanted to use me…Sara…for something unique.  

Please hear me.  I am not trying to put myself up on some pedestal.  I am no more unique or special than the next girl.  But, for some reason I saw my work here in Guatemala with the same way that I always viewed my very name…ordinary.  Sara was an ordinary name.  Ask any of the other “Sara’s” from my generation and I bet they will tell you the same.  We were one of many.  In elementary school instead of being called by only our first name, we got the “special privilege” of being called by our first name and first initial of our last name.  Whoopee.  

Ordinary.  That is honestly the way I have always viewed my name, myself, my ministry, and pretty much everything about me.  So the fact that this dear friend of mine used my very name…the very essence of why I always felt ordinary to tell me how God was going to use me here in Guatemala…well let’s just say it rocked my world.  

No, I am no more important than the servant next to me.  God is using her in a mighty way too.  But, it is unique.  It is one of kind.  How He is using me isn’t the same as how He is using her.  My God is extraordinary, and in His eyes so am I.  He wants to do much, much more in my life than just “ordinary.” 

Guess what, friend?  You aren’t ordinary either.  Maybe you are a stay at home mama.  Guess what, Mama?  You aren’t ordinary.  God sees you!  He values what you are doing, and in His book, you are a Rockstar Mama!  Maybe you are sitting at a desk, inside a small cubicle, in an office building filled with hundreds of others also sitting at desks, inside of small cubicles.  You aren’t just one of many.  You are one of kind!  You are unique!   You are unmatched.  There is not one like you.   

This isn’t about making much of ourselves.  This is about making much of our God who doesn’t make ordinary.  His specialty is extraordinary, one of a kind, exceptional.  So stop looking at what you do, whatever it is you do, as ordinary.  It isn’t ordinary.  God is doing a work in you that doesn’t look anything like the work He is doing in the one next to you.  

This I know to be true.  Since the moment my friend shared these words with me, I have been living my life differently.  I think since I thought I was ordinary and my work here was ordinary, I didn’t feel much urgency.  If I didn’t do it, oh well, I am sure someone else would come along and do it.  But, now I see that God wants to use me, SARA, in a way that is new and fresh and completely and utterly different than any other Sara on this planet.   I am not just one of many.  I am one completely loved and cherished by the only ONE that matters.  He sees me.  He knows me.  I am His.  And, I am not ordinary.

“Oh Lord, you have searched me and known me!  You know when I sit down and when I rise up; you discern my thoughts from afar.  You search out my path and my lying down and are acquainted with all my ways.  Even before a word is on my tongue, behold, Oh Lord, you know it altogether.  You hem me in, behind and before, and lay your hand upon me….For you formed my inward parts; you knitted me together in my mother’s womb.  I praise you for I am fearfully and wonderfully made. Wonderful are your works; my soul knows it very well”

Psalm 139:1-5,13-14

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a legacy...

It has been one week.

One week.

One week since my family lost someone who has meant so much to us.  She was the matriarch of the family.  She was a mama, a grandmama, a great-grandmama, a great-great grandmama, and she was a dear friend and sister in Christ to many.

To me, though, she was my Grandma Johnnie.  My sweet but sometimes sassy, strong but also sensitive, loving but very truthful, 95 year old great-grandma.  She was my friend.  She was my teacher.  She was my cheerleader.  And, I miss her so dearly.

The thing about the one week mark is everyone has now offered their condolences.  They have all given their hugs and words of encouragement, but they have moved on.  Which really is fine.  It wasn't their grandmother.

But for me and for my family, the pain is still fresh.  It hurts maybe even more than it did a week ago when she went to be with our Father forever.  Because even though we know that she is rejoicing with the Lord and that she is pain free and that she is happier and more free and more ALIVE than she ever was here on earth, the truth still remains that she isn't here with us...and we wish she was.  Maybe more than any other time in my whole life, I just wish I could sit next to her and share all that is burdening my heart.  I would cry of course (much like I am doing right now).  She would tell me to toughen up.  She would tell me I am too sensitive and that I let my emotions get the best of me when I need to be focusing on truth.

But then in the way only she could do, she would speak truth over me and into me.  She would remind me what the Lord's Word says.  She would tell me stories of how she has seen God show Himself faithful to her and to our family over many years.  She would encourage me to keep strong and keep focused.  She would remind me of all I have to be thankful for.  She would tell me that she is praying for me every single day. And, I would know that this is true.  I would know that it is all true, but I would leave her warm living room, encouraged, strengthened, and ready to face all of this stuff head on.

She isn't here, though.  She is gone to be with the Father.  She is free.  And that makes my heart so full of joy....knowing that she is not dead but alive.

Yet, today, my heart still aches.  The ache is strong. The grief is even stronger.

Throughout this week, though, a song has been playing over and over again in my head.  It is a song that I haven't heard in quite a few years but its words were fresh in my heart this week.    It is the song "Legacy" by Nichole Nordeman.  It is a great song and I recommend you taking the time to listen to if you don't know it all ready.  But the chorus is what has just been playing over and over again in my head this week.  It goes like this...

I want to leave a legacy
How will they remember me?
Did I choose to love? Did I point to You enough
To make a mark on things?
I want to leave an offering
A child of mercy and grace who
blessed your name unapologetically
And leave that kind of legacy

There is something that I know to be so true about my Grandma Johnnie.  She is leaving a great legacy.  Her legacy is going to live on well past her 95 years and probably even past the five generations that were privileged to know her.  She was that kind of a woman.  My sweet husband even said the other day that she was the kind of woman who's story of faith could have been in the Bible. 

Today, though, on the week anniversary of her departure to be with the Lord, I want to take the time to record just some of the ways I want to see her legacy live on in me and in my family.

Her Legacy of Strength

My sweet, little, old great-grandma really was the strongest woman I have ever known.  I could probably count on one hand the amount of times I had ever even seen her cry.  Maybe she was so strong because she had to be from the start.  She was born only 2 lbs.  The doctors told her mama that there was no chance, and yet she out lived almost every one of her siblings. 
Maybe her strength came from all that she lived through.  She lived through the Great Depression and both World Wars.  She was a single, working mom when she was  at an age when most girls are still in college.  She then buried her beloved second husband long before she even really had a chance to "grow old" with him.  She had seen countless other family members go home to be with the Lord way too young. 
But, I am certain that really her strength came from the Lord.  Her gaze was always fixed above.
"For this slight momentary affliction is preparing for us an eternal weight of glory beyond all comparison, as we look not to the things that are seen but to the things that are unseen.  For the things that are seen are transient, but the things that are unseen are eternal." -2 Corinthians 4:17-18

Her Legacy of Joy

My Grandma Johnnie was a truly joyful person.  It was rare to see her sad or discouraged.  She always saw the "bright side" of things.  She didn't let little trivial things steal her joy.  For this reason, it was always so fun being around her.  Even if she was having a hard day physically, she was animated.  She was ready to listen and ready to talk.  She would tell her stories and chuckle at the funny parts again.  She loved being around the little kids.  Even though towards the end of her life, it was hard for her to have the stamina to keep up with everyone, so loved to just sit in a seat and watch all the littles play with one another.  She loved the laughter and the fun and the excitement.  She wasn't about to miss out on anything just because she couldn't physically partake in it!
I tend to be a "half-empty" kind of gal.  I don't mean to be pessimistic, but I do have a tendency to be that way if I am not careful.  I want to learn from her legacy to really not "sweat the small stuff" and just rejoice in the moment.

Her Legacy of Cooking/Hospitality

Grandma Johnnie may have spent the last part of her life in the mid-west, but she was a southern girl at heart.  She knew her way around the kitchen better than any Master Chef I have ever met.  Any person stepping foot through her door better be prepared to eat or drink something because there was no way she was letting you leave on an empty stomach.
Sure there are a lot of great cooks out there.  But, there was something different about her food.  Sure she knew her seasonings and none of her food ever needed a little more salt or pepper.  It was always spot on.  But, it was more than that.  Her food really was laced with so much love.  Really and truly, every person that tried her food would finish by saying, "That was the best....I have ever had!"  She was that good.  I mean she did even tell us about Elvis Presley coming into her family's restaurant back before he got crazy famous.
She went out of her way, even up into her last months of life, to cook great food for those she loved.  It brought her such joy, and I want to continue that legacy through my cooking too.  I want family, friends, and strangers alike to walk into my home expecting nothing but leaving with a tummy full of a food and a heart full of blessing.

Her Legacy of Prayer

She was a prayer warrior.  When she told you she would pray for you, she meant it.  So many times people say, "Oh I will pray for that." or "Oh I will be sure to pray for you."  But, then they go home and they forget.  Sure they may have had great intentions, but the truth is they get busy and they don't end up praying as they promised.  Not Grandma Johnnie.
She was a woman who was praying all day, every day.  I once told her that sometimes it was hard for me to get back to sleep after I would have to wake up with one of the kids during the night.  She told me in no uncertain terms that I shouldn't lament the lack of sleep but should instead use that time to pray.  She reminded me that that there was nothing like the quite of the night to lift up the ones I love and the sick and the hurting.  I am certain that she spent many a night laying awake in her bed, crying out to the Father on behalf of so many.
It gave me such comfort in my ministry and in my life as a missionary so far away from home, knowing that my grandma was praying for me and interceding on my behalf.

Her Legacy of Acceptance

Please don't try to be anything other than yourself in her presence because if you do, she will call you out on it.  Grandma Johnnie didn't have the patience for people pretending to be something they weren't.  She wanted you to be yourself, and she accepted you just as you were too.  Sure she may tell you all the reasons why you are making a big mistake or are doing something wrong, but she didn't try to change you.  She loved you right where you were today.
This is something that I find lacking in many Christians today.  We are so quick to judge and find fault, but we are slow to love and embrace.  My Grandma didn't accept sin.  She didn't pretend something was okay if it wasn't.  But, at the same time, she didn't try to change you.  She instead chose to love you and embrace you. In this way, especially, I saw so much of Jesus in her. 

Her Legacy of Faith

I am certain that Johnnie is dancing and singing and just so, so happy and joyful in the presence of her Lord.  She waited 95 years for it.  Jesus wasn't just some guy that she prayed a prayer one day and invited into her heart.  He was her Lord.  He was her Savior.  He was her friend.  He was her Counselor.  He was her Husband.  He was her Teacher.  He was her Joy. He was her Everything.  She loved Jesus with all of her heart.  She believed all of His Word to be true, and it was her bread and water always. 
Grandma Johnnie loved us.  Oh how she loved us.  But, she loved Jesus more.  And in that way, she loved us better.

I know God was so pleased with her. He blessed that once 2 lb little baby with 95 years and with 2 beautiful daughters, 10 grandchildren, 17 great-grandchildren, and 16 great-great children. I am certain that God praised her and said those beautiful words we all long to hear someday, "Well done my good and faithful servant."

I pray that her legacy will live on in me.  May I learn from her example.  May I walk in her shoes.  I am certain they are still far to big for my feet, but I sure will try.

My heart grieves for the loss of this mighty, mighty woman.  But, I know that I am one of the most privileged girls in the world for having known and loved her as I did.  

 

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