The Letter I Didn’t Get To Read You…

A letter to my grammie that I wrote a day too late.

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A letter to my grammie that I never got to read her…

Grammie,

I remember the first time I realized how big my love for you was.  I was 10, and I was hot on your heels in the kitchen and you turned to me and said, “Chels, I am going to trip over you if you keep following me everywhere.”  As I laughed, I realized I was doing because one of the safest places in my entire life was being close to the heels of you.  I remember papa putting me to bed in my bedroom at your house, but I always came out.  I always came out because I knew if I talked at you long enough through the vent, you would eventually come up and read me another bedtime story.  I don’t know anyone who does the voices and characters like you. 

            When I was a teenager, you held me close during heartbreaks and opened your door to me no matter how reckless or hardheaded I was being.  My room at my grammie and papas was always open.  As I became a young adult, I treasured you more than ever as I remembered our moments with the snapdragons in the backyard, our lunch breaks at your desk at Northview, and your precious cards and thoughtful gifts no matter how tight money was.

Around 5 years ago, when you got diagnosed with cancer, was the first time I had to begin to wonder what would happen to me, if something happened to you.  I immediately got into therapy, LOL, but truly… I couldn’t even imagine it.  Mom would try and tell me that you wouldn’t live forever, and I probably did need to start trying to think about the possibility that you wouldn’t make it, but I just couldn’t.

            Over this last year and a half (after you already beat cancer) I sat in the ICU more times than I can count begging God to give me more moments because I just cannot do this life without you.  I realize now my prayers were so selfish because you were in so much pain.  I want you to know I never meant to keep you here in such struggle, but my heart feels unexplainably empty without you here.  I would do anything for you, truly.  I would have done anything to change the circumstances or to bring you back.  I would do anything to be able to read this letter to your face while you told me to, “knock it off” because you hated these types of conversations.

            So, let me make a few promises that I intended to pinky with you when we had the chance…

Grammie, I promise to be a better homemaker.  I cannot even list the number of times you wanted me to cook more and I was too busy.  I am so sorry we didn’t end up side by side in the kitchen for all the recipes we bookmarked on Facebook together.  I also promise to be a mom that paid attention like you did.  I promise to give gifts that required listening, write cards that make others cry, and try not to miss the games, class parties, or lunch break moments.  I promise to donate to the humane society, check up on Gracie, and get the family together (no matter who voted for Trump- I swear)!  I promise to wear my hair down more, take trips to the beach more, get back to Mackinaw Island and stand right under the arch holding your photo in my arms.  I promise to live the rest of my life as a person with integrity, honesty, and good character because it is what you taught and modeled to me.  I promise to treat others with an unremarkable kindness (until the food ends up coming out cold), and I promise to tell Rory every single day (when I am strong enough to talk about it) about the beauty, grace, and wonder that was her Gigi.

Grammie…

I hope there is a way my words fall right from my gut wrenching sobs, to your incredible, fully healed body.

I love you more than any drop of water in the ocean, and to the moon… and back. Until we dance together again…

I will be missing you more than any words could capture.

With the most broken heart I have ever had,

Love,

Your girl,

Little nutbrown hair,

Chels.

Prove it God, Show Me.

I remember when I was younger, I used to always get in fights with my mom.  We could not have been more opposite when I was in middle and high school.  I used to get very dramatic and although it sounds horrible now, I used to always say, “I am going to kill myself.”  I said it so often that one day my mom said, “GET IN THE CAR”, and proceeded to tell me we were going to the hospital.  I instantly went into a panic, “WHAT, WHY!?”  I screamed.  My mom said something that I will never forget that day.  She explained to me that if I really meant what I said she was going to have me prove it by admitting it to a hospital and checking me in for help.  I could not believe it.  I am pretty sure I never made an empty suicide threat for dramatics to my mother again.

I think faith is similar to my experience with my mom.  I think we get in situations where we ask God to “prove it”.  If He really is who He says, then He needs to prove it.  It seems a little like we are the enemy when he tempted Jesus (Matthew 4:1-11).  I am also convinced sometimes we ask God to prove it without even realizing it we are asking that of God.

“If God really wants me to stay in ministry, He will open lots of doors for me.”  “If God really wants good for me there is no way I won’t get this promotion.”  “God is good so I know this round of IVF can’t fail.”

The concern is not in those statements, as much as it is in our hearts and minds when we are forced to respond to those statements when our prayers are not answered in the way we had desired.  In February I opened up a prayer journal I started three days before my papa unexpectedly passed away.  Each night my prayer read, “God please provide healing to my papa, that is my only prayer.”  My papa passed away after three consecutive nights of that prayer (not to mention the countless nights of prayer for that in the previous months).  The thing is I never once questioned God throughout this grief.  Ironically, that has had me wrestling with faith more than I ever expected.  It has put me in a place where I have thought, “why does this terrible and traumatic situation not make me question God?”

It was in wrestling with this in the last few months that God revealed something to me.  Let me preface this by sharing I do not think God ever needs to prove himself.  I believe that faith will come with questions and doubts which I know God welcomes, but I also believe throughout scripture we see enough of God’s miracles to suffice a foundation of faith that doesn’t require any proving.  But God knows, understands, and comes alongside our humanity enough to “prove it” when we ask, in ways we so seldomly acknowledge when our lives are flipped upside down.

In order to hear my heart, you have to have some context.  In the last 10 months I have been through marital issues, losing a job, losing custody of two children we had full anticipation of adopting but relatives stepped up, & that really is just the major things.  So, in January when my grandpa (who was like a father to me) died completely unexpectedly you would expect my faith to shatter just a little.  In this moment though, God reminded me of a book in the Bible, 1 Kings.

1 Kings 18:33-38

In the 18^th chapter of 1^st Kings God “proves” Himself in fire.  It was a moment where there was NO denying the miracles and presence of God since Elijah made sure the offering was overwhelmed with water so the only way it could burn was if God himself lit it.  Vs 38, “Then the fire of the Lord fell and burned up the sacrifice.”  God decided to “prove it”.  This story in 1^st Kings made me think about all of the “fire” moments God has “proven” Himself to me.  The stories I do not even think about but have been instrumental in reminding me that the God I know is active and alive in my life.  I wonder if, as our walk with God ages, we start to forget about the times “the fire from the Lord fell” and set our lives ablaze with hope.

The pain and grief from losing my papa will forever be a part of my story, but it doesn’t alter or take away the incredible goodness of God and all of the moments He has held me tight as I said, “prove it”, “show me”.  My prayer for you tonight is that amidst deep pain or grief you take moments to think about what has helped solidify your faith.  What are the moments God has sent fire and shown you His faithfulness?  While we ponder and pray over the moments our hearts shatter, let us not forget even in those very moments He is holding it tight.

I love you,

Chels.

Rest in heaven my sweet papa.. I cannot wait to meet you there.

1.25.2019