My grandmother will turn 102 this year in May. Almost universally, the response I hear from others upon revealing her age is a very positive one. "Wow, that's great!"
But, the reality is that all is not great with Grandma. She has trucked onward for years now with little quality of life and a healthy dose of fear following her around in both waking and sleeping hours. She is lucky to be in a warm, clean, and functional assisted living facility in Dunedin (Florida). A few in the facility truly like her, hold affection for her, and bolster her daily life both in care of her body and her heart. These few think she is a sweet lady, although most of her words are now in German and no one really understands what she is trying to say. Most think she is no longer lucid, in part because she only speaks in a language they don't understand and in part because she is, after all, 101 years old.
But when throwing assumption and presumption to the side and simply being present with her, I find her quite lucid. She may fade or venture out into another place where I can't reach her, but for the most part, she is present, aware, connected. I have struggled for many years in how to speak with her about God when I am not sure if she hears me, understands me, or has any interest in listening to what can be heard and understood. I have felt for many years that the Lord continues to hold onto her life here in this broken world, because He is waiting for her to reach for Him.
I have selfish motives for her. I want her to reach to Him, so that He can embrace her with His peace, fill her with love that will cleanse all the fear and worry away. I long for a moment in what her life has become where there is no more anxiety, no more fear, and no more pain. At the same time I long, I know that I can't deliver those things for her. They can only come from one place. So, I pray. I listen and try to understand. I hold her hand. I try to say words in response to her that indicate that I have been listening, if nothing else.
My sister Heidi has power of attorney for Grandma. Heidi moved to Tennessee almost a year ago now and only visits once a year. I have the terrible habit of putting off going to visit Grandma when I am in Florida, although once I am with her, I have no real understanding of why I put something off that is not so unsettling but is still so important. I have a lot of growing to do and I hope I do it fast.
Today, Grandma continued to repeat "Help, Help, I am in pain … no one will help me here" in German. She told me today that God will not help her, that He has given all the help He can to her. She underestimates Him like so many of us do. I hope He finds the opportunity and open door to point out the error in her estimation very soon.
When I leave her room, I long to leave love behind that will comfort her when no one is there. Last year, I made a quilt for her to accomplish just that, but the powers that be have tucked it away in the closet somewhere and it no longer rests on her bed.
That is yet another cool attribute of an all loving and very real God. You can't tuck His love away in a closet somewhere and lose it in the darkness. No, His love just comes oozing right back out of any darkness into which it is cast, right back into the broken world and ready to do battle once again.
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