As I type I am sitting by the bedside of my maternal grandmother as she mildly struggles to take her last few breaths on this earth. Though it may seem odd to many, I just finished packing the items from her room into my car. To some that might seem disrespectful knowing that she is still here a short while longer but, to me, it makes perfect sense. Doesn’t everyone pack or have help packing their bags when they’re preparing to move? It’s true. She is moving. In some respect I understand as I recently moved myself, albeit it’s definitely a different type of move. One of the first people I wanted to call when I finally got my set of keys was my Mamaw (that’s what I call her). She was one of those people I always enjoyed sharing my accomplishments and blessings with because, on most occasions, she had a hand in helping me pray things into fruition. I had already envisioned my ushering her through the front door and saying, “What do you think of my new house?” And I imagined her saying, “Oh, baby doll, it’s beautiful! God is so good!” to which I would agree. Because of all her recent medical problems she had not reached a place where she was healthy enough for such a visit.
Her home down here is nothing to brag about. It was a meager existence but was her little piece of heaven and served as a place of comfort for me. It was that place where I fell forty feet out of the pecan tree and broke my arm. It was the place my brother got attacked by the neighborhood dog and I carried him all the way to back to the house. It was the place I learned how to ride a bike. It was the place I watched her make hundreds, if not thousands, of pans of biscuits. In regards to earthly riches, she had none. But she was one of the richest people I knew. She had friends and family that loved her more than words could express on paper. And she had a God that had brought her through trials and unimaginable loss over her 79 years.
She has spent most of her life waiting for this moment. Her moving day. She’s been preparing to move to her new home for decades now. The two of us will be leaving this place soon. This nursing home has been wonderful to her but we both have somewhere else to be. She will get to our destination before I will, but it’s always been that way. No doubt she will have my bed ready and will be pulling a pan of biscuits out of the oven when I walk in through those gates. I imagine her meeting me at the front door of her new mansion stating excitedly, “What do you think of my new house?” To which I will reply, “Oh, Mamaw, it’s beautiful God is SO good!” and then we will both make our way to the feet of the Father to worship him for a few thousand years while those biscuits sit on the table getting cold.
Goodbyes are terrible and I refuse to utter those words. For now, all I’ll say is, “See you soon, Mamaw!” You will be missed down here but I wouldn’t keep you here for anything in this world. You deserve this! Tell everyone up there I said hello and I look forward to our family reunion soon!
“Eye hath not seen, nor ear heard, neither have entered into the heart of man, the things which God hath prepared for them that love him.” 1 Corin. 2:9
Betty Jean Harris Lyles
May 19, 1937 – Dec. 22, 2016