She had the softest hands and the most lovely green eyes. She hugged you like she really meant it. She was often silly and fun and always unrelenting in her unconditional love for all of us. Though she came from humble beginnings, she lived as one who knew she was the daughter of the king. Though she was never wealthy by this world's standards, she was rich in kind words and love and gave them generously to all she knew. She never had any career to speak of or power or success, but her influence in the world was great even if it was just to her children, grandchildren, and great grandchildren. The impact she had on all of us will last for generations to come. Just like all of us, she had her struggles and suffered perhaps more than most. Yet she knew from whom her help came - the Lord.
This dependence on waiting upon the Lord, even in times of pain, is what will always remain with me. Over the past four decades, she and I had many opportunities to speak of these spiritual matters. Ever since Papaw passed and she became less and less able to get around as easily, she questioned why God would leave her here - what purpose was she serving? I honestly sometimes struggled with how to respond to this. Obviously, we loved her and just wanted her around, but, in the eyes of man, there appeared to be little or no contribution to society. Shortly before she passed, when we knew she was not long for this world, it occurred to me that her purpose at the end of her life was the same as it was at the beginning of her life and which is the same for all of us no matter what stage of life we happen to be in: to love God with all our being. While I was able to tell her this over the phone a few days before she passed, I don't know if she was in a state where she could really understand what I was saying. Though she may not have known it, she nevertheless succeeded in this all the days I knew her.
When we had this phone conversation, she was in a shared hospital room, in an uncomfortable hospital bed, and I was sitting in the parking lot of an amusement park several states away. I prayed that I would be able to look into her beautiful green eyes and hold her weathered but wonderful hands again before she left us to be with Jesus. While we raced home, she was surrounded by her amazing daughters and other granddaughters that she had held, hugged, prayed for, and cherished. Not only that, but I am certain that she was surrounded by other family members who had long passed who had done the same for her. My mom tells me she would reach out her arms to the hospital ceiling and call for her mom and for one of her brothers in her sleep.
Hebrews 12:1-3 says: "Therefore, since we are surrounded by such a great cloud of witnesses, let us throw off everything that hinders and the sin that so easily entangles. And let us run with perseverance the race marked out for us, fixing our eyes on Jesus, the author and perfecter of our faith. For the joy set before him, he endured the cross, scorning its shame, and sat down at the right hand of the throne of God. Consider him who endured such opposition from sinners, so that you will not grow weary and lose heart." These were the verses on my mind as we finally saw her in person in her hospice room. Moments of lucidity washed over her like waves, but she was still with us. When she realized that Tony and I were there, she smiled and said she loved her grandbabies. It was as if she was just waiting to tell us this one more time (as if we didn't already know). As we tried in vain to make her legs a little more comfortable, I thought I should remind her that she would soon see Jesus face-to-face. I leaned over her bed and softly said she would soon be with him, the desire of her heart. At these words, her face lit up with the biggest, brightest smile I've ever seen on her, and her chest lifted upwards as if she were reaching her whole body for him. Like a running coach, I told her to finish her race. To fix her eyes on Jesus and to run home. Her smile widened again, even wider than before, and she replied, clear as day, "I'm running! I'm running!" She hadn't physically run in many years and certainly was never an athlete, but there's no doubt she was running that night - and running to win the prize. She was at the end of her race with the finish line straight ahead. What a privilege it was to be in that room on that sacred ground with her as the veil between this world and the next was pulled back!
That was the last meaningful conversation I had with her as she breathed her last the next morning. What a legacy - not only to have lived a life that pointed to the goodness of God but to also finish your race with your eyes firmly fixed on Jesus! That is not a legacy that will soon be forgotten by me and hopefully my children and their children.
I want so badly to talk to her about this. To tell her that she did what she was called to do and did it so well. To tell her that I am so proud of her. It may not be anytime soon, but rest assured, it will be one of the first conversations I have when I get to heaven. She did what she was so worried she couldn't do, but she and I know that it wasn't her but our God that supplied her the strength and endurance she needed to finish her race in such a flourish. To God be the glory forever and ever.
Shortly after my last interaction with her in hospice, I was reminded of a current song popular on the radio called "Running Home" by Cochren & Co. I can't hear it now without smiling, crying and thinking of her when it gets to the last verse:
Gonna run this race 'til my final step
Gonna sing this song 'til my final breath
Let the weight of this world go
Gonna be no tears, gonna be no pain
And when I see that smile on my Savior's face
I won't be walking, I'll be running home
He called my name (He called my name)
And He stole my shame (He stole my shame)
Everything changed when I came running home
(I'm running, I'm running home)
Out of the dark (out of the dark)
Into His arms (into His arms)
No more running away, I'm running home
I'm running, I'm running home
I'm running, I'm running home
I'm running, I'm running home
Everything changed when I came running home
I'm running, I'm running home
I'm running, I'm running home
I'm running, I'm running home (yeah, I'm running home)
But I've also been reminded that her life - this life - is not just about us running but also about us being chased, chased by the goodness of God, which Mamaw was always quick to talk about. There's a song we sing in church which reminds me of the faithful life that she lived and of God's never-ending faithfulness to us, and whenever we sing it, I know we're just joining in with her and all the other saints already in heaven:
I love You, Lord
Oh Your mercy never fails me
All my days
I've been held in Your hands
From the moment that I wake up
Until I lay my head
Oh I will sing of the goodness of GodAll my life You have been faithful
All my life You have been so so good
With every breath that I am able
Oh I will sing of the goodness of GodI love Your voice
You have led me through the fire
In the darkest night
You are close like no other
I've known You as a Father
I've known You as a friend
I have lived in the goodness of God
OhAnd all my life You have been faithful
All my life You have been so so good
With every breath that I am able
Oh I will sing of the goodness of GodYeah yeah yeah
'Cause Your goodness is running, it's running after me
Your goodness is running, it's running after me
With my life laid down, I'm surrendered now, I give You everything
Your goodness is running, it's running after me
The day of her funeral, we made a quick pass by the old house where she grew up and spent several of her later years. There we saw a lovely monarch butterfly that came and sat on the hood of the van (and wouldn't move for some time) and a streak of blue in the sky that turned out to be an indigo bunting playing in the open field by the creek where Papaw kept his garden. Just as God supplies all that the butterflies and birds need, he supplied all Mamaw and Papaw needed. I know he will do the same for those of us who remain in this world. His goodness is always running after us.
She always told me (and anyone else who would listen) two stories from when I was little: 1) how I once told her (funnily, probably when she was an old lady in her forties and I was four) that I didn't know what I would do when she died and 2) how when she returned from a trip to the Holy Lands that I told the person holding me that "I think I just want my Mamaw." Both sentiments still hold true. I still want my Mamaw, and I don't know what we'll do without her. And yet, I am not without hope. I know now without a doubt that she is now part of that great cloud of witnesses. Just as her family did for her, I know she's on the other side of that finish line cheering me on as I strive to keep my faced turned up towards Jesus to run my own race. I can almost hear her whisper in my ear "Keep running, Alicia! The finish line makes it all worth it!"
