You see, just before the celebration of His birth, my family said goodbye to a dear one, my great-grandmother, Violet Pedersen. A couple of days before Christmas, I woke up after sleeping in and was on my way to the shower when mom stopped me to tell me that Grandma Pedersen had gone Home. As I turned on the shower, the tears mixed with streams of water, and thankfulness was the feeling that overwhelmed me.
Have you ever been overwhelmed by thankfulness, overcome with the feeling of gratitude? I was.
As I reflected on those moments and that strong awareness of thankfulness this Easter, I was reminded again of the reasons for my thankfulness. I was, and am, so thankful for Violet Pedersen's life because she lived her life to glorify the living Jesus. She lived a life of influence. Not necessarily loud and boisterous, but strong and consistent. I am so thankful for her because she showed my young heart the character and love of Christ.
And that made me think, again, about the impact of my own life. When I reach the end of it, what will my great-granddaughter say? Will she be thankful? Will she be full of stories of my faithfulness to Him? Will the hard times of my life display His glory and goodness? Will my life encourage her to trust Him more deeply and fully?
Small acts of consistent obedience--I believe that's the road that led Grandma Pedersen into the character that so displayed Jesus. Her life makes me want to live my own more intentionally and fully.
Last fall, I began, really by accident, writing about Grandma Pedersen's life for a creative writing assignment. I've continued to work on it, and I think I might just share some bits of it periodically. Tonight, I'll share the opening section from my story. Praying that you'll be encouraged to live your life well, in honor of the One who is worth it.
Memoir of a Life Lived Fully
Every
morning when I wake up, I look out the window and try to decide how the day is
going to be. Sometimes, when it’s so sunny that the sunshine comes right in my
window to announce the day, I know I’ll be happy all day long. Other days, when
the sky is gray and cloudy, I just get to wondering about how my life will turn
out. Skies have always made me think like that I guess.
And these
days, I’m having a little trouble getting my head straight. Oh, no mistaking,
there are days when I can remember everything: from what I had for breakfast to
whether it was sunny or cloudy the day my first child was born. It was sunny,
by the way. But then there are days when
my mind seems to get wrapped up in some kinda spider web, and those days, I
couldn’t even tell you what year I was born. 1918, in case you’re wondering.
That’s the
most frustrating part, I guess. I know I’m turning into that old lady I never
wanted to be, the one that eventually forgets her children’s names and faces,
those faces whose shapes I carefully memorized when they were little ones. All
those times I wiped off dirty chins and checked to make sure they’d washed
behind their ears…I don’t mind getting old. I’m not afraid to die. Long ago I
took my Grandma's advice and set myself right with my Maker. I don’t worry
for myself, but, oh, I do worry for them.
When I think
about my own self, I’m almost glad I don’t have to remember their reactions on
the days they come to visit and I’m feeling cloudy. I’m sure seeing their
embarrassment at my confusion would be the very worst thing a mother and a
grandmother could endure. I know eventually there will come a time when I don’t
have any more sunny days. But while I do have a few left, I thought I would
write it all down; I’m going to keep myself alive and well and sunny. For them.
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