Many of my childhood memories of her included drives in my grandparents’ RV with Grandma in the passenger seat, a map or atlas spread on her lap, and a constant verbal barrage to Grandpa about where to turn. She was an early prototype of the female voice coming from the GPS unit! Not to mention she’d always toss in interesting-to-her tidbits about the places we passed and the people who lived or worked there.
Even at the end of her life — this time with me in the driver’s seat — Grandma was still pointing the way home. “Over the railroad tracks. Stoplight. Turn left. Two streets. Turn (sweeping hand gesture) onto Franklin. … Did you know my mother’s middle name was Franklin? … Left up here and then over there (more hand gestures). Push the button (for the garage door opener). We’re here.”
Less than 48 hours later, Grandma was truly home in Heaven.
As we gathered in California for the burial and memorial service, many stories emerged about Grandma’s knack for navigation toward her eternal home. Faithful church attender and giver. Church organist. Singing hymns all day as she went about her chores. Sewing clothes for the needy. Feeling convicted about reading the local newspaper before her Bible … so she got up an hour earlier to have her daily devotions done before the newspaper arrived. Faithfully praying for each child, grandchild, and great-grandchild by name, plus a long list of others, every day.
Daily time in the Word. Prayer. Worship. Service. Fellowship with other believers.
How do we get home? Grandma pointed the way.
What about you? Where is home and how do you get there? Did someone show you the way? Are you pointing others in the right direction?