I was sitting here thinking of other awesome memories I have of grandma and grandpa. I think the thing that comes to mind over and over is how loving and gracious they were.
My halo was misplaced somewhere around the age of 12. I gave my parents a heavy helping of grief. For those of you that are shocked, I also became really great at wearing masks. As I grew into my teenage years my rebellion and crazy stunts only escalated. I honestly thought that I had everyone of the extended family fooled. In all reality mom and dad were reaching out to grandma and grandpa (which may be one of the reasons I am still alive).
When we moved back to Lubbock, grandma was in the hospital. I spent quite a bit of time up there just talking to her. Her stories were memorizing. I think I could listen to her for hours at a time. One night she asked me to stay the night with her. I agreed. That night she told me that she knew of the choices I had made. She told me that even though they didn't make her happy, she still loved me. She told me that she thought I was a beautiful young lady and she knew God had great plans for me. She told me that she loved me not only because I was her granddaughter, but because I was a child of the God she loved so much. I remember that day just like it was yesterday. That night she taught me of forgiveness and grace. She taught me that my past was my past and with Christ's blood, it is as far as the east is from the west.
After Mariah died, I often thought of how grandma must be up in heaven, free from pain or stiffness, rocking my sweet baby to sleep.