Ganny

Last Friday my maternal grandmother, Nellie Sewell, died. She was 91 years old and ready to go "home". She told us this on many occasions and was anxious to get to Bill (my grandad). My cousin Melissa created this beautiful video tribute. She wrote the poem, How to Remember a Paper Bird, and read it at the funeral. Toward the end of her life Ganny often wanted to take a drive out to Primrose, where she was born and spent her youth. Missy said that it must have held fond memories, and it would be natural to want to revisit such a place. A different season than the one she was in. I love the video because it highlights the seasons of her life. I am no poet, and not such an eloquent writer (or as talented of an artist as my cousin). However, I am overwhelmed with thoughts and feelings about the passing of my grandmother. The seasons...

(This probably does not make sense- It is nothing more than my jumbled up thoughts. I am afraid if I wait until I can pen them perfectly that I never will.)

Standing by her, she lays so still- the baby moves- So peaceful drenched in the pale pink- Giant roses- She wears lipstick. If she could offer me some, she would. Her great-grandson is active and alive in my womb- being knit together, someone fearfully and wonderfully made- He knows all the days of our lives- Every hair on our head- Written out before creation- Seasons. Season to be born, and a season to die- Time to forgive- I sit between sisters. Six children run and play as the wind blows through the tent- How Great thou Art- A tiny voice sings- How much I love my sons- How much she loved her daughters- How much He loves us that He gave His only one- We no longer die- Oh death, where art thou sting? We still cry. I love this season of my life- Please don't take it away- Full of hope, grace, and struggles, but mostly new, young, precious lives- Thank you Lord for hers. Thank you dear Jesus for Ganny- We pray at night- Please tell her we said hello.