A New Season

I'm sitting on the sofa holding my newborn daughter thinking about life seasons.  I peruse my way through the various life stages that I have lived and observed feeling awed that we experience so much. 

Yesterday the call came that my grandmother doesn't have much time left. I have expected that call for ten years. After all she is 97. It still hurt to think about her dying. It hurts to think of my mom losing her momma. My heart doesn't seem to care that grandmother hadn't been able to be "mom" for years.  Even though I've been prepared for grandmother's home going for years I am still sad that her passing is now imminent. My brain tries to paint the picture of my memories with her absent and fails. New memories will need to be made.

Part of this season I'm in is sleepless nights and diapers. My mother is in a season of care giving and headed into a season of grief.  Grandmother has entered a season of letting go. They all overlap. My heart hurts, celebrates, laughs, cries, is thankful and angry all at once. This is life. Seasons that overlap and contradict each other. Seasons to be lived. Seasons that require me to reach out to the Father for grace, comfort, guidance, stamina and wisdom.

I watch my baby's face and picture my grandmother in my mind. Both are cherished people. I am blessed, I get to know them both. I will share grandmother with baby as she grows through my memories. I will walk this season glad for my mother's wisdom. I will choose to remember that there is Grace for all these seasons. He will carry us when we stumble and dance with us in times of joy.

Lord, thank you for walking with me in every season. Help me to remember to turn to you when nights feel long, hearts feel heavy' and especially when joy over flows.

This post was written in September 23rd 2013. My baby was 18 days old. My Grandmother passed on to glory on September 25th.

To bring a Saint home....

What goes in on heaven in the final hour of a person's life on earth? Do the angels run about fluffing the pillows in the mansion in glory? Does Jesus check the book of Life for that person's name? Is there a welcoming committee formed? Do those who have gone before gather to rejoice over the loved ones arrival there? Have they been holding vigil in heaven these last weeks along side those that loved him here as he grew weaker?

I don't know. I won't know until it is my turn to arrive. But in my imagination I want it to have been an ARRIVAL! Trumpets and silken robes. But then I do not think that was his style. Perhaps... Peter met him a ways outside the gates holding old Chief, his great bay horse old no more, saddled and bridled. Perhaps his son, Ricky, was waiting further on with Resheba ready to ride through the gates with him. I can see Sadie-Dog bouncing about joyfully greeting her master. I can hear his laughter and snorting as he greets her. I see him looking around and shouting "GOOD MORNING GLORY!" His frame, weakened by age here on Earth, made strong as he places his boot in Chief's stirrup. Peter opens the Gates of Heaven, and this man who spent his life showing others the way to God for so many years looks upon the face of his beloved Saviour sitting astride His charger. I imagine Jesus held out His hand and said "Well done my son! Let's go for a ride!"

"Who?" you ask. "Who is this man of whom you speak?"

I answer you with a story of faith.

Once there was a girl. She was a good girl, mostly. Life was simple and good. Her parents had a friend, an older man, a preacher, who would often stop by. So often did he stop they kept a twin bed set up in the basement in case he needed a place to rest on his travelings. The man sometimes came and went with just a note and some missing brownies as the only evidence of his visit. He was an evangelist/ preacher/cowboy all rolled together. He loved life. He loved his Lord. He showed the girl what living for God meant. He took her tears and anger when she came to him fuming against injustice or hurts. The preacher man even calmed her and helped her to find answers when she questioned her faith. He helped open the well of hunger for the Lord.

Reverend Richard M. Burns, went to be with Jesus, today, March 16th, 2010.

Jesus Lover. Husband. Father. Teacher. Evangelist. Scout. Horseman. United Methodist Pastor. Sausage maker. Mentor. Hunter. Prophet. Woodsman.

A man whose passion was sharing the gospel of Jesus Christ with everyone he met. Papa Dick became my extra "dad". I had a perfectly good Dad. But God knew I needed Dick and I felt like another one of his kids. Maybe I was one of those people who God looked down and said "ooh! That one she needs two Dads... one will never be enough."

Anyway Papa Dick was there for me. He made a special trip to Indiana to officiate my wedding and then got so excited preaching he forgot part of the service. When he would do camp meetings for a church he would get so wrapped up in his message that he would stomp and shout and carry on. He had the joy of Lord right down to his bones. Singing because his Lord was so precious to him, he couldn't not sing. Although his pitch was sometimes questionable, his joy never was. I know Papa Dick was human and had human failings, we all do. He was stubborn and could be a know it all. But I loved him. I am the Christian I am today because of his influence and obedience to witness his faith.


I know this was long. But as I grieve my loss and celebrate his gain I wanted to share my Papa Dick with you. And I wonder how heaven prepared to bring a saint home...

Caite


*** The picture above is Papa Dick with Love Bug at her dedication in 2003.  The one to the right is him with Bright One in 2005 at her dedication.***