Picture of Grace

In July of 1992, I was twelve years old when I had my first encounter with death.

My step-grandfather, Link, married my Grandma when I was about six years old (not positive on the age, it was so long ago!) He was a pretty interesting man. A self-published author of many articles and books--he had all kinds of stories about everything from his life as a "hobo" to his tales of Big Foot and UFO's. I remember him taking my grandma on trips in their camper in search of UFO sightings. He also made this huge Big Foot where he had it stored out in their shop. It was the silliest thing to see, but when you're a young kid, sometimes the silliest things still creep you out.


Link was also a very prejudiced man. We weren't allowed to watch the Cosby show at their house, which was one of my favorite shows growing up. It always bothered me that he felt that way, but I was grateful that he never really pushed his views or feelings on us. I don't remember any racial slurs coming from his mouth, but I'm 31 now and my memory is a little fuzzy regarding details of my younger years.


I can go into all kinds of great stories and share special memories I have of spending the night with my grandparents and all the fun things we did, but that's not the point of this blog. Even though my grandpa was a neat and fun guy, he wasn't perfect. I don't really know what his spiritual beliefs were, but I think they were towards the Universal mindset. I don't know what he believed about Jesus, or heaven and hell. But I know without a doubt as to where he is today.

You see, I was twelve when I watched his life slip from this life to the eternal. He was in a hospital bed in their home, next to the front room's large picture window, so he could watch the hummingbirds flit about. They were his favorite and I will always associate hummingbirds with my grandpa now. Anyway, my grandpa was not doing well at all, and he couldn't talk because of the phlegm in his lungs. I remember standing beside his hospital bed, just gazing at him and feeling bad because I could see the pain in his eyes. I watched as my mom, being a nurse, would wipe the phlegm from his mouth, and then help with any other need that came up to help my grandpa feel more comfortable.


After awhile and knowing that he wasn't long for this world, my mother went to her purse and retrieved a post card she had gotten that had the 23rd Psalm on it.


Taking his hand, she began to read the Scripture to him. I remember watching his face the whole time as I stood near, and I could tell that he was crying. His breathing grew more raspy, and his eyes looked even more pained. But not pained in the physical sense. More like remorseful. I remember my older brother crying on the couch nearby as my mother began to tell my grandpa about Jesus and His forgiveness.


She said something like this: "Link, I know you can't talk, but Jesus knows your thoughts. If you are sorry for your sins, all you have to do is tell him. If you asked Jesus to forgive you, squeeze my hand."


He lightly squeezed her hand, his breathing was harder and I knew his spirit was crying out. I could see it in eyes. Then my mother told him gently, "Go be with Jesus, Link. You can go be with Jesus."


And two hard breaths later, he was gone.


Being 12 years old, I didn't quite understand what had just happened. He was suddenly so still and silent. He looked like he had peacefully fallen asleep. It wasn't until my mom began to comb his hair that I asked, "Is he...gone?"


I don't really remember her response, I just remember my grandmother coming into the room and a nurse was there and then soon a big black car came to the house, and they took his body and set it down inside a body bag. I remember watching them zip up the bag except for when they reached his face, they asked my grandmother if she wanted it zipped all the way.

I then remember standing on the porch and seeing a hummingbird flying around as we waved goodbye to the big black hurse as it drove out of the driveway. As we waved goodbye this warm gentle breeze swept over us. And all I remember feeling was the peace of knowing where my grandpa went.


And now, 19 years later, my grandmother is on the "decline". That is the word the hospice nurse is using when speaking of her health. I went with my parents to the nursing home yesterday and what stuck out to me the most, was not my grandma looking so frail, although that was hard to see. It wasn't that she seemed like she didn't hear or understood a word we said. It wasn't that she couldn't form her words well, like maybe she might have had a mini stroke, although that saddened me. No, what stood out to me the most was her sweet smile, though I knew she was in pain and not feeling her best from hardly eating anything, she sat there in her wheel chair, and smiled as she made eye contact with us.


Just seeing that smile, brought back so many good memories of her and Link and the sleepovers my cousin and I shared with them. The craft making, eating popcorn, looking through old picture albums, swimming in the creek, her courageously charging into a swarm of yellow jackets to spray them when my brother was stung several times. It brought back memories of going to Wendy's for a burger and a frosty. Of birthdays and Christmas get-togethers.These memories went through my mind like still pictures, only they had a red tint to them.


For awhile I resented grandma after my grandpa passed away. She started dating and there was a man whom she lived with for many years. They never married and for some reason I blamed him for the change I saw in my grandma. She didn't come around as often. Didn't come to our school concerts or birthdays. They always were off square dancing or on some trip. I even remember saying at one point that I didn't think I would cry whenever my grandma passed away because I felt like I didn't know her anymore and that she was the one who never had time for us--that she didn't want to spend time with us.


Now, after seeing her go through Alzheimer's and her health fading away--I regret not trying harder to get to know my grandma more. I'm sorry for the bitter words I spoke of her and being a mother myself now, I understand how hard it is to try to teach your children all that you can in the ways they should go and how to make good decisions in life; how to love and discipline them--but many times you come out feeling like a complete failure. There is no perfect mother or grandmother. And that red tint I saw in my mind of those still photos of memories--was the blood of Jesus and His grace covering her. I know she knows the Lord. And He has erased those imperfections and failures with His blood when He died on the cross. He did the same for my grandpa, and he accepted that gift of grace just before his last breath.


It has been 10 years today, since our nation fell under attack and many lives were lost. I'm sure as this nation remembers, there are those out there that still ask, "Where was God?"

I'll tell you. He was everywhere. I saw Him yesterday in my mom, as she tenderly wiped my grandmother's face with a wash cloth and then combed her hair. He was with my Grandpa, holding his hand as He encouraged my mom to read the 23rd Psalm to him, so that he would could go be with Jesus. He was with the many firefighters, police men and women, giving them the courage to run towards the danger and horror of the twin towers instead of running away, staying beside them every step of the way. He was with all the EMT's and doctor's and nurse's, giving them calm and control as they helped those who were hurt and suffering. He moved the hearts of many church's and store owners and whoever else that had a large space to use as a warehouse for food and water and shelter.


I see Him everywhere, everyday, using whoever is willing to be used by Him to do His work. Blessing everyone in the process. Both the giver and the receivers.


A couple Sundays ago, my son came out of his Sunday school class holding a teddy bear. I asked him, "Patrick, how did you get the teddy bear? Was it kid buck day?"


"No, today we learned about grace," he said as he hugged the bear.


"Oh, and what does grace mean?" I asked to test him.


"It means getting what you don't deserve," he replied.


I just want to say to all of you out there who don't know Jesus, it's never too late to go to Him and tell Him how sorry you are of the things you've done. There is nothing you could ever do--that would make Him stop loving you. He will wait until your very last breath to wash you with His blood, and replace your sins with His grace and forgiveness, if you'd only let Him. I am a witness to that.


"But now a righteousness from God, apart from law, has been made known, to which the Law and the Prophets testify. This righteousness from God comes through faith in Jesus Christ to all who believe. There is no difference, for all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God, and are justified freely by His grace through the redemption that came through Christ Jesus. God presented Him as a sacrifice of atonement, through faith in His blood. He did this to demonstrate His justice, because in His forbearance He had left the sins unpunished--He did it to demonstrate His justice at the present time, so as to be just and the One who justifies those who have faith in Jesus." Romans 3:21-26


May you all come to know His Amazing Grace,
Love in Christ Jesus,
Alyssa Bender