Victory. Fly High, lil Chickadee.

Celebrate.

1.23. 2018

Sky high, city lights below on this mid-winter Tuesday evening in late January. Stars above me, the wings are next to me on this empty plane. There are several metaphors that can come from this. It’s an empty plane with an empty heart or one with life and laughter. The stars and city lights below are a reflection of the beauty and reminder of the closeness to ‘home’ we are.

Almost 365 days to the day to be exact.

365 days of rejoicing that there is goodness in the mourning.

365 days of learning to let go and to love others.

365 days of learning that we all have our own way of letting go.

365 days of remembering the life of loved ones.

365 days of trying to understand.

This year we celebrate a year without my Meme, but we also celebrate the life of Mimi.

You see, 365 days ago I sat in this very same position saying see you later to my other grandmother, this week we say see you later to Mimi. But, what a beautiful 365 days it has been.

As a child I was so beyond grateful to have both of my grandmothers, I did not have the chance to meet either of my grandfathers but I was blessed to spend countless hours with both of my grandmothers. Ever since I could walk I knew they were older than most, but I did not know how precious that was as I got older through high school and college. Both, of my grandmothers lived to be late in their age and up until their last days they were both there.  Sweet, precious moments and times that we are forever grateful for. 

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Victory. Victory has won. Jesus welcomed home an angel who was ready to be home.

 "She wasn’t a fancy person, she never wanted people to think about her, but she was mine. The person everyone remembered and loved in her quiet voice.

“Go outside and see the sunset. Do you see the pink, blue and orange hues?” My grandmother would call to say every so often.“Now you see the colors, you see the painted handiwork of the life we have been given.” Whatever I was doing at that time, I would go outside wherever I was and look and feel connected.

My grandmother and grandfather lived at the corner of Eldridge & Forest Park Drive in Beaumont for over 60 years. I never met my grandfather, but I’ve heard he was a wise man full of stories and culture. They met in Kilgore during the Oil Boom.

She was the salutatorian of her high school class and graduated from one of the first classes at Chenier Business School. Pappy and she met, she started working at the bank and he went to fight in WWII. He came back and started travelling for the oil industry. They had their son, my Dad, at age forty. They were not the average family for that day and age. My grandmother refused to stay at home. She worked her life at the bank but also made it very apparent to spent time with my dad and Pappy. The house that was located across from the ‘little league’ baseball park, Amelia Elementary and the big field that was bound on both sides by the train tracks. Across that field was Forest Park Methodist Church. Just down Major Drive and Dowlen Road you would take the drive to Trinity United Methodist. Where weekly my grandmother would print labels and fold the bulletin.

Tuesday, was Meals on Wheels at Forest Park and that meant making sure the houses counted and the meals were prepared.  Thursday, was Thrift store and Market Basket days. She loved people. Every morning at four am the coffee (her yellow cup, black) was brewed and the news was on about five-thirty am as the paper boy came by the garage rolled up and the paper was taken inside to read, everyday. Depending on the day of the week, different parts of the paper were clipped and sent to different individuals. After the paper was read and breakfast was eaten, she began her day and it usually started off calling my dad and I on our way to school, then came Kent, Sue and other nieces and nephews, friends all over the country. Mimi loved her nieces and nephews as her own. She knew they only had each other from time to time.  At some point she had a can of Dr. Pepper with a straw and jello she stored in the butter carton. Without fail she made sure she had all her ducks in her row. She had her routine and it had to be solid. As the years went on and she got older and things slowly changed, she kept living passed everyone.

You see my grandmother wasn’t the one who came to all of my events or was ‘lovey dovey’ but she had her own special way of doing things, it was a way that I can’t explain. It was the the old fashioned way that met the twenty-first century. 

Growing up, I had the privilege of spending weekends and summers with my grandmother. Mimi was like a mother to me, we did everything together, we baked rolls using glass cups and sang hymns together as we typed on the typewriter.

Mimi, was my grandmother, my first best friend and my hero. People say, I am a spinning image of her but only time will tell. She loved Jesus more than you did anything else. She showed what love was, maybe not through words but through actions. Every action showed love, and when she said the words of love she meant them. She wasn't perfect but she loved well.

My grandmother and my mom didn’t always get a long but as time went on and my grandmother moved to Houston, they began spending so much time together. For the past three Christmases no mater what they made something together. What a beautiful precious gift that awas. For years I yearned for that. It happened, only by Jesus.

That women lived to be 100 years old (I may have said it differently from time to time as I had been wrong all along)and went home to Jesus yesterday, days away from her 101st birthday. But, this is a celebration of life of glory. Mimi, is baking rolls and cutting her asailias while playing the organ with Jesus

Friends, these moments are sweet and precious, savour them oh so tightly, even the little things that puzzle you because they bring smiles later. Friends, I beg you no matter what go call your family member, your grandmother, grandfather, even if they are down the street. These moments are the best moments.

Thank you for teaching me to love Jesus, who Jesus was and who He is. The power in the precious blood of the lamb. For the hymns and what love really looked like.

Love,

Your lil Chickadee

100 years.

Celebration. Invention. WWII. Internet.

You are my sunshine, my only sunshine, you make me happy when skies are gray, you only know dear how much I love you, so please don’t take my sunshine away.