still with Thee.

"Still, still with Thee, when purple morning breaketh,

When the bird waketh and the shadows flee;

Fairer than the morning, lovelier than daylight,

Dawns the sweet consciousness, I am with Thee."

(Harriet Beecher Stowe)

The house is quiet this morning - silent in fact. And I'm sitting thinking of what my grandmother would be doing at this hour. It's 7:30; she might be out the door on her way to the office. Or, on a "hard" day, she would be in her chair, reading from her Kindle and enjoying some tea, taking the day a little more slowly before she jetted out the door. But, this morning, I can't even begin to imagine what she is doing. Singing, I'm sure. She loved to sing. And she was quite good at it until difficulty with her hearing seized that ability (it became a "joyful noise" soon after that).

Last Wednesday was such a long day for her. She was unable to do anything except breathe, and that with more effort than you or I would make after running a marathon. The day was 18 full hours of "fight". (Don't you know that someone who has never quit anything, never given up on anyone, in her life would have a hard time letting go?) As Wednesday gave way to Thursday, my heart hurt for her. How long would she be fighting this way? In the early hours of the morning, I sang to her every hymn I could think of, in my limited repertoire, as she struggled more and more. The house was quiet, except for her and I. Everyone had gone to sleep. She breathed - I sang.

And, a few moments later, I made my way through the house, gently waking up family. First Mom, then Dad and then, my big brother. And, as the sun rose, our reality was very different than it had been on Wednesday. This day was very different from every other day in all of our lives. For she had always been here. Always. To listen to stories. To say, "Let's pray". To provide comfort meals. To give great advice. Most of us had never known a day without her. This day was the first that the sun would rise to a day of missing her.

But our house was also filled with something else. Great relief fell upon each of our hearts, though accompanied by sorrow. She had fought so hard. And she was so very tired. We do not grieve without hope - though we still must grieve.

I was reminded a few days ago about something I wanted to share with you. Growing up, Gramma was here changing the world in Marana and our family lived in West Virginia. But, even in those days, she was such a presence in our house. She never missed a card - birthdays, Easter, Valentine's Day - ever. And she and Mom were constantly on the phone (for hours at a time). If I ever called out, "Hey, Mom!" And Dad said, "She's talking to your grandmother." I knew: just forget about it! She's gonna be on the phone f-o-r-e-v-e-r! But, a handful of times each year, Gramma made sure that somehow, we got to see each other. And those times, those were the best.

I have such great memories of waiting at the gate in the airport for her flight to arrive. Such anticipation! I would be pacing in circles, sometimes spinning in circles, "Mom, how long now?...Now?....Has it landed now???" And then...that unmistakable smile would emerge from the tunnel. "SHE'S HERE!!!" This scenario repeated itself as I sat peeking through the blinds of our house, waiting for her car to come up the driveway. Or, in more recent times, as I sat at my own gate in the airport waiting for my own flight to carry me to her.

I've been pondering how separation always sweetened our times together. And, the same is true now...

The poem at the beginning of this post has been tucked in my heart for the last few months. Those lines have brought me comfort, especially these more recent mornings. But, this morning, as I read the end of the poem, I smiled. God showed me the beginning but, it wasn't until now that I knew how it ended.

"So shall it be at last in that bright morning,

When the soul waketh and life's shadows flee;

O, in that hour, fairer than the daylight dawning,

Shall rise the glorious thought, I am with Thee."

We may be separated for a while - but we share space with the same God. He is with me. She is with Him...