Grateful, Indeed

Twice Blessed!

The countdown to Thanksgiving begins…In three days, there will be 15 gathered around our table, a smaller crowd than usual, but many of our nearest and dearest will join in. As I contemplate the tasks to be completed, I am reminded of the reason we rejoice…the many things we have to be grateful for. So, indulge me, if you will as I recount some of my greatest blessings…

I'm thankful for all the gatherings around our great, big, white dining table. It's not fancy, but it's massive! We love each one who has surrounded it and are grateful for those who will be with us this holiday and for those who will not... for those who will return and those who have gone on to an eternal feast of Thanksgiving... for every friend, family member and visitor. You are the reason we built this room and purchased this table. You make our home a gathering place enabling us to practice hospitality. We love you for that! #fullhearts

Venice

This is the husband and I, on a trip of a lifetime. It's one we saved,  planned and hoped for over a period of many years. This year it finally happened, at a time when we were able to enjoy it in a way we wouldn't have any earlier.  We experienced Italy, the home of his ancestors, with our favorite travel partners, Dan & Nan, and made memories that are forever embedded in our hearts.  Sigh….. #beyond beautiful




Someone recently said to me, that had he realized how wonderful grandchildren were, he'd have wanted to grow older, sooner.  I concur!  Our Ruby has been a joy since day one, and this year we were blessed with her baby sister, Minnie Eloise.  I could go on indefinitely, but, a picture is worth a thousand words, right?  #therearen't enoughwords

In late summer, we were blessed to be able to share in a family reunion with the Herndon clan, my mother's family, in Montana, AKA, Big Sky Country.  Ruby was able to accompany us and it was pure delight to see her interact with the many loved ones who have so impacted my life.  Spending time there, where I formed such sweet memories with ones I love so much and who have been such a source of joy and encouragement was so big, so rich and so treasured. #homesweethome

She walks the line...

Ru with her new friend at The Thunderball Ranch

Now in my mind, it goes without saying, but I would be remiss if I didn't say it. So here it is, friends:  I owe everything to the saving power of the blood of Jesus.  I am eternally thankful  for His Word, which  fills me up  daily, preparing me for whatever lies ahead.  Also, for His Holy Spirit who comforts, guides and sustains me;  for His church who surrounds, encourages and supports me,  and for His presence which is constant.  This is the foundation of everything that I am or ever hope to be.  My Rock.  With Him, I have everything I need. #well,ALMOST… ;-)

 

I'm exceedingly grateful for His mercy and grace.  This year He has sustained cherished loved ones who have battled illness, grief and loss.  I am thankful for those who remain and for those who have left this world. Full circle. #thisworldisnotmyhome

Thank you Lord, for every gift…

The beauty of creation….

for great art...

for travel and travel partners...

For family  (circa 1965)…
AND...
friends, work, a place to call home, a bed to lie down in, a life that is rich.

Francis Chan said it best….

We're FILTHY rich!

Mother's Day 2012-She took her last breath on earth and her first in heaven.   And for a moment, it took our breath away. We did not expect this loss so soon.

Marjorie Ann Herndon Matthis

She was not June Cleaver.  But, I've come to realize that none of us are.  June Cleaver is a myth.  Only the Beaver and Wally had a mother like that. And that, after all, was  on television.  Marjorie Ann Herndon Matthis was, well--a handful. And she was my mother. And she loved her children very much.

She did some goofy things.  She said some goofy things.  She struggled to believe she had enough, that she was enough. She was largely unfiltered. We, who loved her  often uttered  the words, "I can't believe she said that."  Yes, she was a handful. But she was our handful.  She was not a perfect mother, nor was I a perfect daughter. Not even close.

                                                                Even so,

She loved us the best she could. And it was enough.
She made us laugh with her stories of her youth.
She drove us all over creation when we were kids.
She defended us when we were in trouble.
She was president of the PTA.
She taught us to love and care for babies and
how to clean a house.
She welcomed friends and family to our home.
She shopped like there was no tomorrow.
She loved children and they her.
She loved drop in dinner guests.
She was a rabid Lakers fan.
She found countless people jobs.
She was the original neighborhood networker.
She was far better informed on world news than I will ever be.
She sang silly songs and came bearing quirky  gifts.
She had a gift for staying in touch and spent hours on the phone with those she cared for.
She knew all her neighbors and all their kids.

She was, in retrospect, a bit of a neighborhood legend.

Marge was my mom.

A year later, her first great grandchild still mourns her...still has moments where she tears up because she misses her Nanny.  There are moments when I think to call her and then I realize she is no longer a phone call away.  And, I miss that. I miss her.  She was a handful.  No denying that.  But now that she's gone, it is sweet comfort to remember all the good, all the laughter, all the love and all the joy.


 It is now so easy to let go of all the things that seemed to loom so big back then.  It is now so easy for me to let go of the sorrow and so sweet to hold to the good.  So, today, I honor my Mom. I thank God for her because she gave me the opportunity to live this beautiful life.  I am thankful for every gift she gave and  every challenge she presented me with.  But, most of all,  I am thankful that she is finally at home and in perfect peace, celebrating this Mother's Day with the Mother she so loved, as well as with my Dad and with her sisters and friends who went before her.  It is a grand celebration in Heaven today and that brings nothing but joy to my heart.

Mom and I

I am not sad today.  I am not grieving.  There has been a long year of doing that.  Truthfully, there is a kind of peace knowing she is finally home, with my Dad, in the presence of the One who gave His life so that we could have this life eternal.  And there is a certain symmetry in losing her to Heaven on Mother's Day, when just hours earlier all four of her children had gathered around her bed.  I am eternally grateful for our final moments together on earth...for the chance to say "I love you" one more time on earth, and to whisper in her ear,  " I know you loved us the best you could. It was enough."

  

Grateful
and 
Blessed. 

There's A New Girl in Town!

5:55 AM
My girl was out of bed before me...in the bathroom...not normal operating procedure.
The door to my room opens and she's standing there, a look of distress on her morning face.
"I don't feel good. I think it might be today.  I wish Danny were here." Again, labor arrives early in the morning.

I spring out of bed. "What can I do?"

Again, "I wish Danny was here."

She decides to take a shower. She just wants to shower, put a little make-up on, feel human, be ready for the photo opp' that is surely ahead.  But then, she's overcome by pain and collapses to the bathroom floor in a fetal heap.  The wave passes and she's up, into the shower. But there will be no shampoo. There's no time. And all the while, our little Ru sleeps, blissfully unaware of what is happening outside her bedroom door.  I text Ommie Sandy:

 "CAN YOU COME NOW?"

I gather  clothes,  load the car.  Did yesterday have to be the day the city dug up the driveway to replace it with smooth new concrete? Drat. I back the car into the next door neighbor's  driveway.
I gingerly help my girl get dressed.  She winces, "Where is Sandy?"

"'On her way" And knowing that's true, but hoping she's going to drive up any second.

She stands by Ru's door.  "I have to tell her we're going." She opens it quietly and walks to her bed and little eyes flutter open.   She crawls into the bed and little girl reaches to her Momma's belly-"oh! don't touch baby, momma's tummy is sore." She pulls back her hand and  they lie face to face. Amanda says that baby sister is probably coming today and Momma has to go to the hospital...and Ruby bursts into a flood of tears.

"But Daddy isn't home. We prayed for Daddy to be here."

And Momma soothes her little chick..."I know...I wanted him to be here, too, but it will be okay."

Ommie Sandy arrives and takes charge of our little Ru as  we make our exit.  The 6 mile drive begins and time is of the essence.  We traverse the streets of Long Beach and I am grateful it is still  early and there is little traffic. It is just after 7 am. I am urged to drive faster and I respond accordingly- we are nearly there. Flashback- the urgency of her pleas remind me of another drive to the hospital, 33 years earlier, when I implored her father to drive faster, and to avoid any bumps in the road.  Deja-vu.

She repeatedly voices, "I wish Danny were here."  And I know he wishes the same. He has been in Texas for over a week, getting crucial training to fly a new plane so that he can provide for his growing family. We had prayed that he would return in time to share in the birth of their new girl, but clearly this was not to be.  This is hard for all of them, I know, but I pause to be  thankful for this man who loves this little family so much and who is a faithful husband, father and provider to his precious girls. At this point all he knows is that we are en route to the hospital. I have been entrusted with this sacred responsibility and  am honored to take it on.

I pull into the hospital drive and up to the curb and she is suddenly frantic-she cannot wait.  I jump out, run in and tell the guard I need a wheel chair "right now!"-that my daughter is ready to give birth.  He looks for a chair and there is none. I go back to the car and the urgency has intensified. I return to the guard..."I need help, NOW!"

I return to the car and assure my girl that help is on the way. And within seconds, two beautiful nurses were there with a chair-and summoning a doctor. A birth is imminent.  A cursory exam is done curbside and the decision is made to transport her immediately upstairs. There is time.

Sweet nurses assist her out of the car and I jump back in to park the car.   I turn into an ER-ONLY lot, I ask for permission-"this is a bit of an emergency" and permission is granted. It is 7:15 AM.   Within 5 minutes I have parked,  gathered a mountain of belongings and arrive on the second floor where I am instantly  directed to a room where my only child is about to deliver her second baby girl.

An IV is being inserted and the words "10 centimeters" are voiced.  There is no time for an epidural. It is time.  An unknown doctor enters the room, young and fresh out of med school no doubt. But, she is up for the task and the work begins. Precious nurses encourage Amanda to breathe through the pain. Cameras are in hand  and the hard work begins.

At one point, Amanda prays aloud, through the pain, and one of the nurses does something so remarkable and so brave and so good. She asks Amanda, "Are we praying to Jesus?"

"oh, yes, we are."

And she proceeds with, "then, let's pray.  All activity ceased and  everyone in the room closed eyes and dropped their heads while this precious and courageous young woman petitioned heaven for the safe arrival of,  and blessing on our sweet baby girl.  It was a moment of awe that I will never forget.

And moments later, and I do mean moments, our little Minnie Eloise, was born at 7:34 AM-nineteen minutes from the time we pulled up to the curb at the hospital! And she is perfect!  They immediately placed her on Amanda's chest and left them to bond together.  I cut the cord!
                                         And then I held her as her
Momma slept briefly.  What a privilege and what bliss!

I think she's pretty spectacular. And I'm not the only one.  I'm thinkin' we're gonna  keep her.

Ru meets Minnie for the first time!

Grateful and blessed.

My Girl

It was the spring of 1979 and I was on board Amtrak’s train, The Capital Limited, en route from Washington, DC to Chicago. I had just endured a long week of training at the Xerox Training Center, in Leesburg, Virginia. It had been a challenging week with new co-workers from all over the country. We’d worked long hours and I was pretty overwhelmed with all the new knowledge I’d taken in, but excited to be on my way home to begin my new job as an Amtrak Sales Representative.

My co-worker and I had boarded the overnight train to Chicago, where we’d change trains to the Southwest Limited, continuing on to Los Angeles the next day. We’d been on the train a few hours and decided to meet in the dining room for dinner. The diner was full, so we were standing in a hallway, waiting for a table to open up, when the aroma of food cooking invaded my senses and an overwhelming wave of nausea engulfed me.

I made an immediate u-turn and bolted back to the sleeper car and my Roomette, as they were called in those days. I flung open the door, opened the toilet and immediately vomited into a stainless steel receptacle.

I knew, in that instant , that I was pregnant. I who hadn’t thrown up in over a decade, knew with certainty that this was not some 24 hour bug. I returned to the dining room with this amazing piece of knowledge in my head, ate a light dinner and returned to my room where I pulled down my bed and settled in for a night of dreams of the life to come.

We arrived in Chicago the next day and with a layover ahead, I headed to the Sears Tower, where I found a book store and purchased a book of names, which provided hours of reading between Chicago and Los Angeles. My mind was spinning in a million directions. I was excited. I was surprised. I was nervous. I anticipated telling Mike he was going to be a Daddy. There were no cell phones, and no way to share this life changing information with anyone that mattered. So, as Mary did, I treasured it in my heart, contemplating the knowledge that I was going to be a mother. Bliss.

My whole life, to that point, I dreamed of and planned on becoming a mother, ideally to five little ones. It was not negotiable. It was who I was. When I married a man who had two half-grown children, I thought for a while that they would fill that place in my heart. But the moment I knew that I had a baby growing in me, it was as if my most fervent dream had finally come true. I was going to have a baby to love and care for. My own. Flesh of my flesh.

That was a long time ago. And, 32 years ago, today, after nine months of relentless nausea, vomiting and anticipation, I gave birth to a 9 lb. 2 ½ oz. baby girl. My girl. Amanda Ann. She, with her transluscent skin and reddish hair, round face and rolls of flesh--could she be mine? I expected a sickly little thing, the result of my incessant throwing up. But, this was a specimen of health, a beautiful, “fluffy” baby girl, sucking her thumb contentedly in the delivery room.

The first night at home, her Dad was down with the flu. My mom had offered to come over to help, but, I declined, feeling confident that I could handle it. By 9 that evening I was on the phone in tears, unable to comfort her or stop her crying. My mom, the original baby whisperer, came to the rescue and helped us through that first night.

Within a week, our girl was sleeping through the night. But, that first week, I remember getting up alone in the wee hours one night, holding her in my arms. I was in our kitchen, leaning against the back door and holding her in my arms, overwhelmed with emotion and in awe of the love I felt for this little one who had done absolutely nothing to earn it. I realized in that moment what “Mother Love” was. And, in that moment, I also realized how much my own mother loved me.

Fast forward 32 years. Today, Amanda Ann Mandish is Amanda Ann Green, wife to Daniel, Mother to Ruby and a daughter loved beyond description. To say those 32 years flew by isn’t too far off base. To say that every year has been a blessing is dead on.

She has grown into a woman of excellence- a Proverbs 31 woman, in progress. She is a young woman who loves Jesus and works to serve Him in her daily life. She is a wife who honors her husband- he who knows she can be trusted and supports his dreams and plans for their family. She has a heart full of compassion and opens her hand to those in need…a friend who is concerned and also propelled to action. She is a loving and firm mother to the most beautiful child I know. She works hard and has created a beautiful home for her family. She exercises hospitality and looks for ways to stretch her resources. She is even learning to cook! She exudes a beauty that comes from not just a lovely appearance but an attitude that smiles at the future and works through the challenges of life.

She has been a blessing so great. As a young girl, I hoped to have five children, but, Amanda is my only child. I have often kiddingly remarked that, “when the first one is perfect, you can stop.” Reality is, that although I would have welcomed the blessing of more children, it just didn’t work out that way. Even so, there are no regrets. My girl--she erased all the possible regrets. I could not have asked for a better daughter, a sweeter spirit, a kinder, more loving girl to call my one and only.

Today she is my daughter and my friend. She is beautiful, inside and out. Today I celebrate her existence. Her kindness. Her generosity. Her heart. This grateful heart is full to the brim when I view you and the woman you have become. There are not enough words to express how blessed I am to be your mom. Happy Birthday to My Girl. I could not love you more.

“Charm is deceitful and beauty is vain, but a woman who fears the Lord is to be praised. “ Proverbs 31:30

Big Sky

There's a reason they call it Big Sky Country

They say you can't go home again. I hadn't been back to Montana in several years. So, when the occasion of my Aunt Wilma and Uncle Ray's 65th Anniversary celebration came up, I decided it was time. Time to return to my birthplace,to the place where my first memories were formed, to the house my mother was born and to the family still there. My first home. MONTANA.

I convinced both my mom and my sister, Debi, to join me and we set off on our summer adventure. What an adventure it was. There were so many wonderful moments contained in a few short days, too many to recount them all here, but, so worth the remembering and giving thanks for...

Time with my mom and my sister in the place where our first memories as a family were formed...here we are on the steps of the Sacajawea Hotel in Three Forks, the first town we lived in as a family. We stopped to visit with Cotton and Madeline Todd. I remember sleeping over at their house with their daughter Donna when I was a very small girl. For most of my life, I thought I had imagined that they'd had a horse sleeping behind the sofa. Turns out it was for reals. Gotta love 'em. Good people, life friends.

Staying in the warm and beautiful home of my cousin Linda and her husband Mike. They were so gracious and hospitable! Reconnecting with her was such a blessing and such fun!

Visiting with many cousins, aunts, uncles and life long friends we seldom get to see.

Hanging out at the Garden Cafe in Manhattan, and visiting my favorite little vintage shop on Main Street.

Sitting on Wilma and Ray's porch, eating steak from the Oasis and laughing with loved ones who came from near and far.

Hearing the distant train whistle blow and running across the road with my sister to feel the whoosh of the train passing by as we stood along the tracks.

Attending the anniversary celebration in the basement of their church and realizing the minute I got there, that this was the place where I had attended Vacation Bible School as a child. Vivid memories of this room washed all over me!

Sitting up late with my cousin, sister and mom, having a glass of wine, (okay, maybe two) and hearing stories out of my mother's mouth that left me laughing so hard I was gasping for breath!

The sky. Oh, the sky. It's hard to explain, but, it's really different there. Expansive. Vast. Majestic. Expressive. Enormous. Unobstructed. God's creation shouting!

It was only five days, but, it was a little slice of heaven, and--you know what's next--I'm grateful.

Poppa, I miss you more than anyone knows.

Two years ago today, my sweet Dad passed over from this life to his heavenly home. Today, I drove by our childhood home and saw the house we lived in, the flower beds he so lovingly tended and the sawed off pole from which an American flag once flew daily. When I came home, my eyes filled with tears, seeing that my husband had our flag flying in Dad's memory outside our home.

When he died, I, along with my siblings, spoke at the celebration of his life. I wrote the obituary and then the handout for the services. Since then, I've not been able to write anything further about him. When I try, I am overcome with emotion and sorrow, but not regret. He knew how much I loved him. I told him often. And so, today, I share what I wrote then. Someday I will be strong enough to share more about who he was and the reasons he means so much to me. But for now, this will have to suffice.

Raymond William Matthis

December 6, 1925-June 20, 2008

Precious in the sight of the Lord is the death of His saints. Psalm 116:15

A Tribute to My Hero

We gather today to honor Ray, a man who need not be esteemed in death more highly than he was in life. His life was an example to all who knew him. Galatians 5:22 says, "The fruit of the spirit is love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness and self-control." These traits, or as the bible calls them, "fruit of the spirit" could easily be used to describe the man we honor here today; beloved husband, father, "Poppa", brother, uncle, neighbor and friend. His unconditional love for those of us who were fortunate enough to know and love him, and know with certainty how much he loved us, was unwavering. His generosity was unparalleled. We are quite certain that we will never know all the good deeds he did, all the checks he wrote for someone less fortunate, the pies he baked, the errands he ran, the help he offered, the quiet acts of service, the many kindnesses he extended. He was not perfect. On rare occasions he was grumpy and short tempered, but, his character was steadfast. He was quick to say "I love you" and just as quick to say, "I'm sorry" when he was wrong. His heart was soft as butter...tears sprang to his eyes easily and pride in those he loved was enormous. He was easily touched by simple acts of kindness and his wobbly chin was well known to his family and those closest to him. He was a strong, manly man with a work ethic rarely seen in our world today, but, he was also gentle and not afraid to be silly and to laugh with glee. He loved babies and roses and wood working and his tomatoes. But--most of all, he loved his family and all of us who are gathered here today to love him right back. He was faithful to his commitments, to his family, his church and his friends. If he made a promise, he kept it. He touched others deeply, whether the people he sat with at church or his favorite waitress, Angela, at the Early Bird Cafe. He had faith and he knew where his next stop would be. If he could speak to us today, he'd tell you "it's all true!" and he'd tell us to meet him on the other side. Because, just as you loved him, he loved you, too. "The gift of God is eternal life." Say yes to the gift. Be there. He'll be there to welcome you just inside the gate.

Bittersweet

You have to take the bitter with the sweet. I get that. But sometimes, the bitter IS the sweet. A loss so great that results in a reunion so sweet...this is the story of Edith Marta Donatelli Mandish, and her passing from this life into the next.

I married into a family so vibrant, so intense and so LOUD. The Mandish clan was, from the beginning, part of the attraction. My Slav Father-in-law, Mike...a twinkle in his eye and a penchant for saying things so bluntly that it sometimes took my breath away and othertimes so funny that he made me laugh for days. My Italian Mother-in-law, Edith, whose existence was centered around her family, and who in later years, referred to me as her "Angel" (My husband doesn't always concur) was my biggest supporter. Their family included my husband Mike, his brothers Dan and Gene and their sister Christine.

Family gatherings were always intense...conversation was fast and furious, people talking over each other about politics, religion, news, books and our varied lives. Laughter abounded and voices escalated. One time when our daughter was about 12, she invited her friend Heather to come along for a gathering. We had our traditional dinner with everyone gathered around the table, talking long after the meal was over. When we went home, her friend asked, "Are they always mad at each other?" To which Amanda replied, "They weren't mad, they always talk at the same time in loud voices!"

Through the years, Edith was always an encourager. She often told me that she prayed for us...for Mike and I to be reconciled (we did), for Mike to quit smoking after decades, (he did) for our girls to get good educations (check) and for them all to find good husbands. (two down, one still pending, but we believe!) She had a rich and faithful prayer life. She never gave up. She spend many hours praying for anyone who needed prayer and many of us were the recipients of her faithful endurance on our behalf.

She grew up without a mother, due to the untimely death of her own when she was very young. As a result, she never knew the tender warmth of a mother's embrace, the encouraging words a mother can speak and she faced unusual harshness as a young child. Her father was a good man, but gruff and unsentimental toward his young children. His expectations were high and there was no time for foolishness. Her days were long and hard. She and her sister Norma were expected to cook and clean and iron from a very young age while also going to school. Before she was ten, she had to prepare her grandmother's body for viewing following her death. This was not a fairy tale childhood.

Even so, she raised four children, was the loyal wife of one man and lived a life of extraordinary faith in Jesus Christ. She attended a Baptist church when she was small, but, ultimately was baptised a Catholic and raised her children in that faith.

In her later years, she experienced a healing, which she kept secret for years, uncertain that anyone would believe her. She had cancer and the physicians she saw didn't hold out great hope for her recovery. But, they didn' t know about her prayer life. They also apparently weren't familiar with the Great Physician she had entrusted herself to. Years later she told me that she was up one night praying ...all night she prayed and suddenly she felt a heat come into her body from the top of her head down through her toes. At the same time, she heard the words, "Your body is healed", a healing that was confirmed when she returned to her earthly doctors. That was decades ago. She was given "bonus time".

In June 2007, her beloved Mike died. She missed him terribly. At one point she considered stopping her medications so that she could be with him again. Thankfully, a friend talked her out of that. Her last couple of years, though, every future event was couched with, "If I'm still here." When her most recent great grand-child, Ruby was on the way, she said she hoped to live to see her. She did and in fact enjoyed many visits with the blue eyed beauty she loved so much.
In January of last year, nearly all of her children, grandchildren and great grandchildren gathered for a surprise 90th birthday party at our home. Letters and cards came from loved ones near and far, and she reveled in the love that we poured out on her.

January this year, the party was smaller...the local family members gathered again around her table and she blew out candles on the cake I had made her. She was a blessed woman and contentment was hers. She appreciated every opportunity to be with us...to see the fruit of a life well lived and the results of the prayers she had long prayed.

Ironically, she died much the same as her beloved Mike did. A hip fracture, followed by a surgery and then a recovery that didn't come to fruition. But, the difference, the very sweet difference, was that we were given the precious gift of time. To the end, she was cognizant of what was happening...fully aware of those around her bedside and ultimately ready to let go and meet her Maker.

Blessed time. Time to read to her from the Word of God. Time to sing songs around her bedside. Time to talk about her wishes. She spoke to each one gathered around her bed, expressing her thoughts. Time to say good bye...time to talk about the reunion ahead of her, with her Mike, with her own Mother, with her brothers and sisters and with my own dear Dad. The day before she passed, all four of her children were with her all day...five of her grandchildren and one great grandchild was there. She told us she wanted "Wind Beneath My Wings" and "Amazing Grace" sung at her service by her granddaughter Lynne, and she was able to hear Lynne rehearse them for her at her bedside. She was ready and it was on her terms. It was the hardest and sweetest of times.

That night, her youngest son, Gene, chose to stay the night in her room. We all went home and slept, only to awaken to the news that she had crossed over from this life to the gates of Heaven, early that morning. The journey through the valley of the shadow of death, had come to a conclusion. Destination reached.

We planned services. We walked through them. We carried out her wishes. We sang songs, prayed prayers and spoke of what she meant to each of us. We spent countless hours as a family, recounting the gifts she had given us. Gifts of faith and love and acceptance and selflessness. In her apartment we found boxes of cards and letters she'd saved for more than half a century, from all of us. She had no jewels...no possessions of great worldly value. She often said that her children were her diamonds. In the end, it was imminently clear that her family was her treasure. That's where her heart was.

And so, her legacy is a life well lived. A life of faith. A life of endurance. A life of service. We have much to live up to, but, a deep well of example to draw from. It is very hard to imagine that she is no longer with us...that we can no longer enjoy her stories and her company. It is hard to say good-bye. But, she lived for the reward that now is hers and her reward is great. How could we begrudge her that? Still...

Bittersweet.