A few weeks ago my mother gave me a photocopied journal that belonged to my grandmother. I’d read a few entries, but didn’t get around to reading the whole thing until now. It wasn’t long, not quite two months worth, but it gave insight into a woman I knew to be kind and loving. I knew she loved the Lord, but hearing her say, “I love you Lord on every page showed me how deep that love went. When was the last time I told the Lord I loved him? The journal was full of prayers, struggles and praises. She never went in to detail; she didn’t need to. The Lord knew her heart.
When I read her words, words like, “Lord, Might I never be so busy that I can’t help someone,” “You are my strength,” “Lead me today to someone whom I can make a difference in their lives,” and “May I never retire from your word, your love, your peace,” I saw a woman who cared more about what her God thought of her than what man thought of her. She didn’t have much, but the little she had she gave away.
I say all this to give thanks for a grandmother who prayed for me by name every day of my life. Who, more than anything loved the Lord and wanted her children and grandchildren to know him personally. I pray that I can be the kind of woman she was, one who loved God more than things of this earth, who gave when it was difficult to give, who prayed for those around her and sought to be a blessing to others.
Thanks, Gram. Love you and miss you lots.