Well friends, the past two weeks have been a blur. Collin and I were in St. Louis visiting some amazing friends when we started getting phone calls from my family. My grandmother (MeMe) was in the hospital. We drove home, in a bit of a panic, to be with my family. We soon learned that MeMe had a ruptured valve in her heart... she had several tough weeks in the hospital and then passed away late Thursday night. We had the memorial service this morning, and whew, we are all emotionally and physically worn out. As you say here in Oklahoma, I am 'gall-durn' mad. Mad that my MeMe is gone. Mad that my PaPa will have to re-learn how to live life without this woman he called 'Honey' for 55 years. Mad that my kids won't have MeMe around to take up for them when PaPa and my uncles pick on them. Mad, yes, and mostly just sad. Sad for my mama. Sad for all of us.

In the last week, we had some sweet times together as a family to tell stories and remember MeMe. And, even though I wouldn't have guessed it would have been under these circumstances, these days gave me a chance to spend a lot of time with my family before we move (which is supposedly happening in two weeks---ahhh! But that's for another post). I am thankful for time to connect and be together.


"Wholeness does not mean perfection: it means embracing brokenness as an integral part of life." Parker Palmer

"...every time there are losses there are choices to be made. You choose to live your losses as passages to anger, blame, hatred, depression and resentment, or you choose to let these losses be passages to something new, something wider, and deeper." Henri Nouwen

S.G. has a song I really like... here are the last few lines:

Death can be so inconvenient.

You try to live and love. It comes and interrupts.
And what do I know? What do I know?
I don't know that there are harps in heaven,
Or the process for earning your wings.
I don't know of bright lights at the ends of tunnels,
Or any of those things.
But I know to be absent from this body is to be present with the Lord,
and from what I know of him, that must be pretty good.
Oh, I know to be absent from this body is to be present with the Lord,
and from what I know of him, that must be very good.


  1. Dear friends,

    Oh, how my heart is broken for you.

    I am so with you in the emotions that you share. I remember driving my grama home a year ago, having lost my grampa two days before, and us talking about how hard it would be to get used to him being gone after 60 years together. We talked about adapting to the new reality. And later that night (and for days, weeks, and really, months afterward) I was so angry and just railed against God. And when the anger dissipated it was just sadness left behind, deep and dark.

    Reading your note, I'm praying that the Lord would be present with you in your anger. That you would let Him in. I'm praying that he would comfort you and you family in your sadness, and mostly for your PaPa, that he would be comforted.

    I'm so glad you were in the States right now, and able to be with your family.

    And I'm glad to think that your MeMe and my grampa, and the loved ones of our friends who have passed away this year are rejoicing in the sight of Jesus, together.

    Love you.

  2. Candice and Collin,
    I am so sorry for your loss. I loved the way you described being angry, because that is what you feel when you lose someone close. When grandma died last December I tried to remember that the anger I felt, although it didn't feel sweet, was a sweet reminder of the strength of my connection to my grandmother. Her life made a difference, and her absence is keenly felt. The same is true of your MeMe.

    I agree wholeheartedly with Tiffani - I take comfort in the fact that our grandparents are basking in the presence of our Father. I can't help but smile when I think of them meeting one another.

    Know that you are in our prayers now as always. Thank you for being such a precious friend.



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