When I think back to six years ago, I remember the tethers.
I remember mom as a bridge, suspended by her direct connection to the Joy of Christ. She connected to and through and between so many. If you were there at her Homegoing celebration, it was so evident that friends and friends of friends and friends of friends of…, you get the picture, were impacted by her infectious joy. Even when she was enduring some of the most immense sufferings, she managed to love and to serve and to connect with people around her. At times when I would have wanted to shrivel up and isolate, she wanted to be hospitable. She taught me to love those on the sidelines of life, bridging the gap between the known and the uncomfortable.
I remember the wires of this modern era, giving her new ways to enjoy life and bring joy to those around her. Boy, did she like to have fun? Her perpetually uplifting spirit was reminiscent of those balloons, the balloons she popped above my DK’s head in Mario Kart or the one she passed out in high in the sky above Oshtemo.
I remember the sturdy chain, holding my loft bed to the ceiling when my grandmother came into the room six years ago. “You should come say goodbye,” she said. Mom was drifting away through the shimmering Gates of Heaven from us into her new, eternal life with Christ.
She was tethered to a physical body, plagued with disease.
She was tethered to family, who loved her deeply.
She was tethered to friends, whom she cared for more than herself.
She was tethered to Christ, to whom she credited with her hope and salvation.
Though all but one of these cables snapped six years ago, that echoing sound still resonates in my ears. After all, six years to her is only… six times twelve… times thirty-ish… divided by infinity… carry the two… …Her reward for tethering herself to Christ has only just begun. So it is up to those who remain here, in the words of my wife this morning, to “go into some really challenging and unexpected places… [in order to] …make our faith credible.”
I write these thoughts mostly so I can remember. As the thread of time passes, so the memories begin to fade. I hope and pray that her legacy of hope in Christ and joy with His Church lives on through me.