Nearly a week ago now, we attended my grandmother's funeral.  It was a cold day with snow flying at the cemetery.  Grandma was ready to go home.  She was ready to be done with her fight.  She had finished her course.  That isn't to say that there weren't tears.  There were many.  We will miss her.  I will miss her every time that I mix a batch of her sweet cream biscuits, watch someone play the piano in church, or smell lilacs.  But this year, when we raised the final cup in our Sedar meal and proclaimed, "Come, Lord Jesus!"  We smiled, because Grandma spent this Easter in the New Jerusalem.  

Last year, when Grandpa died, most of my immediate family was unable to attend the funeral.  That was a blow, and I was discouraged.  My musings on the subject directed me to Romans 8 and the comfort of God's Word.  Being able to be at Grandma's funeral was a blessing, but it also meant that I was asked to participate by giving a tribute to her.  It was probably one of the most difficult speeches that I've ever written.  How do you sum up a life in moments?  With mere words?  I attempted to picture her through my lens as that is the one that I see through most clearly.  Here is what I shared:  

Most of you don't need me to tell you how wonderful my Grandma Claire was.  You each have your own reasons for loving her and that is why you are here today.  But let's take a few moments and remember some of those reasons together.  

Grandma loved to play the piano.  I remember as a little girl, sitting at the piano and running my fingers over the keys hoping to make music come from it as she did.  Her playing was never about drawing attention to herself but about highlighting the abilities of those that she accompanied.  

If Grandpa was the dynamite, Grandma was the glue.  She held our family together with her wit, her humor, her kindness, her love for beauty, her work ethic, her faithfulness, her quiet strength, her neat, tidy house, and her yummy pies.  

Grandma was present.  In Mexico, in Alaska, in Bolivia, in Florida, in Arizona, in Colorado, at track meets, at soccer matches, at wrestling tournaments, in the hay field, in the sheep barn, at the branding corral, at the dinner table.  She was goofy; she was smart; she was wise.  She was a good listener; people felt like they could talk to her.  She smiled; she laughed; she rarely got angry, but when she did it was often about Grandpa's "selective hearing."  She was fierce:  fiercely loyal and a tiny bit stubborn.  

And Grandma loved God.  She walked faithfully with him, and her love for him and her faithful service to him showed in her complete love for each of us.  She is the reason direct, and indirect that many of us know and love Christ.  Countless times she told me of how she and Grandpa prayed for each of us everyday in their morning devotions.  Oh, how I have treasured those prayers!!

Grandma was a servant.  Many in our family learned to play pinochle making up a foursome with Grandpa and two others while having Grandma looking over our shoulders and coaching us.  She was always willing to do what would help or promote someone else.  She made us all, especially Grandpa, look good!  

In a world where success is often measured in accolades and awards, in job titles, or in degrees earned, Grandma's measure would seem to be small, but even without knowing it, when we look at Grandma's life, we recognize that there is a truer measuring stick.  We all know how valuable to us her life was, and we say, "Here is one whose life mattered more because it was poured out in love and service to others."

When I was younger and more foolish, I used to think that I would like to live a life that someone might want to write a book about.  I've since grown up a bit, and I realize now that I'd much rather live a life of faithful love and service to God like the one that my Grandma Claire lived.