My written words will never fully capture the beauty of what I experienced yesterday.
My grandma is about to turn 96, having led a rich, full life. This past year has been particularly tough on her as her health declines, but I believe she also yearns for the freedom of the farm where she spent so many years in the heart of Iowa.
If you’ve ever been to Iowa, you can close your eyes and picture the place. It was a couple of hundred acres with rolling hills and treelines lining the fences. In the back pasture, relics of the 40s and 50s—vehicles long worn out—sat quietly. Two tractors were there, although it seemed like only one worked at any given time. Under shed roofs, old farm implements rested, including the baler that produced small square bales and always seemed to need fixing. Deer, pheasant, and quail were abundant as far back as I can remember. The mail truck arrived like clockwork every day, leaving a trail of dust as it sped up the gravel road. A passing car almost always warranted a wave.
I can tell she misses the freedom and simplicity of country life. But more than that, she misses the community and the people. In Clarke County, everyone seemed like family, either by blood or through the small church, Bethel Chapel. During harvest time, farmers would gather to help each other, and a large meal always followed the hard day’s work. Connections were deep and vital for survival. She always had a friend nearby.
My grandpa passed away years ago. Their deep love for each other was evident to all who knew them. Despite losing him, she never lost her joy. This became clear to me during my visit yesterday.
My mom handed my grandma a stack of photos of her great-great-grandchildren. As each picture was passed to her, grandma would hold it with both hands, bringing it close to her eyes to see the details, and she would study it for what felt like an eternity to me.
Then she would gently press her finger onto the child’s picture and speak. Phrases like “you like to swim, don’t you” and “aren’t you precious” flowed from her. Picture after picture, the same scene unfolded. This lasted for quite a while, and I could tell that once she had gone through the entire stack, she was reluctant to let them go.
Friends, life is beautiful, even amid physical decline and loneliness. She knows that her time is nearing its end and wonders why God hasn’t taken her yet.
I believe it’s for moments like the one we shared yesterday. I saw her navigate loneliness and aging in a Spirit-filled, profound way. The message is clear: find meaning and contentment in your actions and relationships now. Let my grandma be an example for you, no matter your age.
Ecclesiastes 11:9-10: “You who are young, be happy while you are young, and let your heart give you joy in the days of your youth. Follow the ways of your heart and whatever your eyes see, but know that for all these things God will bring you into judgment. So then, banish anxiety from your heart and cast off the troubles of your body, for youth and vigor are meaningless.”