Welcome to the day of new beginnings…Easter.
/ / Today, death was conquered. / /
March is the month of new beginnings. It is the first month winter’s cold fades. It is the first month I was able to hold our sweet Liana. It is the month my grandmother was born.
I’ve been thinking a lot about her these past few weeks. My spunky, kind, and matter-of-fact grandmother. She’s been gone for a little over five years. I’ll always remember how long because my sweet Titus was four months old when she passed. He will be six this year. Her death still feels like a parent’s death. Grief lingers longer than I expected it to.
The last Saturday I spent at her house was two weeks before she died. I sat with her while my mom and aunts took a break. She was only seventy-seven years old. That’s how old my mother was when she died… she whispered weakly, while she rested in her favorite chair. I sat in her maroon, overstuffed lazy-boy chair. It was my favorite chair because it was short. My feet could touch the floor when I sat in it. My little Titus lay on a blanket in the floor. The T.V. was on, but we weren’t watching it.
I watched her instead. I tried to memorize her. Her wrinkles. The long, soft fingers holding her cup of water. The way her white and silver hair wrapped around her face. She lost none of it during the few weeks of chemo. The same chemo she had to stop because it was just too much. I sat there – both content and heartbroken at the same time. She smiled at me. But she mostly smiled at the baby, squirming around. She closed her eyes and frowned.
You’ll be able to go back to church soon. I know you miss your friends. You can get a wheelchair. I’m sure Lisa or Kim will take you. I tried to reassure her.
She opened her eyes. Yes, she said. I could, couldn’t I? The twinkle returned.
It was the last conversation we had. I hugged her so tight when I left. Tears fell as I sat in my car to drive home. Two weeks later, she was made new. A new body. With her Jesus. I saw a picture of her the other day, and suddenly the tears were there again. Jason grabbed my hand, You’ll see her again.
I will. I’ll see her again. It feels wrong to be so confident in something so unseen. But I am beyond confident I’ll see her again. Grief likes to hold on, and sometimes grief is ok and I can handle it. The sadness, loneliness, and ache are ok. But sometimes I need a little hope. And Easter is all about HOPE. And confidence. I can say with complete confidence, because our Savior rose again, I will see her again.
Easter is my hope of new life. Easter is my ability to be so sure of heaven. So sure of the resurrection and new life.
Are you sure?
Do you have the hope of heaven in your own heart? As you look deep inside your heart, do you see your good works and think, Sure, I’ll make it to heaven? If you do think you’ve done enough, I’ll have to disappoint you. You can never do enough. Do you see your heart and see all of the bad? Do you feel like you are always messing up? Yep, that’s me too. But that’s why Jesus died. On the cross. To pay for the penalty for your sin. (and mine) Not just so we can have a clean slate. He was paving the way to new life. And the promise of heaven. That’s why He didn’t stay dead, but rose again!
I’d love to talk to you more about this new life. Send me an email (Sarah@sarahefrazer.com) and let me know if I can pray or talk with you!
Blessings and Happy Easter!