Funeral

Yesterday was the funeral. It was, perfect. Praise and worship songs started it off. Just what Grama would have wanted. I think may have cried hardest during those songs. It really was a celebration that Grama was home. Aunt Mary wrote a song that she and Uncle Bob sang. Pastor Pete spoke.

I had the opportunity to read a letter from a family member who was unable to attend. In addition, I said a few words about Grama. After that, dozens of family and friends got up to speak about Grama.

I could spend hours recounting all the stories they told and memories they shared. But the recurrent theme will tell you enough. Grama prayed. She encouraged. She loved. She cared. She forgave.

It was amazing to me how many people in that room had received words of encouragement from Grama. They had also received her cards with stick figures and stickers and Bible verses. They had gotten a phone call, a gift, a hug. Every single person in that room felt like the most important person in Grama's life. How did she do that? How did she make sixteen grandchildren all feel like they were her favorite grandchild? I don't know. But I want to figure it out. And I want to be like her.

My cousin Josh reminded us all that it is her six children and sixteen grandchildren and nineteen great grandchildren who must now pick up the slack that will inevitably exist due to Grama's departure. We don't want to discover how much she prayed by the prayers ceasing to exist. It is our turn to pray in her absence. It is no accident that all of her children, grandchildren, and great grandchildren walk with the Lord. That we are healthy and blessed. It is because, as my father said at the funeral, "God had this woman in his face every single day!"

Grama prayed hard. She prayed everyday. That's what I briefly shared at the funeral. During our infertility journey, when I was wrought with migraines and disappointments, it was Grama I called to ask her to pray. Not only did she pray with me right when I called, but she would pray for me afterwards as well. It was always genuine with Grama. Always pure. She was who she was. You always knew where she stood. She didn't pray to go through the motions. You knew she was really talking to God.

After the two and a half hour service, we headed to the cemetery where Grama was buried next to my Grampa. We then enjoyed a delicious meal provided by the church before heading over to Bob and Mary's for a little birthday party for Tyler.

I woke up at 4:00 this morning to head home. Arrived back at the house shortly before lunch. It's good to be home. But I am so blessed I took the time for a whirlwind weekend away. It was so wonderful to be with my family as we remembered the matriarch of the Huisman family. It was the first time since Isaac was born that I had no children with me. That I spent a night away from both of them. JB did a fantastic job holding down the fort. Even had clean bottles and laundry when I got in. I could not have done it without Joia and JB. Thank you both.

For now, we are settling down for some tennis. I have a few more things to post about my Grama, but they can wait for another day.