The Race is Run.....

Her time of departure was at hand.

She fought a good fight.

She finished her course.

She kept her faith.

Well done, thou good and faithful servant.

Now she rests.

My beloved grandmother, Irwin Lucille Gregg, departed this life at 9:39 PM this evening. As she held my hand through life, I held hers through death. It was the last physical act of loving kindness I could extend to her and it hardly seemed enough. She is at peace and I sorrow. Now I must help to prepare her life celebration and the strength that kept me at her side seems to have ebbed. My love for her cheers me on to do my best lasts for her.

I may be called on to speak, yet I feel I have no voice, words and heart fail me. I feel like the phoenix, a mythical bird with beautiful gold and red plumage. At the end of its life-cycle the phoenix builds itself a nest of cinnamon twigs that it then ignites; both nest a bird burn fiercely and are reduced to ashes, from which a new, young phoenix arises. The new phoenix is destined to live, usually, as long as the old one.

I feel as if my emotions have been ignited, fiercely burned, and been reduced to ashes. Now I must garner strength from the example of the old phoenix, my grandmother. As the new young phoenix I must arise and live my alloted days as well as the old one did and make her proud.

The story of the phoenix is a symbol of Christ, representing His death, resurrection, and life-after death in heaven. These are the truths the foundation of my faith are built on and they comfort me in this time of loss and grieving. I cling to the promises that I will receive comfort in my mourning and it will be turned into joy, eventually replacing my sorrow. I know my broken heart will be bound up. I know that He will give me beauty for ashes and strength in fear as He drapes me in a garment of praise, which will cloak the spirit of heaviness. He will enable me to honor her and glorify Him.

Perhaps I too will be able to amass some of the beautiful plumage the old phoenix is known for. Some gold, in the form of richness of character, wealth of wisdom, and a treasure trove of the Christian graces ~ love, joy, peace, patience, gentleness, goodness, faith, meekness, and self-control. Some red, a primary color of light, living in the Spirit and walking in the Spirit, sharing the light of Christ. My grandmother bore such plumage and I can only hope that as I rise from the ashes of sorrow that it will be reborn and reflected in me. This is the greatest last gift I can give to honor her ~ to walk in her shoes.

Struggling to rise,
Miss Sandy