In Loving Memory

Life is too precious.

 

My Grossi met Jesus March 11, 2019.  She listened to Him release the words, “Well done, Thy good and faithful servant.”  I wonder if He had tears in His eyes as He said it.  God watched Mary Ellen endure her deepest joys and most anguished sorrows.  She made it—she fought the good fight, and she finished the race with joy.  I wonder if it brought tears to His eyes.  

He had comforted her when she mourned, as He comforts we who mourn.  

 

I think that the hardest part about grief is knowing that you will never be able to make memories with that person again.  Death prompts you to remember all the little things that you didn’t realize you would miss.

 

Her smile, her laughter, her lipstick, her spunk.  Her resolution.  She was stubborn, as many of you know, and she was strong.  I admired her tenacity.  

 

It’s in those little moments that you grow to love someone—it’s the collection of those small moments that builds our trust and our admiration.  Those small, insignificant moments.  

And it’s often not until death that we realize the magnificence of all those moments.  

 

Mary Ellen Schraner built her life from a collection of moments that highlighted the importance of faith, family, and friends.  This church and these people made those moments.  You, here today, were everything to her.  She found her foundation in Christ and her blessings and joys in you.  

 

Nine years ago, my mother gave her a notebook entitled Grandmother, Tell Me Your Story.  Within it poses the question, “What are some of the things you hope your children and grandchildren have learned from you?”

 

Her answer: “Faith—the belief in God, Cooking—Hospitality,” which I know many of you inherited, and “peace in the family.”  Mary Ellen taught me those three things, and she taught me to have fun and to celebrate when life calls for celebration.  She prayed for her family more than anyone I know, she welcomed me to her home many times, and she filled my heart with joy and abundance.  

 

It’s strange that she’s not here with us.  It doesn’t resonate well.  My mother once said, “We are eternal beings.  We were never meant to say goodbye.”  I suppose that is why it is so devastatingly painful to miss someone who deposited memories into our own life that made us have a life worth living.

 

So, as we hold our breath, and as we will the world to stop spinning, let’s take the quietness of grief and utilize it as a reminder to cling to the mundane moments.  Let’s hold one another a little closer, for a little longer.  Life is far too precious and far too short to cling to anything but those who love us.  

 

I John 2:17 reads, “And the world is passing away along with its desires, but whoever does the will of God abides forever.”  This became one of my favorite verses the first time I endured grief from a separation that feels so very permanent, but the reality is that permanence fades when you recall Christ’s three words: “It is finished.”  

 

Mary Ellen was ready to meet the Savior of the world, the God that held her tears in a leger.  The God that gave her breath, and the God that took her breath away.  The God who allowed tragedy, the God who prepared and encouraged her through devastation.  The God who blessed her with so many people and things.  The God who allowed her to live a full life—she was not afraid to meet the God she knew so well and loved so dear.

 

I wonder if she brought tears to her Savior’s eyes—happy tears.  Christ knew that He brought her home.  The heartache and the pain of this world has left her, and she has been made alive in the fullness of Christ.  

 

While we cry because we miss her, I think that Christ may shed a tear in welcoming her home.

The Reset

And it was the end of an era I was not ready to let go of…

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Two-Thousand and Eighteen: a year that completed four years of alteration. 

– 2014 –

We moved to Virginia days after I graduated high school.  I was sixteen, driving from Arkansas to Virginia with Shadow as my copilot, and leaving everything familiar behind except my family.  We knew nothing of Virginia nor the East Coast, but I was supremely excited for the anticipated adventure.  Though I had many dear friends there, I was ready to leave Arkansas.  June 4, 2018, we arrived at our new home and a series of changes rapidly ensued.

[Journal Entry, dated July 25, 2015, italicized]

Sometimes I stop myself and take a breath and let it sink in; this is what I wanted, and this is how I imagined it.  I have lots of friends who love me…we stay out late and stay up even later.  We laugh and cry together, and I’m independent.  This is what I always dreamed of. Yes, it’s horrifying, but if I’m really being honest, I’m in love with the constant chaos of everything around me. 

Somehow, it’s terrifyingly beautiful.

I love my life, and I’m so thankful for where God has placed me.  This past year has been a year of healing that I never could have dreamed of, and of rejuvenating that I didn’t know I needed.

I was exhausted when I left Arkansas.  Now, being here has helped me so much.  I love it, and I’m not ready to leave.  But God is preparing my heart, and He will be with me.  I love him, and I love my life.  I am mortified of what will become of me, but I’m not afraid of who I will become.  If I keep Him centered, what is to fear?

12465568_10154294980021729_1345779115_oI wrote that a month before I left for Liberty University in a leather-bound journal that Laura Denson gave me.  Thanks to the community God provided me with, Hampton was everything that I prayed for when I left Arkansas.  I thought that going to LU would terminate many of the friendships I had made over the past year.  While some naturally faded, others wonderfully strengthened. 

[Journal Entry, dated December 11, 2017, italicized]

By the end of 2017, few people remained in Hampton whom I had met in 2014.  Much of what I had grown accustomed to slowly faded away, and I no longer spent ample time with a majority of the people in these photos due to peoples’ moves, church changes, and/or other miscellaneous life transitions. 

I was growing restless. 22549927_1433640100022655_4125797685064880172_n

This season pains existence.  Questions never cease, and answers never come.  The twenties are so much harder than everyone tells you… Unpredictability characterizes this stage.  My heart rips between here [Lynchburg] and Hampton… I’m exhausted from being alive.  I need something new.  I’m not even sure how I’ll make it next semester.  I am so burnt out.

And thus, I drove home for Christmas break, and my friends and family reminded me why I held Hampton so dear.

– 2018 –

[Journal Entry, dated January 1, 2018, itlalicized]

I began the year by running away to Europe—I specialize in running when I’ fear reality—and came back with a refreshed perspective. 

The Lord reveals things, not in our timing, but in His; yet He laces hints in unlikely moments.  My stubbornness falters me, yet He gives perfect grace to woo me to Him.  He called me out from the wilderness of my own mind and brought me back softly to His presence.  He’s reminded me of His sovereignty and His plan.  That’s right, God has a plan for me.  It’s a truth I’ve treated as a lie for quite some time due to my sin of disbelief.  

– – –

Walter was with me during my first year in Hampton, and he was the last person from that stage of my life that remained close.  When Walter died, so left the last consistent reminder of 2014.  IMG_5941.jpg

Thus, it was reset.

[Journal Entry, dated January 1, 2018, continued]

I allowed my ignorance and frustration to warp my mind; so I looked to my known God—a good God, a creator, an assigner of work, a loving Father, a sovereign king—and ascribed to Him all of my anxieties…I embraced negativity and ran from my Savior because of the pain in my heart.  I hurt, deeply, and I blamed God for it. 

Yet, all the while, it was He who spoke kindly to me.  It was He who whispered truth, even when I barely listened.  All the while, He was stirring up my affections, burdening me with trivial matters, exposing my heart slowly… Slowly, softly, gently, because He knew I could not take it all at once.

I lost Walter, my mini-cooper, the familiarity of Lynchburg and college life within two weeks.  My family moved the day I graduated, I quit a job I enjoyed a month later, and Shadow passed away shortly after that.  

I’m ready for 2019.  I’m excited to see what God will do.  He’s growing me and He’s healing me.  2018 made me realize the depths of my weakness, but I am relearning to abide in God’s strength.  I feel stronger and braver than I have felt in quite some time. BDBED1A4-9156-48D4-AED9-F87B59F016B5.jpeg

It’s like one of those movies that ends where it began—when I returned to Hampton in May, everything I became familiarized with in 2014 was gone. 

2018 was terrifyingly beautiful.

I moved to Hampton days after I graduated college.  I was twenty, driving from Lynchburg to Hampton with Spotify as my copilot, and leaving everything familiar behind except my friends.  I grew to love Virginia and embraced the East Coast, but I somberly and optimistically anticipate the next adventure. 

“Cling to What Is Good”

November 22, 2018

“Here, Hopey, it’s your turn.”  My Aunt Beth smiles as she hands me our family’s Thanksgiving notebook—the ledger that preserves memoirs from the past three years of each of our lives.  I release an oppressed sigh as my fingers trace the globe on the book’s cover and my mind drifts to a conversation I had with a dear friend the week prior.

– – –

“Hope, how are you doing?”  My eyes involuntarily fell into my coffee cup before I mustered the courage to respond.

“Honestly?”  I paused as I decided between duplicity and vulnerability: “I feel physically beat up.  I feel like I got knocked down this year and have been kicked over and over and over again.  I am physically and mentally exhausted.”

– – –

Beholding the journal, I apprehensively open the cover.  What on earth am I supposed to write this year?  Thanksgiving looked different than what I had anticipated weeks before, and I dreaded receiving this notebook; however, recalling that memory, sitting in my brother’s house, and being surrounded by family, somberness softly melted into gratefulness.  Thus, I began with three simple words: “2018 was a year.”

* * *

I pondered the past eleven months of one surreal year.  I spent New Year’s 30,000 feet in the air headed for London—I felt independent and free and unstoppable.  I was twenty years old and flying to Europe for a five-country tour with some of my best friends, and then returning to my final semester of college.  I had no idea what my life would look like after graduation and studied for half our trip, but I was reminded to enjoy the moment.  God would provide in such miraculous ways in the months to come.

26730908_1520870774632920_5734749559510876688_n.jpgLife was a blur between January and May—sooo many late nights spent with Isabella, Emily, and Judd.  Book club continued with Candace as we finished Priscilla Schrier’s Resolutions for Women and began Amanda Bible-Wilson and Raechel Myer’s She Reads Truth.  We celebrated Ben and Lauren’s engagement and we cheered as Judd open for John Mark McMillan.  School was crazy, but that’s consistent, so what’s new there?  It was a perfect semester, culminated with enough stress and excitement to fill one’s life with awe and thankfulness.  I spent more weekends than I had preferred in Hampton, but, in the end, I will forever thank God for how He arranged those trips back and forth.

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Then we come to my favorite memory: at the end of April, Walter, Tyler, and Josh visited me in Lynchburg for a Hillsong concert. I remember sitting at dinner with Walt and Ty and thinking that it felt like old times—these had been my dear friends since I was 16. We all headed back to Hampton for Matt and Kayla’s beautiful wedding and continued to make the greatest memories.  Walter convinced me to stay in Hampton after graduation and my sweet friend, Rachel, made that possible.   I remember calling my mom that Monday and telling her how sweet that weekend had been—Ty and Walt visited me every year I was at Liberty and I didn’t think that would have been possible for them to come this year.  That was the last time that I saw Walter.  God was so kind to allow that trip.31430356_1616995038353826_3057660479495575863_n.jpg

After that weekend, everything seemed to fall apart.  There were nine weeks of affliction—nine weeks where God revealed that nothing is constant, and nothing is permanent apart from Him.

Weary and discouraged, I boarded a plane to Portland, Oregon for a trip my grandparents had planned months before.  I spent 18 days surrounded by family in a place far from the troubles of home.  I learned how to breathe again and how to rest in the Lord’s presence.  I realized the amount of pressure I bombard myself with when I attempt to rely on my own strength.  I am so, so weak.  I learned to lean on the strength of my Savior.

37927544_1727112754008720_5934112775352614912_n.jpgWhen I returned, my external circumstances remained uncertain, but my internal conflict ceased.  I was ready to leave Virginia and would have given up had it not been for the encouragement of Nelly, Derek, and my grandparents.  August 8th, five days after I got back, I accepted a job in Virginia and chose to persist; the shadows of the uncertain slowly began to fade away.

– – –

I dreaded receiving that notebook, for I had no idea what I would write.  What do you write for a year you wish did not exist?  It’s been a year.  Many things about this year feel fake–like they didn’t or shouldn’t have happened.

Yet God reminded me of His faithfulness.  I remembered all the little moments that God used to prepare me for greater trials.  I remembered Becca and Brittany and Lauren and Ben and Candace and Daniel and Maddie and Katie and Jocelyn and Jenny and Judd and Isabella and Emily—29102040_1573573962695934_132536839882033839_n.jpgI remembered all of the friends who made college so wonderful and who helped me finish.  I remembered how God allowed Candace and I to read a book about how He is permanent in a world that is passing away before and after Walter met Him.  I finished college feebly, returning to school for final exams and papers the week after Walter passed away.  I remember how Sandy and I clung to one another that first week back.  I remembered how kind, supportive, and understanding all of my professors were.  I remember how God allowed me to graduate despite the hardships—I would not have finished that final semester apart from God’s grace.32982080_1638167396236590_9186676991623954432_n.jpg

33027682_1638178599568803_2408179426903719936_n.jpgI remembered spending almost every Friday night with Morgan, Gabi, Laura Kate, and Lauren watching It Takes a Church and laughing together.  37121019_1708897055830290_1329648512505217024_n.jpgI remembered the summer that my Church became my family in the purest way.  I remembered visiting my parents in their new home and getting to spend a week of sweet vacation with them.  I remembered going to Colorado to visit Tyler with Lauren, Mike, and Scott, and enjoying ourselves though everything that could have gone wrong went wrong.  I remembered running to the beach with several friends to get away when things got too rough at home.

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I remembered worshipping with those closest to me—in tears, in song, in celebration, and in laughter.

* * *

I received that notebook and I relentlessly wept as I mourned the past year.  My family saw me and they held me as I clung to them.  Nothing needed to be said, we all knew.

Thankfulness overcame me as I thought about the family that surrounds me.  I held my niece each morning as she ate breakfast, and I played with my nephew’s hair until he fell asleep.IMG_0030.jpeg  I enjoyed early mornings with my parents and Luke and Karley and Aunt Beth and Uncle Terry and spent the afternoon the whole family.  Each day was so sweet and so special.  It’s been wonderful to have Luke and Karley live near–they have blessed me so much.  Each of my siblings and their families have surpassed my expectations this year–I wondered what our relationships would look like once Mom and Dad moved away–I have grown closer to all of them this year.

It’s been a year–more painful than words express.  I did not want to be grateful this year.  I did not want to acknowledge all that God has blessed me within 2018–I wanted to focus on all that God has allowed to be taken from me.  But He has blessed me, and He has been with me and before me through it all.

Let love be without hypocrisy.  Abhor what is evil, cling to what is good.

Romans 12:9

I am so weak.  I need God’s strength and I need that reminder to “cling to what is good.”  He is good, even when life aches.

When my strength fails, He is strong.  When circumstances change, He is constant. When people disappoint me, He is faithful.  When I make mistakes, He is forgiving.  When everything collapses, He is a firm foundation.

2018 was a year.  Yes, I do feel beaten down, but “we are afflicted in every way, but not crushed; perplexed, but not driven to despair,” II Corinthians 4:8.  Therefore, I will hope in the God that provides everything I need yesterday, today, and forever, and my hope will not be put to shame.

For Further Reading:

Hebrews 10:39

II Corinthians 4:16-18

Job 1:21

Psalm 136

Hosea 2

I John 2:17

Deuteronomy 31:6

II Corinthians 4

The Splendor of Benevolence

While concluding our third (and presumed final) book, Candace and I enthusiastically agreed that we must begin another; though graduation looms within months, we couldn’t handle the possibility of not studying another text together.  Candace drove us to Lifeway to select a new book, however, we couldn’t imagine what would happen once we arrived.

Sitting on the floor in the bookstore with inquisitive spirits and incessant laughter while searching for our subsequent book, a middle-aged woman approached us:

“You have no idea how much encouragement it brings me to see you two young ladies sitting on the floor of the Women’s section laughing and looking at all the different books,” Julia graciously stated.  Candace and I thanked her and introduced ourselves to meet our new friend and with tears welling in her eyes she commended us for simply being our silly selves.  Once we parted ways, Candace and I browsed the bookstore, but, after we decided upon a text, we returned to our original section and Julia found us once more.

She thanked us again, but this time she released the tears to recede as she described the hardships she’s enduring.  We were able to pray with her and perceive the weight being lifted from her mind as her demeanor melted from a deep sorrow into a gentle joy.  Julia informed us that God provided exactly what she needed, and thanked us for inspiring her.  This courageously vulnerable woman thanked us, simply for sitting on the floor of a bookstore: instantly, we were humbled.

We parted again but met her at the checkout but said our final goodbyes by happily waving to our new friend as she walked out the door.  Candace and I brimmed with gratitude about our encounter with Julia—she was so vulnerable and so encouraging even while enduring such pain.  Moments after Julia left, we reached the front of the line and the clerk handed us gift cards that Julia left for us; awe overtook Candace and I as we processed the clerk’s gesture—what a sweet woman to leave a gift to two strangers.

We beamed with joy on the car ride home.  That’s the Church—that’s the body of Christ—we uplift one another when sorrow submerges us and we exhort one another when we perceive the Holy Spirit’s work in one’s life.  This was one of the most beautiful moments I have experienced in quite some time.  I was so blessed to meet Julia, and I know Candace was too.  She began addressing us with kind encouragement, and she completed the conversation with a gracious gift.

Candace and I reflected on God’s faithfulness, occupied with awe and humility.  Joy invaded our hearts and strength replenished our minds—this is why we pray and study God’s word—these moments are why we faithfully serve Christ and commend one another to do likewise: because Jesus changes lives.  From the moment one surrenders their life to Christ, He does not stop radically impacting them and gently beckoning them into His presence.  We saw that in Julia’s life and we felt that in our own lives; we serve such a faithful God who constantly reminds us of His steadfast love.