You may know how uncomfortable it is to try and carry both sides of a conversation. Such was the dilemma I faced with my maternal grandmother, Mimi. As she lost more and more of her vision, her world was shrinking. Although she was receiving excellent care in a small group home, her health was declining as was her ability to converse. She was so hungry for input, I would leave each visit drained and dreading the next. One day, God intervened. After updating her on the activities of her great-grandchildren, I heard myself say, “Tell me about your childhood in Oklahoma!” She smiled, tilted her head, and then to my amazement, laughed aloud before she began sharing stories.
TAKING NOTES: My grandmother and her three brothers had lived in the Sooner state before it was a state. My great-grandpa owned a livery stable in the little town of Atoka, so their adventures were many. As she recounted their “shenanigans,” it was as if my grandmother resumed life before my eyes. She sat up straighter and became animated. I left that visit refreshed and inspired. With her permission, I began taking notes during subsequent interactions. Over time, I acquired enough stories to write a rather interesting family history. How thankful I am for those times in which my questions and note-taking honored my grandmother and gave her the pleasure of sharing treasured stories. It was so effective, I began trying this approach on my husband’s family members. To my amazement, I observed the same response! My very private mother-in-law also gave me permission to take notes. When I would pull out my steno pad, she would sit up a little straighter . . . every time. I had the privilege of hearing and capturing stories that were even new to my husband.
About this time, I found myself sitting beside his Uncle Ed at a large and boisterous Miller dinner. Uncle Ed was a survivor of Pear Harbor. I was well aware that no one in the family had yet heard his story. Quietly and respectfully, I asked if I could make an appointment for that purpose. Uncle Ed said neither yes or no to an appointment. Instead, he began describing his utter consternation that December 7th in 1941 when a Japanese plane began shooting at him! The plane was strafing his ship, but to Uncle Ed, it felt quite personal as he ran to his battle station. His thought was simply, What’d I ever do to you?! Three generations of Millers went silent as Uncle Ed described how a torpedo went under his ship to sink the one next to it. Uncle Ed was a great storyteller and an educator. My husband handed me my steno pad, and I took pages of notes! We learned the ship’s ammo had been locked up below decks without an officer on board. Locks were broken and leadership was born amidst the chaos. Ed got his gun working and downed three Japanese planes with the assistance of a sailor he grabbed out of the crowd. Amazingly, the Detroit survived and sailed out of Pearl Harbor. I have no idea why Uncle Ed chose to share his story that day except – I asked.
A few years later, 2004, my dearest friend was dying. She was so sick that we had lost the ability to converse at any meaningful level. Accordingly, I missed her even before she went to be with the Lord. However, my presence was a comfort to her. Although I lived in another state, I spent much time in her home that last summer. I was quietly reading one night in her living room when I chuckled, then laughed, and laughed again. The book I was reading, Bad Ground by Dale Cramer, is the kind of book that prompts both laughter and tears. This particular night, I laughed so much, it was only courteous to read that particular section aloud to my friend.
READING ALOUD: I had tried reading to her before, but nothing had caught her interest. To my delight, the all-male underground world of Bad Ground intrigued both of us, and we shared the author’s domain for hours. It was glorious. My friend did not need to talk. Author Dale Cramer tells a compelling and complicated story of brotherly love, tragedy and grief, coming of age, and release from the prisons we build for ourselves. This particular novel was a sweet tool in God’s hand. With my prayer partner of many years, I was able to share much eye contact, tears and abundant laughter. Once again, my dear friend and I were on the same page of life, and it was a glorious gift.
I later wrote Mr. Cramer to let him know how graciously God had used his novel. In response, he sent me his author’s first hard back copy to honor my dear friend. It seems to me that God is very interested in how we exit this world and has acquired an unusual cast of comforters. Whether they be stories to share, an extremely well-crafted novel that touches hearts, an opportune question, a listening ear or note-taking . . . let’s use them all to capture intimacy yet again as we take our leave of this life and those we love.
