Today, I'm sharing a personal post. We buried my grandmother on Sunday and I had the honor of speaking at her funeral. Here's what I said...
In 2004, my grandmother
traveled to Ghana, West Africa to visit the Christian school named in her
honor. But because of illness, the trip was cut short. She thought she would never
be able to return. The Lord, however, had different plans. She did return—twice!—in
2010, and again less than a year ago in the summer of 2012 for a final visit. For
almost 20 years, right up to the day she drew her last breath, Grammy viewed
the work in Ghana, West Africa as her God-given purpose in life. She could have
with the Psalmist proclaimed: “O God, from my youth you have taught me, and I
still proclaim your wondrous deeds. So even to old age and gray hairs, O God,
do not forsake me, until I proclaim your might to another generation, your
power to all those to come” (Psalm
71:17-18). Her intense desire was for the gospel to be preached, the church
to grow, and lives to be touched with the love of Jesus Christ through the Mary
Parham International School. A few days before she passed away, she spoke on
the phone with John Blay Eshun, the African preacher who calls her “mom.” She
tried to explain that her health was failing fast, even as he spoke of his hope
for her return to Ghana. She told him, “My heart is with you in Africa, but my
body is too weak.” Truly, her heart belonged to the work, the place, and the
people. And it’s remarkable that as we mourn here today, there are Christians,
schoolchildren, families, and villagers on the other side of the world mourning
with us.
My grandmother was an
ordinary woman whom God used to do extraordinary things. I once asked Grammy,
“What would your parents think if they knew you had a school named for you in
Africa?” She couldn’t come up with the words to express herself: “They wouldn’t
even be able to…comprehend it!” To say her origins were humble would be an
inadequate way of putting it. She was the daughter of sharecroppers in rural
Mississippi, born July 19, 1931 in a two-room house that sat by a creek. Her
family had no electricity or running water in those days, and all the meals
were cooked in a big black pot hanging in the fireplace or on the iron stove
that burned wood. If the winter was cold enough, they would sleep under so many
blankets that they could hardly turn over in their beds. Her daddy would often bring
home flour in 50 pound sacks and when the flour was gone, her mama would wash
and iron those sacks and then cut out dresses for her or shirts for her
brother. When the fall came and it was time to harvest cotton, schools let out
early so that children could help their families in the fields. Grammy grew up
poor. She picked cotton and hoed corn under the hot Mississippi sun, and she
developed a toughness that followed her, and often served her well, throughout
her life.
Grammy’s foundation of
faith was laid early. Her daddy and mama were firm believers in going to
church, and because the family didn’t own a car, they would go wherever their
feet or a church bus would take them. Her mama would read from the Bible every
night, not only to the children, but to her daddy who never learned to read.
And when she was around 13, Grammy was baptized in a creek near a local church
house.
Grammy was never a
stranger to hardship, and to heartache. Her family fell on particularly hard
times during her teenage years, leading her to drop out of Tupelo High School.
The day that she quit school, six weeks into her junior year, was counted by
her as one of the worst days of her life. Grammy was married at 18, and gave
birth to her first child, a daughter named Kathy, at 19. Two more children were
born to her and her husband Neely Adams: a son named Neely III (Nick) and a
daughter named Teresa. The family had moved by this time, and lived at 405 S.
Germantown Rd. in East Ridge, carving out a new life together in a new place. But
it was not long before tragedy struck. Neely was diagnosed with a brain tumor,
and at the age of 39, succumbed to the disease. Grammy was made a widow at 33.
She had no high school diploma, no professional training, and three young
children to feed and care for. Those were difficult days. Nick says that what
got the family through them were God, their uncle Wayne, and Roy and Ruby
Williams. During that time, Grammy began searching for a job to support her
family, and found a position at the city hall. And that’s where she met my
Papa. They began to date, and were married in 1967. Papa and Grammy formed a
new family that year, and Papa’s sons Doug and Chuck now had three new siblings,
whether they liked it or not. And a year later, another was added to the mix—Rodney
was born. Merging two families into one was not without its challenges, but
Grammy and Papa were committed to the task and they worked hard at it. And
today, my entire family is gathered here as a testament to their success.
For 46 years, Grammy loved
Papa and Papa loved Grammy. They were fully devoted to one another, and to the
family they were building. In Grammy’s final weeks and days, Papa’s devotion to
her was put on full display as he served and cared for her in sickness,
teaching all of us what a marriage commitment truly means. And while Grammy
taught us so much about how to live well, she also taught us what it means to
die well; what it means to stare death in the eyes and to know that it won’t
have the final victory and to fiercely love until the end. She told us, “I’m
not going home to die. I am going home to live.” And live she did, until she
breathed her last, in her chair in the den, surrounded by her children and
loved ones singing hymns to usher her into the arms of her Savior.
Grammy’s loss leaves a
huge void because she made a huge impact, one that stretches even beyond our
continent. It brings us sorrow to know that we will never again hear her voice
on the other end of a telephone, or her laughter ring out across a room. We can
feel her absence in a tangible way. And yet, in the midst of our sorrow, we
find joy in reflecting on a life that was lived to the full for the glory of
God. If I could ask Grammy today how a poor farm girl from the rural south
wound up serving the cause of Christ in such a powerful way, she’d have a
one-word answer: God.
I could stand here and conclude this service with more about her toughness, her determination, her self-taught knowledge, her strength, or her resilience. But I would be remiss (and Grammy would be upset with me) if I didn't end talking about her faith. She was a strong and resilient woman, not because of her own might, but because of her complete trust in a mighty God. The God that my grandmother worshipped and served was not some distant, detached deity. She believed in a providential God; a God who had been with her and for her all along, guiding her steps and leading her life. She believed in a God who loved her, and who loved the whole world so much that He sent His only Son to die on a cross to redeem it. And at this very hour, Grammy is in the glorious presence of this Son Jesus Christ. Her death saddens us, but then we listen to that voice that booms down from heaven in Revelation 14:13: "Blessed are the dead who die in the Lord from now on. Blessed indeed that they may rest from their labors, for their deeds follow them!" Grammy's deeds to lift up the name of Jesus have followed her into heaven, but they have also stayed with us on earth, inspiring us to place our trust in the Lord, who still does extraordinary things through ordinary people.
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