Ten Things about Grace

Can I just name ten? No. I can name a million and still have room for more.

1. She was a good singer. She was off key to human ears, but she was right on pitch to God's. We'd listen to Veggie Tales in the car, and she'd say from the back seat, "daddy, crank it up!" She'd wiggle her body, and let "I Love My Lips," (a silly song by Larry, if you're unaware) fly out of her lips.

2. She loved to collect pennies. This is something that happened shortly after her diagnosis. We found a penny on the sidewalk one day, and she picked it up. She later put it in her penny bank. After that, she picked up any and every penny she found, and people began giving her pennies from different years. She eventually ended up with at least one penny from every birth year in our family ('68, '69, '01, '03). She thought that was funny.

3. She loved bedtime. I don't know too many kids who love bedtime, including Grace's brother. We would snuggle with her for a few minutes, Katie would hold her hand, and I would create a story or play some music. She'd drift off to sleep and to dreams that didn't involve doctor's visits or chemo.

4. She wasn't afraid of anything. I don't like snakes. She handled one at the zoo. I don't like heights. She loved the mountains. She didn't mind spiders and chased after frogs. After becoming lost in Target one time, Kate and I naturally become scared. Grace; when we were called to get her over the loud speaker, she was sitting on a register smiling at us.

5. She lost her hair, but you'd never know. Of course, physically, you could see it. However, she didn't see it at all. My father-in-law is bald. In Grace's mind, she was like Papaw.

6. She let me be her hero. Unless you have children, you have no idea how exciting and wonderful that feeling is of being a superhero again.

7. She was funny. I could laugh without having a reason for doing so, and I did that a lot with her. She loved knock-knock jokes, even though she didn't understand half of her punchlines.

8. She loved to color. My classroom at school is full of my childrens' designs. I have Aaron's baseball diamond, with me as the pitcher and him as the batter. I have his dinosaurs (which still are his favorite). I also have Grace's flowers, butterflies, rainbows, and trees. A lot of those pictures are ones she colored from the hospital. One in particular was the last one she drew. It's framed, and it's not coming down.

9. She wanted to be a "Silas doctor" when she grew up. We call it a vetrenerian. She called it a "Silas doctor." She loved animals, and they loved her. After she went Home, Silas knew she was gone. It took him a long time too to adjust to her absence.

10. She will always walk with me. She was here for four years, and to think of a possible forty years without her here is painfully sad, but I know where she is right now. I will get to spend an entire eternity with my little girl. I can get upset and grieve over the four short years I spent with her, but those four short years are nothing compared with the eternity that awaits me. The first and last few minutes of my day are the most difficult. In the morning after I awake, my mind wakes up and says, "hey, she's not here today." I recite a couple Scripture verses to myself, and that's how I get going in the morning. At night, right before my eyes close, I miss her again. My mind again tells me, "hey, she wasn't here today." I recite those same Scripture verses, and I fall asleep. That's what gets me through the night. However, even when it's difficult, I know Jesus Christ is standing there holding my hand and guiding me along the way. He is holding Grace right now, and He is telling me it will work out for His Kingdom. Some days, it's a struggle. Some days, I can close my eyes and relive her last day. But, I can also close my eyes and picture what that scene will be like; Jesus reaching for my hand, Grace hugging me around my knees. That's the picture I'm holding on to for life.