Granddaughters

This evening at my hospital, a grandmother died. She had lived a full life, 89 years of careers, marriage, family, friends...her death was sad but not tragic. Her young granddaughter was there, perhaps 8 or 9 years old. She used to go see 3-D tween movies with her grandmother, like The Adventures of Shark Boy and Lava Girl. Her grandmother loved every minute of it.

There are times when I am at a loss for words in a room where there's been a death. I put on a face that is hopefully comforting, expressing my empathy, and not too bright or too dim. I am used to sadness. However, the presence of this little girl changed the tone of the room. While there was sadness, her presence was also a reminder of life continuing through the generations. This beloved woman had died, but a reflection of her grace, her humor, her very essence sat cross-legged in a reclining chair, ready for whatever was next.

Half expecting to be without words again, I was surprised to find that I knew exactly what to do for this little girl. A few Cheetah Girl and Hannah Montana references later, an offer of markers to draw on the white board in the room, and a quick Google search yielded word-finds and mazes for a girl who was a little bored waiting for the adults to get their act together.

Strange how easy it is to slip back into something I know, something I did every day working at the Children's Museum and with the all the different kids in my life. It feels like pulling on a worn-out, comfortable t-shirt. Every experience we have becomes a puzzle piece of a much larger image. As be begin to see how the pieces fit together, we have a greater appreciation for the whole.

Moreover, it is not always the "logical" or most financially responsible decisions that make the most sense. There's no way I could have known that doing art projects with kids could help me be a minister to a grieving family. Sometimes we just have to go with our gut, and let the rest fall into place. Our hopes and dreams, our striving and passions, they are our moral compass.