For most of my life, my Grandma was undoubtedly my very best friend. When I was a little girl, I used to love to spend the night at grandma and grandpa’s farm. Grandma would wake up early and make us breakfast. Our favorite was French toast but we didn’t know it was properly called French toast until we were much older. We called it the name by brother had given it, “dip dip toast” because Grandma would dip it in a mixture of egg, sugar, and cinnamon. I loved to ride my Grandma’s school bus to Coffman early in the morning and knew every child and bus driver by name. Going to Pine Log with Grandma and Grandpa was especially wonderful because the congregation at Pine Log always asked me to sing on the microphone. I remember a Southern Gospel singing when I sat on Grandma’s lap and she taught me to “keep time” to the music. 

She always took me to the creek and let me catch crawdads. As girly as I was as a child, my one “tom boy” gift was catching critters and I loved that Grandma would let me put lightning bugs in a mason jar or crawdads in a bucket. I vividly remember one day that Grandma took me to the part of the yard where the concrete jets out from the basement and showed me that there were earth worms in the leaves. We dug our own earth worms to go fishing that day, but what I remember most is that Grandma told me, “I read in a magazine the other day that this is called ‘making memories’. That’s what we’re doing. Making memories.” It turns out that she was right about that. We were indeed making memories.

She rededicated her life to Jesus when I was in the first grade and I clearly remember her baptism. I think I remember it so well because it was a year after I had been baptized and I thought it was so interesting that a grown up was getting baptized but my grandma’s heart was changed when she grew closer to Jesus. For the remainder of her life, she was the sweet Grandma that we all knew her to be. She became very devoted to praying and reading her Bible. She taught me to read my Bible before bed and would sit at the foot of the guest room bed in the middle bedroom before I fell asleep, tending my sunburns with vinegar and reading the Bible to me.

When I was in middle school, my family moved to town and I lived close to enough to walk home. I walked myself home every day and then called my Grandma at LouDon Fashions, a number I knew by heart. Lucille was so sweet to let me talk to my grandma every day and would say, “Hold on, honey. Your grandma’s right here. Ruth, it’s Courtney.” and I would proceed to tell my grandma whatever it is that a fourteen year old girl has to talk about from her day. 

I loved taking trips with my grandma because we always caught the giggles if I kept her up late enough. She was so reserved but I’ve always had quite the silly streak and Grandma would catch my giggles on a trip. I could make her laugh until she would cover her mouth to hide her amusement and that was my favorite. We always shared a bed and we would laugh about everything. She had to tell me over and over, “We better go to sleep. Don’t you think?” 

When I was in college, I was given an assignment from my “spiritual formation class” at my Christian university to write about my greatest spiritual influence. Now, I’m blessed to have been raised in Christian home and picking my greatest spiritual influence was not an easy task. In the end, I decided it was my grandma and interviewed her about her own walk with Jesus. I don’t specifically remember the final question but I do very clearly remember her answer. She said that she wanted each of her children and grandchildren to know Jesus and to follow Him. 

Grandma was always very honest with me and as many jobs and hobbies she had, she always felt I had taken on one too many. She was often rather alarmed when I’d take on a new adventure. I dreaded telling her that I was doing something new because I do have a tendency to spread myself a bit thin, figuratively speaking. On a good day, she would say, “Hmmmm,” and I knew it meant I was in the dog house but there were many times that she would say, “Now, how do you think you’re going to have time for that?” but what meant the most to me was that the conversation always ended with, “Well, if you get in a bind, call me and maybe Bailey and I can come help you with the kids.”  The five years that I was a stay at home mom to my boys and lived in Desloge were my fondest years with my grandma. She would stop by when she was “in town,” or call me early in the morning and ask if she could come for a visit that day. Likewise, I took my three older boys to the farm so often that our oldest two boys believed they were farmers which brought so much joy to Grandma and Grandpa. One year, my boys and I decided we wanted to garden in our backyard. So, grandpa sent grandma to our house with multiple 5 gallon buckets of “good dirt” and said, “If that girl wants to have a garden, she’s going to have a garden,” so grandma taught me how to measure out rows and we had more zucchini than we knew what to do with. The whole neighborhood was eating our zucchini and corn because of Grandma’s green thumb. 

One of my very favorite memories was during Covid when she went with all of the Barron/Stanford crew to the pumpkin patch. Grandma walked with a cane by that point so I held her by one arm as we made our way to the wagon. Well, the wagon ride to the pumpkin patch was the bumpiest wagon ride I’ve ever experienced in all of my pumpkin patch years. Grandma was getting jostled around so much and I kept trying to hold her steady and we got so tickled because here she was, walking with a cane and I’d tried so hard to gently get her into this wagon for the wagon ride to be complete mayhem. We laughed and laughed as I tried to hold her in place with one arm and she bounced off the seat and I kept saying, “Grandma! Are you ok?” because the wagon was throwing me from side to side, as well. She laughed uncontrollably and kept saying, “I’m ok! I’m ok!” She told us later, “That was the most fun I’ve had in a long time!” 

I could tell more stories, of course but we would be here all day. You’ll be glad to know that I‘ve decided to keep this moving along and wrap it up. I made a quick trip to see my grandma last week and when I said goodbye to her, I knew it was the last time. The hardest part of growing up is saying goodbye to the people who have been the staples of your own childhood and the very foundation your life story. I have now done that very thing three times in my life and it takes the peace and strength of Jesus to walk away from your grandparent for the last time. I couldn’t do it without the promise of Heaven.  The morning after she passed away, I had to go into work to proctor the MAP test and as I walked around a fourth grade classroom, I looked out the window at a storm rolling in and clearly heard the lyrics of, “When We All Get to Heaven,” in my heart. I could imagine my grandma standing beside me in Pine Log singing, “When we all see Jesus, we’ll sing and shout the victory.”

My grandma hasn’t been well for a while and I truly believed I was prepared for this. I’ve learned over the past week that I was sorely wrong. It seems that I wasn’t as emotionally prepared as I thought I might be, but knowing that my Grandma is worshipping Jesus face to face and singing in His heavenly choir has given me a peace that is greater than my grief. She has no more pain or sickness. She left those things behind. I’ll never walk in her kitchen again on Christmas Day to see her finishing up the meal and that hurt has been with me for quite a few years, actually but I will be with her in Heaven which is far better than this earth. Heaven is better and I praise God that she is with Him. 2 Timothy 4:7-9 says, “I have fought the good fight, I have finished the race, I have kept the faith. And now the prize awaits me—the crown of righteousness, which the Lord, the righteous Judge, will give me on the day of his return. And the prize is not just for me but for all who eagerly look forward to his appearing.” Grandma’s life had ups and downs but she did it. She made it to Heaven. And I can go forward with joy in my heart knowing that she is with my Savior, the one from the Bible she read at the foot of my bed in the middle bedroom all those years ago.

Salvation isn’t for those of us who have lived perfect lives, but is a free gift to everyone who confesses with their mouth that Jesus is Lord and believes in their heart that God has raised Him from the dead. I have confidence in this blessed assurance. All my hope is in Jesus. My grandma made it to her eternal home.