Modeling Humility. Rest Well Grandma.

My Grandma Wilma Ruppert finally was able to go "home" Wednesday morning, February 20th, 2013.

 It was early in the morning that I was woken up by beeping of my phone. Someone was trying to get a hold of me. When I came to my phone, I realized it was 3 people. My heart sank for a moment and thought... oh my gosh! Who died now?? But it was Grandma. The grandma I spoke of a couple posts ago, the one who was begging to go "home", and now had gotten her wish. The Lord heard her.

She was 89 years old. That's... old. Although we expect older people to approach death, and although this was very expected soon of Grandma, it still came somewhat of a shock to me. I was hit with emotions that I wasn't prepared for. Who is?

She was such a peculiar woman, with peculiar thoughts and dreams and visions. Although her library creeped me out, it only really meant that she was searching for Truth. At the root of all her searching, I believe she found the Truth. As a fellow seeker, I understand the toils of trying to make sense of it all in a fallen world.

In all her peculiar ways, it didn't surprise me of her last wishes. To the world... er America... it may have seemed ridiculous, but to me and other family, I'm sure, who knew her well.... it seemed so appropriate. Her burial was the most humble burial I had ever seen.

She didn't want to be embalmed. So that meant that we had to bury her body within 48 hours. She also didn't want a viewing or a traditional funeral service. She simply wanted to be buried.

We arrived at the cemetery. It was cold. Snow was on the ground and the wind was bitter. My husband stayed in the van with the babies, while I took the older kids with me to the burial site. We all huddled together waiting for the Hearse to open, letting our dear Grandma's casket out. What I saw was beautiful. It was the most simple wooden pine box. My cousins and brothers made their way to the casket to help carry it. As they pulled it out, I marveled at it's simplicity. Simple handles on the sides to carry it. Flat on the top, not arched like you normally see. A simply cross engraved at it's head. They carried it across the road to her grave. We all huddled, once again, staying warm as it was stationed above it's resting place. (Yep, I totally took a picture, it was too beautiful to keep to myself. I had to share it. ) A good friend of mine worded it perfectly, which was similar to what my uncle had said to me when I mentioned it's beauty. "No frills.  No preservation.  Just a vessel to return from whence we came - the earth. "

the humble casket

My uncle said a few words, reading her favorite scriptures. He said that in her dementia, on her death bed, she still remembered and recited a whole passage of scripture, word for word. The Truth always stays with you. After that my aunt came up and presented roses. She explained that red roses were her favorite, so everyone who wished may take one. She pointed out 2 white roses. She explained they are both in memory and honor of her 2 children that had died before her. One was my dad, and the other was for Renae, an infant daughter she had lost. My aunt presented my dad's rose to my mother, and with tears she took it. Renae's rose, she presented to me because Grandma cried "with" me the same tears when we lost our Sarah. We knew the same hurt. .. and with tears, I took it.

Renae's rose

Tears came flooding from my eyes in that moment as I became overwhelmed. Memories started flooding to me of her. There were a few times where she'd open up to me about her pain in losing Renae as we were grieving Sarah. I really missed her and I began to grieve what I missed out on about her. I felt the sting of jealousy in the fact that she now was with Renae and Sarah and my dad. No more hurting, grieving, or pain. No more unsatisfied thirst. Pure joy.

All the family went to a place where we could talk about the "Grandma stories" that we had. The more I learned about her, the more I realized how much I am like her. The thirst, the depression, the depth, her introvertedness, always searching, always studying. I have known I had her humor (all the Rupperts do) and creativity, but all the darker parts of her, I hadn't known, that I'm able to relate to completely. Learning these things made me grieve her all the more.

As I've been on this journey of finding my value in Jesus, I've realized that it also entails finding who you really are in Christ. Using the gifts that were entrusted to you so uniquely. And humbly living out your life, knowing that you wouldn't be you without Him. Thank you Grandma for reminding me of that.


we are precious
our being is precious
our time is precious
we lift our voice
to the Giver of all things
we praise His name
for we are nothing
without Him
there is no Love
away from Him
He is Love
His breath comes with Love
His mercy comes from Love
His fervor for us
that brings the pain of learning
and the joy of blessings
comes from Love

Renae's rose

Although we are broken
He is Healer
He is the Maker
He is the Renewer
He is Love
away from Him
there is no Love
without Him
we are nothing
we praise His name
the Giver of all things
we lift our voice
by His definition
we are precious

it is like a wedding ring, it goes full circle.

Honors and Stitches

Most of you have seen, on facebook, that our 5 year old daughter had to get stitches. It was quite the night....

Josh, on the banjo. I, on my ukulele. We were filling the house with music of all sorts. Our offspring enjoying it with dancing through out the living room, swinging each other around, having the best time.... until big brother lets go and Eve crashes into the rocking chair. Right away, I went to Eve, holding her up into my arms, setting her on the couch to examine her. Josh asked me, "Where's it coming from?" I thought, where is what coming from? until I tilted her head up and blood was just dripping from her face. All over her clothes and the floor. Oh my ... head wounds... gotta love em.

Meema was able to come over to stay with the babies, so we could take her to the hospital. Isaiah felt so guilty, his countenance down completely, saying to everyone that he passed, "It's all my fault." We let him come with us and he said the same thing to all the doctors... poor thing. One nurse said, "It happens." Another nurse suggested he take him out and rough him up a bit for doing this. ;)

When we got to our room, Josh turned a shade of pale and had to sit down. I asked him what was wrong. He told me that his heart dropped because he was nervous they were going to put us in "that" room. What? What room? He looked at me, like I should know better. Then I realized it... and finally caught up with him... we were right across from the room that Sarah was brought to and pronounced dead. I was so consumed in Eve and supporting her that I completely didn't even think about where we were. We didn't tell the staff about it, but just tried to sort through all that to ourselves.

The Childlife specialist was great during the whole thing. Making Eve feel comfortable, giving her and Isaiah dolls to draw on and pretend that they are hurt, and then going through the motions of what to expect with the washing of the wound and the stitches. It was great. They had fun with it, and they were stealing the hearts of everyone that came in the room. They loved how protective Isaiah was of Eve.

The actual procedure went well. They had her all numbed up and after the instructional doll... she was busy playing a princess game on an IPOD during the stitching.. ignoring the doctors warnings about tugging, she was too busy picking shoes for her princess.

When that was done, it was time to leave, and when we walked outside the room, Josh made sure to point out the room to me. Within seconds, my head spun with keeping it from the kids, out of protection?, or telling them about it, out of honor? ... Honor won over. I stopped us and pointed the room out to Isaiah and Eve and said, "Look! That's the room that Sarah was in when she died." I explained other things like how people were there with us, and pointed another room out close to it where they had me sitting while we waited to be able to see her. I mapped it all out to them. It felt good and they were intrigued, taking it in, like it became more real to them, that she was, in fact, here.

Walking out of the ER, Eve exclaimed, "Well, that was fun!" I'm glad she thought so. We came home to our house, just the way we left it.... instruments on the table and music out. Josh and I looked at each other, embraced each other, and knew... things were ok.