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.