When my brother and I were little and we heard Mom and Dad were going to Europe, we were ecstatic because Aunt Bernice was coming out from East Rochester to take care of us.
She was Swedish and as sweet as a Swedish candy fish. She made Swedish meatballs and taught us how to say smooooooorgausbooooord, which I’m fairly certain I’m better at eating than pronouncing even today.
Last night, this Christian lady jumped up into Heaven, and a little piece of my heart goes with her. (Unfortunately, the majority of my heart is still here in the midst of struggles.)
I’m glad we made the effort to see her summer before last. I hadn’t been “Back” East in about 50 kabillion years. Dianna and the kids had never met that side of the family.
Many years before, my mom drove to California like so many, on an impulse, seeking a dream. She starting teaching waltz with some dance shop and eventually found my dad, who didn’t dance. Dad was a consummate engineer, so dancing was not his thing. They went to a nifty little Methodist church, where I grew up bored and rebellious. When I found out at age 12 outside of the Methodist church that Jesus wanted to enter my heart, I was understandably miffed that no one had taken the time to explain this to me before inside the church. (What did they preach there anyway? I have vague recollections that sermons were about being good people. I distinctly remember one sermon application was to NOT cut your fingernails in church and dust them off onto the floor. I don’t know why this one stuck with me all these years.)
Mom got radically saved and started serving as a volunteer chaplain in the Sylmar juvenile hall facility, which I believe is still the biggest in the nation. I became a Christian and went off to college. After, I shipped out to the mission field. After almost 16 years, we were forced back when we got swept up in the growing hurricane of drug-traffic-whipped crime in Guatemala.
The preaching switch has been turned off for four years now, and I’m wondering why. Maybe part of the reason was to see Aunt Bernice. Because God has taken the blindfold off our eyes, Christians know that death is but a door to our final destination.
It is a time of family gathering. scattered across the nation it is when my siblings and I gather! Yes it will be one heck of a family reunion in heaven, I’ll be asking Grandma again, “Now who is that?” 47 cousins on my dad’s side some with children my age, and an uncle a year older than my older sister it was chaos at the Chehalis, WA City park. Wonderful chaos
love that: “wonderful chaos”
Even with anticipating the reunion ahead, partings can be painful. Praise God that the Holy Spirit is the Comforter!
My deepest sympathies for you all. Your aunt sounds like a wonderful lady. It is a blessing in a way that she will see her Savoir face to face. What a thrill that must be! Prayers of peace and happiness to all of your family.
Thank you so much. Unfortunately, I probably won’t be able to fly out to the funeral. I will have to savor the memories.
So sorry you may not be able to go. I am sure she would understand. Have a good Thanksgiving.
So sorry ‘Aunt Bernice’ has left us all…I think anyone who might have known her would have been blessed by her from the story about your family. Wouldn’t it be great if we all were loved as much? Thanks for such a touching story! 🙂
Yes, she was a blessing!
Thank you sharing a great story!
I’m sorry for your lost. Our dear family members we loved and loved us stay with us forever,
Thanks John! Blessings!
My sympathies. A heart felt post. I’m praying for your family–I am grateful to hear she’s with the Lord!