A week ago, I returned from my leadership forum. That morning, I shared the story of my roots. The story of where I came from and where as well as how my identity initially formed. I was a Burke from a strong line of tough Irish folks who made their way to the States in the late 40s and found each other after knowing each other in County Mayo where they grew up. My granny was a Burke by marriage, but she embraced it and each of us who were born into her line through my grampy who gave her his name. She gave up her spirit just before I arrived back in Cleveland last Friday night.
That is the legacy my granny gave us...one steeped in the unconditional love of Jesus. One saturated in selfless, sacrificial love. A love that raises 11 children while married to a drunk. A love that stands in the gap for her children whose hearts were broken by the acts of the Catholic church of their day. Broken by acts of broken people. She was the embodiment of Christ in how she loved and served us. How she faithfully followed and served anyone she encountered. During the week leading up to her death and the days following, we heard over and over from people how she had impacted their lives and how she would be missed. We related so well to that.
Today it has been a week since she was here and I miss her each day. It comes in waves. The lump in my throat, the tears brimming in my eyes, the sniffling to keep them from falling, until they spill over. I am so thankful for all the life she lived and how much of it I got to live with her. My memories go all the way back to when I was a little girl in her kitchen with her and all the way through the Wednesday before she went home to be with Jesus. I am greedy, though, and still I want more. No matter how ready I was for her to go, no matter how much I know that is where she longed to be, I wanted one more time. One more Sunday with her. Instead of having my last Sunday, I was greeted by my mom while I was in the nursery at church and told granny had fallen and I couldn't stay for the church service. When I called my uncle, he explained what had happened and that she wouldn't recover. And she didn't. Now, she is whole. She is receiving her reward and for that I am joyous. But for me, my heart mourns her loss in my here and now. Thankfully, she lives on in each of us. May we grow to be more like her as she was like Christ who called her home to Him to have her rest.
I love you, granny! I know your prayers for our lives continue to live on until the time at which God is ready to answer in His perfect timing. May we also be praying prayers for one another, calling to our Father as you did on our behalf, until every knee bows and every tongue confesses Jesus is Lord.
Me, grampy, granny - 1992
I knew she was going to die while I was away, or at least suspected she would as she was not expected to recover after her fall the previous Saturday night. I visited her one last time before I headed to Chicago on Wednesday last week. This past Wednesday, we laid her to rest. We had a mass, shared our hearts and passages from the Bible to encourage those of us left behind to know that God still has plans for us. As I finished my story about my life and where I am now during my presentation to our group of leaders, I ended with the place I live now which is in HOPE for the future God continues to lead me to and through. At her mass, my aunt read the verse I had chosen after Lenny's death knowing that granny's might not be far off, but never imagining it would be this soon.
Verse 5 is one I have hanging on my monitor at work. Verse 8 always reminds me that God knows all of me and still knew I was worth dying for. Verse 11 reminds us that He died so we could live an eternal life reconciled to Him. This is where Hope lives. By the time we got to the point where Fr. Ron was preparing the Holy Eucharist, I was in and out of my own prayers and memories and thoughts, but I caught him say, "And the night He was betrayed..." and my heart broke all over again for the love Christ has for us. We all leave Him and betray Him, but He is STILL the body broken and the blood shed, the final sacrifice...for each of us to be REMEMBERED (re-joined, re-connected) to Him. It breaks my heart to know a love like this. One so undeserved, but graciously offered for our taking.Romans 5:5-11 New International Version (NIV)
5 And hope does not put us to shame, because God’s love has been poured out into our hearts through the Holy Spirit, who has been given to us.6 You see, at just the right time, when we were still powerless, Christ died for the ungodly. 7 Very rarely will anyone die for a righteous person, though for a good person someone might possibly dare to die. 8 But God demonstrates his own love for us in this: While we were still sinners, Christ died for us.9 Since we have now been justified by his blood, how much more shall we be saved from God’s wrath through him! 10 For if, while we were God’s enemies, we were reconciled to him through the death of his Son, how much more, having been reconciled, shall we be saved through his life! 11 Not only is this so, but we also boast in God through our Lord Jesus Christ, through whom we have now received reconciliation.
That is the legacy my granny gave us...one steeped in the unconditional love of Jesus. One saturated in selfless, sacrificial love. A love that raises 11 children while married to a drunk. A love that stands in the gap for her children whose hearts were broken by the acts of the Catholic church of their day. Broken by acts of broken people. She was the embodiment of Christ in how she loved and served us. How she faithfully followed and served anyone she encountered. During the week leading up to her death and the days following, we heard over and over from people how she had impacted their lives and how she would be missed. We related so well to that.
Today it has been a week since she was here and I miss her each day. It comes in waves. The lump in my throat, the tears brimming in my eyes, the sniffling to keep them from falling, until they spill over. I am so thankful for all the life she lived and how much of it I got to live with her. My memories go all the way back to when I was a little girl in her kitchen with her and all the way through the Wednesday before she went home to be with Jesus. I am greedy, though, and still I want more. No matter how ready I was for her to go, no matter how much I know that is where she longed to be, I wanted one more time. One more Sunday with her. Instead of having my last Sunday, I was greeted by my mom while I was in the nursery at church and told granny had fallen and I couldn't stay for the church service. When I called my uncle, he explained what had happened and that she wouldn't recover. And she didn't. Now, she is whole. She is receiving her reward and for that I am joyous. But for me, my heart mourns her loss in my here and now. Thankfully, she lives on in each of us. May we grow to be more like her as she was like Christ who called her home to Him to have her rest.
I love you, granny! I know your prayers for our lives continue to live on until the time at which God is ready to answer in His perfect timing. May we also be praying prayers for one another, calling to our Father as you did on our behalf, until every knee bows and every tongue confesses Jesus is Lord.
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