No More Pain

I was painting my kitchen on Friday and got a call from my mom. She was crying.
“Grandma Weber had a stroke, they think. They found her this morning when they went to pick her up for church.” She went every morning to the rosary service. Her ten children surrounded her and prayed with the priest in the same hospital their father died in 24 years earlier. She was not responsive. My grandmother passed away that afternoon at about 3:40. This was the first time I ever heard my dad cry. The funeral was today in Melrose, Minnesota.

I loved my grandma. Her name was Martha, and she was the best role model I’d ever had. I was devastated that she was no longer with us, but so happy that she had “no more pain”. My grandma had lung problems and carried around an oxygen tank with her wherever she went. She also had arthritis. She always did handmade cards for everyone’s birthday. I still have all mine. She had this little giggle and little wrinkles on the sides of her eyes when she smiled. She could brighten any room. She said “ack” a lot, along with a little roll of the eyes and shake of the head. You’d have to with 10 children, wouldn’t you?

I asked her once what her favorite memory was and she said, “Oh, I don’t know. I guess when I had my kids. That was nice.”. She was great with kids. We went out to eat once with Olivia and Darin to Dairy Queen (she loved getting out), and was telling them a hundred things they could do with their kid’s meal bags. She had a creative mind – could make something out of nothing. And then make that something into a game.

Her husband, Anthony (Tony), passed away 2-3 months before I was born. I was the first grandchild he missed out on meeting. Tiffany was the first one Grandma missed out on metting. 24 whole years without her husband, and she thought about him every day. She always said he left her too soon. I didn’t get the chance to see her much because we lived 6 hours away. So I was on my way to Minnesota on Saturday night to be with my dad, and I put a CD in. One song talked about dreaming of heaven – and it went something like this:
Deep enough to dream in brilliant colors I have never seen.
Deep enough to join a billion people for a wedding feast.
Deep enough to reach out and touch the face of the one who made me.
All the love I feel and all the peace, do I ever have to wake up?

And I get to thinking about the colors. We really only see variations of 3 colors. Red. Blue. Yellow. 3. How many more colors has God made that we’ve never even imagined??? And I got to thinking that my grandma must be in a state of absolute joy! Imagine for her to be able to take a deep breath in without it hurting anymore. She can crochet and make crafts easily. She can walk around without carrying oxygen with her – even run or skip without pain! She can touch the Lord’s face and ask Him any question. She can feel His arms wrapped around her. She can see her husband after so long.

It was a light funeral. We all knew she was finally home. Every grandchild had a responsibility at the funeral – paul bearers – one from each family. Bringing gifts. Readings. My sister, cousin, and I sang a song entitled “No More Pain”. It was beautiful.

She sits by the window with wandering eyes.
She has a song in her heart and a golden disguise.
Her body is torn because age doesn’t heal.
She’s not letting on about the pain that she feels.
But she knows in her soul that it won’t be too long
‘Til Jesus comes back to carry her home.

When there will be No More Pain, no more sorrow.
No more waiting for illusive tomorrows.
There will be no more pain, no more dying.
No more striving or strain. No more pain.

My mind’s eye remembers the trouble I’ve seen.
All I have been through, and how I long to be free.
But I learn by her patience that I need her resolve.
To wait for the opening of eternity’s halls.
And I know that in time we will stand side by side
When Jesus comes back receiving His bride.

When there will be No More Pain, no more sorrow.
No more waiting for illusive tomorrows.
There will be no more pain, no more dying.
No more striving or strain. No more pain.
All I could say at first when we were at visitation was “good for you, Grandma. I’ll see you soon.” with a hurting smile on my face. I can’t imagine the joy she feels at this very moment. Good for her, finally making it home.