Daughter of Encouragement

Every Sunday morning when I walk into church, I look to the right-hand side of the sanctuary to see if she’s sitting there. Some days she makes it to church, and some days she’s unable to. But more often than not, I see her there, 89 years old, smiling in her velvet tops with her sparkling costume jewelry from days gone by. She has a propensity to wear pink, and that’s always how I picture her, covered from head to toe in an array of rosy shades, smiling in her caring way, thrilled to see me walk in the way only a mother or grandmother could be thrilled. Only she isn’t my grandmother, at least not by biology. But by heart, she may as well be my flesh and blood, darling woman, sitting in her place, always humbly submitting herself to God’s plan for the day. Always loving my family and me with a godly mother’s love.

Today I walked in and could tell that she had something to say. I made my way over to her pew, and she was already holding out an envelope. I knew that it was a letter. She has a wonderful way of sending us words when we most need them, and today was no exception. She told me that she got up early today and had her time with the Lord, and she felt him impressing this upon her: Chad and Melissa need encouragement. So she sat in her living room chair in the early morning light and penned this note.

I thanked her, knowing about what the note would say. You see, for eleven years she has told us again and again what we mean to her, what she sees God doing in the church and in our lives, and I never, ever tire of hearing and reading these blessings that she pronounces. I know that every interaction with her will be pure grace, complete love, earnest praise, and encouragement. If Barnabas was the Son of Encouragement, then she is its daughter. I know she longs to be an encourager because she has told me so, but this is not something she strives to do: it’s just something she is, through the power of the Holy Spirit.

I put the envelope in my bag and sat down for the church service. It wasn’t until much later in the afternoon that I remembered her words of love were waiting for me there, so unassuming on that undersized stationery, written in a cursive that has been shaken by age and arthritis. As I sat at my kitchen table this evening, struggling to settle into the work I was supposed to be doing, I suddenly thought of the love note I had yet to open, and I dug through my bag to find it. Predictably, she had poured her heart onto the page. Reading her blessing was like a Sabbath. I always find rest in her words, and I remember that Jesus gave us each other for this very thing–so that we could put Him on display through comfort, peace, kindness, and encouragement. It’s like lying down for a nap when you’re a child and you can’t think of a single thing to worry about. Her words wound me up in comfort, and their effect stayed with me.

How can it be that God is so gracious to give us grandmothers like these who adopt us into their hearts? Grandmothers who soothe us with their precious words, who will pour out their blessings on children who technically belong to someone else? Only he could design something so beautiful as the church, a place where family ties are wrapped up in who he is, not who was born to whom. His gracious love never ceases to amaze me, because he lavishes it on us in so many ways, not the least of which is sweet, gentle words from a Daughter of Encouragement.

She has told me for many years that God will soon be calling her home. But there she sits on Sunday mornings, just waiting with anticipation to pour out her love on me and many others. I think I know why God keeps her here. He has made her an instrument of his peace, and he must find so much joy in watching her dole out his blessings on all of us.

Someday when he does call her home, I know that I will continue to find rest in the words that she spoke over me. Words of love. Words of truth. Words of gospel goodness. And I will go to eternity one day praising him all the more because of the ways that he ministered to me through my dear friend, my grandmother by heart, my personal cheerleader, my fellow sojourner who showed me the most loving way to walk this narrow road. I love her. And God loves me through her. Praise be to God.