Memories

Today was the 9th year since my grandmother passed away.

It's funny how we can build our life in relationship with or contrast to those who have been a part of our lives. In memories that I have of my Nanny - most of my life has been influenced by the contrast of who she was.
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1. She was an alcoholic I remember being between 10-12 and trying to help her make into her bedroom, her breath strong with Vodka (her drink of choice) as she stumbled and fell - mostly crawling to the room. My father has memories of similar scenarios most of his childhood. While I enjoy alcoholic beverages, a beer or glass of wine, I will never buy or own Vodka nor do I order drinks that contain it. Because of her alcoholism I have decided to never have hard liqueur available in my home and refuse to have much drink available to myself. 
1. Yet she did not stay an alcoholic  My aunt and my father told her that relationships would be cut off if she didn't get help. But no progress was made. When her best friends called "Le Girls" got involved, threatening the same disconnect my Nanny entered into the Betty Ford Rehabilitation Clinic in California. From that point on she never drank again - though she certainly missed it and often bought O'Douls in the alcoholics stead. It was a drink I could enjoy with her as it was non-alcoholic, and it made me so greatly appreciate the change in her.
2. She doubted God. Growing up in a matriarchal home of San Francisco becoming a debutante in the backdrop of WWII - God was always present but rarely active. She and my grandfather loved the Episcopal Church - it was the tradition they were married into, gave their membership, attended, financially supported and would be remembered in. Yet I remember when Da Vinci Code came out. I had heard of the controversy but thought little of it; that was until my Nanny and I were in a hotel room laying in bed reading our respective books. Nanny mentioned something about doubting God, wondering if the book was true and not being certain of God. I died a bit inside at that. Having met God in a real way at the tender age of seven and being called into the ministry shortly thereafter I couldn't fathom doubting His presence - especially through a work of fiction. I made some comment on trusting God, and tried my best theological encouragement my tween mind could muster - all while tears ran down my face being hidden by the lamp between our beds. 
1. Yet in her doubting, and her wondering and wanderings I know she knew Him. Her life had not reflected His glory as it could have, nor did she have the faith I knew she could have had - but she knew Jesus. When I heard her diagnosis of cancer the third time around in almost two decades I knew it was the end of her life. I didn't know when she'd die, and honestly I think my dad and I forgot we mourned her imminent death that day we heard the news of cancer. But in the midst of it all - those last few months I did not doubt her place in heaven. I knew she'd see Jesus on the other side and He would welcome her home. I know in earthly forms it would be a bit uncomfortable and foreign to her but her eternal soul would rejoice at the home she would be in. 
3. She doubted who I was. During my tween years when many peers had boyfriends, I did not. I had had a friend ask if I was a lesbian because my intense turn off to guys. In reality it was not the lack of attraction to the opposite sex, but rather the intense pain I had felt after years of bullying and exposure to sexual perversion. Being asked your sexuality as a conservative, Christian tween in 2000 was anything but an encouragement of your identity - at least for me. My Nanny asked me the same question around the same time. At the time I was hurt and shocked but thankfully I was able to let it go, and quickly. In hindsight it honestly seems non coincidental that that question was brought up - if I had allowed others to speak into being their perspective of my identity then or ever, I would have lost myself. God protected me from carrying that burden. I still wish Nanny had never asked that, that she would have known me better. But I know she would now and I wouldn't be as afraid to say who I really was.
   
4. I am grateful for the gift of journey she gave me. Living in Colorado to her Californian location meant either I wouldn't see her or she'd have to fly me out to see her. My sister Lizy and I were very blessed to have the opportunity to fly many times in our early, early childhood (5-8) and visit my Aunt Traci and Nanny in California and other places around the West. We visited Yellowstone and other parts of Wyoming, traveled to many parts of California and other states. Nanny and I would go on an East Coast Tour (ironically during September 11th 2001). Nanny had planned on taking us to Kenya on a Safari until she got cancer the 2nd time. She and my grandfather had worked hard for their wealth, and in their 40s and 50s traveled around the world. Her house had treasures from all their visits. She had hundreds of National Geographic magazines. I was exposed to diversity and culture in her home - though abstractly rather than experientially. The stories of being in Tiananmen Square right before the protests, visiting presidents, eating dinner with Bob Hope, seeing Moscow and St. Petersburg, experiencing the African safaris. It was a dream as a child hearing of these tales. I fell in love with traveling from her. While she had stayed in the same area of the country her whole life, she traveled and experienced worlds I only could imagine. Her grandmother had been a Norwegian immigrant at the turn of the century - and married a sea captain only to find out he had a woman at every port. The familial folklore is that she was the first woman in San Francisco and perhaps California to file for divorce. I heard the stories of the Great San Francisco Fire, and felt as though I was there right in the middle of it all. Nanny could weave a tale, that honestly left you longing to hear more. As an adult I wish so much to remember those stories, to hold onto my heritage and the beauty of family. 
5. I am grateful for the gift of hospitality. This is a gift she gave me, one that I have heard a couple times and it wasn't until this week that I got "hit in the face" by its truth. While serving and overseeing an event at church, I was walking around making sure everyone was content, eyeing the atmosphere to ensure an enjoyable evening. In the midst of this I felt incredibly distant from the situation I was in, though I was physically close to many people. I felt alone in the midst of a room of friends and siblings in Christ. It was then that I was reminded of the memorial of Nanny. Many old friends and acquaintances showed up for her, and I remember doing a similar thing like Friday night. I walked around, greeting, ensuring others were okay, consoling friends, smiling, making sure everything looked and felt right. I had spoken during the service and received many compliments afterwards. Those words went right through me, and while I appreciated them it left little impact. I wanted to make sure everyone was okay, it wasn't about me. It that celebration and memorial I felt as though I was making my Nanny proud in living up to the Bliss name of excellence. It was certainly not my motivation but I felt that as I stood back looking around the room. Nine years later I found myself doing the same thing - attempting to make another person proud and having the situation live up to their name and reputation. I went back to the nursery and teared up at the memory of my Nanny. I told Phil that perhaps my hospitably gift was just working out of a wound and that maybe now it'd be fixed and I could move on. Instead of agreeing with me, he asked maybe this was my calling. That this gift of shepherding a community with specific hospitality intentions was not just genetic mishap, or response out of loss but a gift and calling God had, and would continue to form in me. 
1. I never went to a party that Nanny hosted. But I heard they were amazing. She was a charming woman, who was able to take care of the details while seeing to the relational needs of her guests. While my grandfather had been alive they were known to be the life of the party - and certainly the hosts of the party. I have been called the life of the party (though certainly not in the same fun way my sisters and brother are). I have been much too serious most of my life to allow fun, but I would hope I bring life like my Nanny did.
2. I want to bring life to the dead and dying. I want to offer light to a darkened world. I have prayed over and over that God would make me endlessly thirsty for His waters so I would overflow in order for the world to taste and see that the Lord is good. I have a philosophy and theology of intentional community, and I could weave you a tale of why I believe that will save people. Stories can often bring one to the door of salvation, where all you are is a knock away from meeting your Savior. I want to facilitate that kind of hospitable community. My dad always said I was like my Nanny in that way, but I never heard him. I never wanted to, but now I do. I am grateful for the stories of those who have gone before me - whether they understood who I was or not. Their stories, their relationships fed into me life that pushed me to the Truth and the Life. There is so many things I wish I could apologize to my Nanny for, so many things I wish I could demand from her now, there are many wishes but I am learning to be ever so grateful for the gifts I received from her. 

I have prayed for a certain healing on and off for the last 3 years, ever since my wonderful professor Dr. Daniela Augustine mentioned it in our Coffee, Cake and Theology meeting. It is the idea of having our memories redeemed. If the God of the universe has healed our bodies, saved our souls, and brought us into new covenant with Him, He can certainly help our minds be made new. For many of us this means make right the memories we have. He does not change the experiences we had, but rather offers us the perspective of glory throughout those experiences. Rather than only seeing the darkness we can begin to see the light threaded throughout our life. I look forward to walking more fully into that healing, my fractured memories need it. But I am grateful that I can see a glimpse of that now and want to thank the Lord for letting it begin with the wonderful grandmother I had. I greatly appreciate how my Heavenly Father has weaved through this last week (which saw the birthday and death of my Nanny) circumstances to help me see her impact on my life and His desires for me. It is healing thought indeed to see God's intentional love in our daily life. 

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Jesus Lord of Heaven
I do not deserve
The grace that You have given
And the promise of Your Word
Lord I stand in wonder
Of the sacrifice You made
With mercy beyond measure
My debt You freely paid

Your love is deeper than any ocean
Higher than the heavens
Reaches beyond the stars in the sky

Jesus, Your love has no bounds
Jesus, Your love has no bounds

Your love is deep, Your love is wide
Your love is great, Your love is high
Your love is all we ever need
Your love is all we ever need