About this time last Sunday my brother and I were driving into Chicago for a very impromptu trip. Our loving grandma (my stepfather's mother) and the matriarch of the family for almost 40 years had passed away after a five-month battle with declining health. This woman survived the death of her husband when she was in her early fifties, breast cancer on more than one occasion, and was the last of her siblings left. She always took care of everyone and worked hard without complaint.
I was surprised, honored, and a little terrified when I was asked to give the eulogy at her funeral on Monday. We remembered her family, her work, and her friends; however, what has stuck with me the most and I have been thinking on all week is the fact that Grandma was born, raised, and lived in the same neighborhood in Chicago for all of her 90 years. Most of the things that she accomplished and the people that she loved were in that neighborhood, too, at one time in her life. She didn't have to travel around the world to see and be thankful for all that she had around her. I am left with the overwhelming reminder that the life we live is made up of moments of faithfulness and sheer ordinariness.
And the sum of those moments is something truly beautiful.
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