Amazing Grace
In the aftermath of two national tragedies this week, the church service this Sunday focused on Grace. The church choir sang the song Amazing Grace as well.
Amazing Grace, how sweet the sound
That saved a wretch like me.
I once was lost, but now am found,
Was blind but now I see.
I know the song very well. As I sat there, I was transported back to November 27, 2001 in a Catholic church residing in a small town in NW Ohio. Before me is almost every single member of my mom’s family. To my right is a coffin containing the body of my grandmother. It is also my 21st birthday.
I have walled myself off from emotion all morning because I have a job to do; a very important job. One of my grandma’s wishes was that I would sing Amazing Grace at her funeral. She’s asked me to do this since I was a small girl. Of course at the time of such requests, I would laugh and tell her, “Grandma, you’re not going to die anytime soon.” But she did die. She was mortal. My beloved Grandma was gone.
Some history here:
I am the youngest of 14 grandchildren. I am also the only adopted member of the family. I was born on Thanksgiving Day of 1980. My parents learned shortly thereafter that I was going to be theirs. As my cousin put it this past weekend, “When your parents found out they were getting you, all emergency calls were stalled due to the amount of celebratory phone calls going in and out of their house.” I had to laugh at that. Sometimes I have to remind myself how celebrated my existence into the family was at a time that was sorely needed by many people, namely my Grandma. Her husband, my Grandpa, had been recently diagnosed with larynx cancer. It was a very scary time of surgery to remove his voice box, chemo and radiation and worry over how much it had spread. I arrived two days before Christmas in 1980 giving my grandpa something to live for. (Not my words, but theirs.)
Over the years it was somewhat evident that I was their favorite grandchild. It was no one else’s fault but simply a circumstance of timing and need. As I learned to vocalize, talk and sing, my grandpa continued to be in poor health. As early as two and something months, I would get on the phone and sing songs to them that my mom sang to me every night before bed. One song was “Amazing Grace.” I learned much later that my grandparents would be crying on the other end of the line as I sang because of the hope in those lyrics. Much needed hope.
My Grandpa died when I was 8, and over the remaining years of my Grandma’s life, she would request that song from time to time. Every time she would cry and every time she would remind me that I promised I would sing it at her funeral. Including at her 80th birthday.
Back to the Catholic church in a small town in NW Ohio standing there in front of my family. Some of them believing in God, others not so much preferring to see life and their existence on their own terms. My one shot to honor my grandmother. With much trepidation, I began to sing, but getting stronger with each line. I invited everyone to sing with me for the remaining verses. I couldn’t look at anyone because most of them were starting to cry. After the song was done, I calmly got back to the pew and then collapsed in sobs finally allowing hours of pent up emotion fall freely.
In the following weeks, I received many phone calls and notes thanking me for singing that song (and lines of “I had forgotten what a good voice you had!). I mused at the thank yous wondering why so many people had been touched. After all, it is a song that people have heard a million times. I have sung that song so many times that the words can somehow become redundant. For everyone that was sitting there that day, no matter their current situations, mistakes, sorrow, etc… that song is a reminder of universal plight of every human being that grace is available to everyone.
I then thought about my Grandma and the never-failing acceptance of all she encountered. Her house was a safe-haven for those that were outcasts or going through a rough time. No matter your age, she would crack open two beers, one for her, one for you, and say, “So talk.” She reminded our family over and over again that it was our jobs to love and be there for others and not to judge, for who are we to look at another and cast a stone? “Amazing Grace” was the perfect song for her. An example of human love and forgiveness and a woman that always looked towards the heavens to take care of everything else. Amazing Grace indeed.
Amazing Grace, how sweet the sound
That saved a wretch like me.
I once was lost, but now am found,
Was blind but now I see.
I know the song very well. As I sat there, I was transported back to November 27, 2001 in a Catholic church residing in a small town in NW Ohio. Before me is almost every single member of my mom’s family. To my right is a coffin containing the body of my grandmother. It is also my 21st birthday.
I have walled myself off from emotion all morning because I have a job to do; a very important job. One of my grandma’s wishes was that I would sing Amazing Grace at her funeral. She’s asked me to do this since I was a small girl. Of course at the time of such requests, I would laugh and tell her, “Grandma, you’re not going to die anytime soon.” But she did die. She was mortal. My beloved Grandma was gone.
Some history here:
I am the youngest of 14 grandchildren. I am also the only adopted member of the family. I was born on Thanksgiving Day of 1980. My parents learned shortly thereafter that I was going to be theirs. As my cousin put it this past weekend, “When your parents found out they were getting you, all emergency calls were stalled due to the amount of celebratory phone calls going in and out of their house.” I had to laugh at that. Sometimes I have to remind myself how celebrated my existence into the family was at a time that was sorely needed by many people, namely my Grandma. Her husband, my Grandpa, had been recently diagnosed with larynx cancer. It was a very scary time of surgery to remove his voice box, chemo and radiation and worry over how much it had spread. I arrived two days before Christmas in 1980 giving my grandpa something to live for. (Not my words, but theirs.)
Over the years it was somewhat evident that I was their favorite grandchild. It was no one else’s fault but simply a circumstance of timing and need. As I learned to vocalize, talk and sing, my grandpa continued to be in poor health. As early as two and something months, I would get on the phone and sing songs to them that my mom sang to me every night before bed. One song was “Amazing Grace.” I learned much later that my grandparents would be crying on the other end of the line as I sang because of the hope in those lyrics. Much needed hope.
My Grandpa died when I was 8, and over the remaining years of my Grandma’s life, she would request that song from time to time. Every time she would cry and every time she would remind me that I promised I would sing it at her funeral. Including at her 80th birthday.
Back to the Catholic church in a small town in NW Ohio standing there in front of my family. Some of them believing in God, others not so much preferring to see life and their existence on their own terms. My one shot to honor my grandmother. With much trepidation, I began to sing, but getting stronger with each line. I invited everyone to sing with me for the remaining verses. I couldn’t look at anyone because most of them were starting to cry. After the song was done, I calmly got back to the pew and then collapsed in sobs finally allowing hours of pent up emotion fall freely.
In the following weeks, I received many phone calls and notes thanking me for singing that song (and lines of “I had forgotten what a good voice you had!). I mused at the thank yous wondering why so many people had been touched. After all, it is a song that people have heard a million times. I have sung that song so many times that the words can somehow become redundant. For everyone that was sitting there that day, no matter their current situations, mistakes, sorrow, etc… that song is a reminder of universal plight of every human being that grace is available to everyone.
I then thought about my Grandma and the never-failing acceptance of all she encountered. Her house was a safe-haven for those that were outcasts or going through a rough time. No matter your age, she would crack open two beers, one for her, one for you, and say, “So talk.” She reminded our family over and over again that it was our jobs to love and be there for others and not to judge, for who are we to look at another and cast a stone? “Amazing Grace” was the perfect song for her. An example of human love and forgiveness and a woman that always looked towards the heavens to take care of everything else. Amazing Grace indeed.
posted by Self Therapy | 9:07 AM
1 Comments:
Very well written and very emotional post. You have a grandma to emmulate and one you learned much from. I truly hope you find the grace you need as you live out your life as well as your grandma did hers. That would, indeed, be amazing! would it not?
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