Grandma Pat and the wide welcome of Jesus

The Mellema family gathered this weekend to celebrate the life of Matt’s Grandma Pat. She loved me as one of her grandkids for 12 years (“Oh, I don’t bother with that ‘in-law’ nonsense, you’re just my granddaughter,” she loved to tell me), but you really only need to know her for a few minutes to know you’ve never met a person quite like her. She is a one-of-a-kind mix of unconditional love and bottomless orneriness.

When Grandma was placed on hospice care two months ago, her very well-meaning nurses told her they were concerned that she “wasn’t taking this seriously enough”—“this,” of course, being her impending death. 

She would just wave her hand and say with a big grin, “Oh, I know where I’m going. I’m not afraid, and I might as well have some fun while I’m still here.”

In her nurses’ defense, where they were used to seeing hospice patients who just wanted to lie down and rest after receiving another round of medication, Grandma Pat would use the time between doses to take her electric wheelchair on a joy ride at full speed around the parking lot, greet whoever was next in her revolving door of visitors with an enthusiasm that made you feel like there was no one on earth she was more eager to see that day than you, or play bingo with the other residents, always choosing a seat next to someone who seemed discouraged or lonely.

Where her nurses were used to families that gathered in quiet conversation around a patient’s bedside and urged them to observe their afternoon naps, they instead saw Grandma Pat roping her adult grandkids into playing pranks on their parents, leading a line of her great-grandchildren in loud, sugar-fueled procession through the halls and down the sidewalk like the Pied Piper, or playing Hearts with family late into the evening. She’d complain about her cards in every hand, but always won the game, of course.

These same nurses wept when it became clear that she was living her final hours before she saw Jesus face to face, and lingered in the room each time they’d come to check her vitals and do what they could to keep her comfortable. The way she touched the lives of those caring for her will come as no surprise to anyone who knew her. God’s love and the fullness of his life shone so brightly in her, and it made people want to be near her.

Even in her last weeks, Grandma was still being Grandma:

The same lady who insisted on having a living memorial three years ago because she didn’t want to miss out on the fun our family has when we’re together, then couldn’t keep herself from heckling everyone during her eulogies. 

The one who shared the gospel with people who had dialed the wrong number.

The one who had a place for anyone at her table.

The one who took herself lightly, but took loving others seriously.

The one who always had her own alternate version of every “Grandma Pat story” ever told (and anyone who has ever met her has one).

To know her was to love her and to catch a glimpse of the warm, wide welcome of Jesus. Her confidence in God’s love for her not only made her unafraid to die, but it made her unafraid to truly live, to receive his love and generously and unconditionally offer it to others, and to find and enjoy the goodness in every day—even the hard ones—as an act of worship. 

So in the New Creation, if you happen upon a friendly woman with a thick Iowa accent and a mischievous twinkle in her eye who offers an invitation to play Hearts that you feel powerless to say no to, and if she then proceeds to grumble and raise her hands in incredulity over the hopelessness of her hand, *do not believe her.* 

I repeat—she is playing you like a fiddle.

She is about to shoot the moon and land you and the other two players with 26 points apiece before you know what hit you. Better to just help yourself to the candy dish she’ll surely have in the middle of the card table and take joy in the fact that you will walk away from this game with a hug, a friend for a eternity, and your very own “Grandma Pat story,” the details of which she will deny vehemently.

But don’t worry, we Mellemas and every life she touched with her love and lightheartedness will believe you.