Dear Grandma

 Dear Grandma,

I don't know why you are especially on my mind today. It's not a special day in the timeline that was your life. But as I sit and think of my history, my journey of faith, my exploration of who God is, I think of you. And so I write to you, as I have written several times since you left this earth. 

You live in my body in a real and tangible way. My height is your height. My build is your build. When I consider what is healthy and unhealthy for me, I think about you. Even as my body has changed and morphed through my transition, you are still my guide. 

Yours was the faith that led to my own. You taught my mother, who taught me. You helped us both explore who God is and how we relate to the one who formed us. You were the one who asked the big questions, whose heart held a strong assurance of the Divine in the midst of chaos. Certainly your faith journey was just as imperfect, just as flawed as any, but you held the course and became a matriarch in the house of the Lord. 

You were also the person who taught me about death. You were the first person I saw enter the great unknown. Your last breaths still echo in my memory and my soul. I saw you exit this life and I still speak to you as one of the faithful around God's throne. 

You are the reason I finished my undergrad at Nebraska Wesleyan. I saw you in those hallowed halls. On the days when I had more questions than answers, when I felt pressure, when I was uncertain, I drove past your former home, past the church building where you shared your song with the Lord and gave your all for the faith formation of others. I stopped at your final resting place. I shared my questions with you. I shared my heart with you. As I took on my new name, as I began the process of coming out, I asked you what you thought. I prayed that you would not reject me, and I am assured now that you do not. 

My ordination came with a memory of you. I wondered what it would have been like for you to have been there, what joy you would have felt for me. I'm sure you did feel joy. Today, like many Sundays since that day, I led the Eucharistic prayer. And as I joined the voices of angels and archangels and all the company of heaven, I joined you in singing, "Holy, holy, holy" to the Lord God of Hosts. 

Grandma, you helped me see God. You helped me experience God, both directly and indirectly. 

Today I considered the question of "Who am I?" and I was flooded once again with gratitude for you. I am your grandchild. I carry you in my body. I carry you in my song. I am who I am because you were who you were. 

Thank you, Grandma, for your love and your witness. 

Yours forever, 

Zeb