Digging Deeper: Walks to Winks
1 Sarah lived 127 years; these were the years of the life of Sarah. 2 And Sarah died at Kiriath-arba (that is, Hebron) in the land of Canaan, and Abraham went in to mourn for Sarah and to weep for her.
Genesis 23:1-2 (NLT)
WALKS TO WINKS
As we reflect on the subject of emotional turmoil and grief, we have focused on Abraham and the death of his wife, Sarah. Even though none of us ever met Abraham, many of us can relate to the story through relevant personal losses we have experienced in our lifetimes.
The first time I ever remember experiencing death’s sting was when my grandmother, “Nana,” passed away in 1999. I was 12 years old, and I knew she was sick with lung cancer. I had been given limited anecdotes from my parents about how serious it was and to enjoy the time I got to spend with her.
I remember getting called up to the front office at school out of nowhere on a cold February day and feeling so perplexed with curiosity as to why I was leaving early that day. When I rounded the corner down the hallway and saw my teary-eyed father, I immediately knew, even before he told me. She was 58 years old.
I have always felt sorrow that I did not get to experience life beyond that age with her. I remember her, but I remember her through the eyes of a 12-year-old. I remember that being the only time I ever really saw my grandfather sad. He was a man who rarely wasn’t wearing a smile, thus sorrow wasn’t a common mode for him. I am grateful to say that my grandfather (“Pop Pop” to us) lived to see me get married, and he and I developed a special bond.
My family would take vacations every summer to the Outer Banks in North Carolina, with my grandfather picking a new beach house for my family and extended family to spend a week in every summer. I was an early riser, and most mornings it would be just me and him watching the sun come up over the beach in the distance. He would take a morning walk to a little general store called “Winks” every morning and grab a newspaper before everyone woke.
So, he started inviting me to go with him. It became our thing. Every vacation, I would get up, race to the living room, and wait for him to put on a pot of coffee so it would be ready by the time we got back. We would walk the beach road or sometimes in the sand until we got to Winks, where my grandfather and his infectiously boisterous personality were well known and well liked. He seemingly knew no strangers and would always manage to say something to make someone laugh.
In those early morning conversations, sometimes he would tell me about my grandmother. I would learn things about her that I didn’t know, and he would recount stories from their younger days. He even told me that she would yell “Master Chief!” to which my grandfather, who was an actual Master Chief in the Navy, knew he had messed up and was in the doghouse. We would laugh at those stories.
These conversations were joyful for me, and I think cathartic at times for him. Being present for someone and listening is sometimes the best medicine we can offer when they are working out their grief. We are sure to face adversity, and we all process that differently. We have a responsibility to be there for each other, but how? Paul simply says to “rejoice with those who rejoice, and weep with those who weep” (Romans 12:15). If we do this, we honor the grieving and Christ alike.
Lee Wilson and his wife, Deanna, have been NorthStar Church members since 2010. They are parents to Everett, Henry and Roselyn. Lee is passionate about sports (Go Braves, Go Dawgs) and has the pleasure to serve on the worship team as a bassist.