Grams.

If you think of it, please pray for my Grandmother, Georgia Saylor Dugan. My Mom called and told me that my Grams has been doing and saying some bizarre things lately. The doctors detected some deterioration in her brain and gave her medicine to cure the early signs of dementia. She lives with my parents and has been asking lately where my Grandfather is and when he'll be home (he died when I was 12), and she talks about driving to the family farm and how she saw my Grandfather and her parents. My Grams hasn't driven in 3 years, the farm is 3 hours away, and her parents also died when I was a little girl.

It is difficult for my parents to navigate these waters. Even more, it is heartbreaking to hear this news and I am 6 hours from home. My Grams and I have been incredibly close since I can remember. She babysat me all the time while my parents worked. I spent almost every afternoon of my childhood in her and my Grandfather's house. We cooked together, picked raspberries in the back yard, she taught me songs on the piano, and I had to endure her horrible cooking (love you, Grams)! What makes it so incredibly difficult for me to hear this news is that not only is my Grams one of the strongest, most opinionated, most intelligent women I've ever met (she is what you'd call an old-school feminist), I would not be where I am without her financial and moral support. She funded my private school education in highschool, she funded my time at Taylor University, she bought my first car, and the financial support she has offered me during my time at Gordon-Conwell has been overwhelming. After my Dad pays all her bills, she apparently says "please send whatever is left over to Kait." Don't worry, my Dad doesn't, but just the concern on her part is a constant reminder of God's provision in my life. And I can't even begin to describe how much this woman prays for me. She prays for me everyday of my life. She has told me countless times that she prays everyday that I'll find and follow God's will for my life.

Hearing about her growing older and facing dementia makes me cry instantly. It is the heartbreaking and tangible reminder that the fall is evident in our lives. I long for the days when Grams, Grandfather, me and the entire family will be reunited in resurrected bodies. But until then, I'll keep calling her and she'll keep reminding me of the Lord's goodness. The Spirit doesn't leave her even now.

I love you, Grams.


[Uncle Paul, Grandfather, Grams, and Dad]