As most of you know, this past Saturday, my dear niece, Becky slipped away to live in Heaven. She suffered a head injury from a fall in her home. She was 51. I miss her terribly.
She was not only a niece, but a friend that I communicated with almost daily and shared so many wonderful talks and confidences. Yesterday at her funeral I was honored to speak for just a few minutes. The following is what I wrote to speak. As I stood in front of people, some of the writing didn't make it in - other things were added on the spot. But this is my heart, are at least part of it, over Beck. I honor and celebrate her life on this earth and rejoice over her new life in Heaven.
Becky was the first born grandchild in the Wyatt family - which made her the boss, an office she fulfilled well. There was never any doubt who was in charge. I remember at Christmas, Becky always wrote a play for the grandkids to perform for the adults. She would write it, assign roles and they would all head to the back bedroom to practice. Then on Christmas Eve night they would present it for the adults. As an adult she coordinated all our family gatherings - it was just one of her places in the family. She was the organizer, the go to girl in the family.
Like most American families, the Wyatt's are of a mixed ancestry, but mostly we are Irish. Now, Irish folks are known for being emotional: we laugh a lot but we cry a lot too. We can be loud, competitive, a little on the stubborn side. And no matter what is happening in our lives, a good laugh makes everything better. Humor is usually our buffer; with a tad of sarcasm thrown in. The downside of that is, we feel deeply and sometimes those emotions are too much for us to handle. I believe it is safe to say, Becky had her share of Irish blood.
I remember her as a happy child - usually with that look in the eye that made me wonder just what she was up to. How many of us have seen that little glint? Her friends found her loyal to the end. I'm certain many of you can attest to that. And once she loved you, it was forever.
We talked a lot about where she came from, where she was going, and often about her Maw Maw (my mother). One of the things she loved about Maw Maw was her ability to make each grandchild feel like the special one. Not only did they love her as a group, but each grandchild had their own private relationship with Maw Maw. That so impressed Becky.
Saturday at the hospital, I realized just how much like her Becky was. I stood in the hospital room and watched and listened as a steady stream of friends and family was in and out of her room. Several would lean over the bed and speak privately to her, hoping she could hear these last words of love. Then we would talk quietly in the room or the hall. That day I saw Becky had that same unique quality of making each person feel special. Each one had a relationship with Becky that was private, personal and unique. Here I thought I was the special one in her life --- and I was --- and so were each of you. Special in a private way that only the two of you understood. That was another of Becky's special gifts from God. It's called love. The kind of love God has for his children; a special fondness for each of us. Becky had the ability to love each of us right where we are; for exactly who we are. And we loved her back in that same way.
Over the past few months, Becky had her battles, but she never gave up, she never quit, she fought. Every day she started fresh and fought to overcome her weaknesses and draw closer to God. Many days she would call me early and talk about the daily devotional and how it spoke to her. I believe not only did God see her struggle, but He was in that struggle with her. Father's are like that you know.
I loved the way Becky approached God. In typical Becky style, she bared it all before Him. When she stumbled and fell she got up agian. No pretense. When she had a good day she celebrated. She was not seeking religion - she was seeking Jesus.
Like so many of you I've talked to this week, I feel robbed and cheated out of someone beautiful. I am not ready to let her go. I want her here -- with that cocky roll of the eyes and that contagious laugh of hers. But that isn't going to happen. And so, for the 100th time this week, I lift my hands before God and release her to Him....agian. And I thank Him for his love to her and to us and for His faithfulness to Becky. And each time I do that I have a bit more peace ... a bit more acceptance.
One last thing. Several of you have remarked how sad that she died alone. I do not believe she died alone, but I know Jesus was right there with her, carrying her safely over. He would never draw her, love her and then leave her alone. He promised that. Don't waste another minute dwelling on her fear at the end - in His presence there is no fear.
So, for Becky there are no more struglges, no more humiliations, no more sadness, only joy, only peace.
You won Sweetie -no matter how it looks, we know you won! You are free now.
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