Age-old wisdom

Last week I had a telephone call that changed my life. Ever wondered what it would be like to have a telephone conversation with God? Well, this was a bit like that. Jesus in particular. It felt like I was having a telephone conversation with Jesus.

My Granny turned 92 on Wednesday, the 19th day of August this year. I had put a reminder on my calendar to call her but then ran out of time as I rushed between work and other commitments. By the time I got home that evening it was too late to call so I decided to do so the next day. Life at 30 can be very rushed. A few days went past, possibly more than a week. Finally I called her last week, just as I got into bed for an early evening.

Every year I speak to my Gran over the phone – on my birthday, on her birthday and then maybe a few times in between. In actual fact, we prefer writing each other. It started when I was a little girl; my Gran used to work as a secretary for my Dad and I used to sit at her typewriter (ha, an ancient one at that), typing out sincere heartfelt letters to every person I’ve ever met, including her while she sat on the other side of the room. (Funny, I’ve forgotten that I’ve always loved writing.)

Anyway, whenever we speak over the phone, it’s normally quite short and we simply say the necessary. Sincerely and with love of course, but it’s normally a 2 minute conversation to say love you, bless you, have-a-great-year and come-visit-soon. Last week though, was different... It was beautiful. Really humblingly beautiful. I had planned to phone her and apologise for the late birthday wishes and do the usual love-you, bless-you ritual; but somehow, the conversation took a different form. We were laughing about things, crying about things, and just loving each other’s fellowship. We ended up talking for a quite a long time, not wanting to say goodbye.

We spoke about her baptism earlier this year – long story! She decided to get baptised, at 91 years of age (!) because she only wants what Jesus asks of her. Tears ran down my face as I realised how precious this daughter is to the Father that at such a great age, she would humble herself and reach out to her Heavenly Father, her best friend. I was so blown away by her hunger and thirst for Jesus and how pure and beautiful her longing is for Him. It occurred to me how transparent she is and how you could hardly see anything of her, and when you speak to her, you experience pureness; you experience Jesus.

I asked her to tell me, as an elder, in her 92 years in this world, what could she tell her 30-year old granddaughter was the most valuable lesson that she had learned? She laughed and admitted that she had learned many, many lessons in her years; but perhaps a noteworthy one was that, when she was younger, she thought she knew so much, that she was quite wise and mature even for her age; but when she looked at God, she felt very, very small; she realised that her life was but a shadow and she knew nothing. She told me that in everything life throws at you, God knows best – His way is so good. He is so good. He is a good God. That I can depend on that with everything in me.

Eventually we said goodbye and extended our love. I was so overwhelmed with the love of Christ, I simply started worshipping Him, with singing and tears. That because of Him my grandmother is the most beautiful person I have ever met, the most humble and the most sincere. If ever I had a role model, she is it. Always kind, always forgiving – a quiet and gentle spirit; a humility that softens the hardest heart.

I want to honour my Ouma today. Not just today. I want to honour her everyday. As people, in our humanness, it takes something special to remain humble despite such a magnitude of wisdom. I believe my Ouma is a walking Jesus today. I know that her inheritance is of eternal value.

Truly, I say to you, in the new world, when the Son of Man will sit on his glorious throne, you who have followed me will also sit on twelve thrones, judging the twelve tribes of Israel... But many who are first will be last, and the last first. Matthew 19:28-30