It’s quite common for me speak with camp counselors. I have been a camp director for over thirty years now and I love hearing camp stories. So many camp stories begin with “my life was changed” and then a year is stated. For me, it’s 1967. My first year at camp. My life was changed. 

Recently, I had dinner with some former counselors and we did what we love to do, we shared camp stories. I asked them to tell me about a counselor that made an impact on their life. As each one shared, we pointed out qualities that made those counselors stand out for them. I thought of my first counselor and how I can still remember her name, see her face, as she made an impact on my life. 

After everyone left, it was time to wash the dishes. First things first, so I picked up the bottle of detergent and made my initial squeeze.  As the green liquid flowed right unto the pan one tiny bubble broke free from the stream of soap and began floating to the ceiling.  What a treat to be given this gift. I know you’re saying, “How is a tiny bubble a gift?”  I think it was God’s way of reminding me how fragile life is.

More and more, my husband and I are attending both funerals of our dear friends and weddings of their off spring. It’s a bittersweet time of life that is the natural consequence of being a senior citizen. It brings much introspection, like sitting around a table reminiscing with camp counselors.  I looked at that tiny bubble, floating away, and thought how it represents fresh, new beginnings.  Like the weddings we attend. Dreams yet to be realized as the happy couple says vows that bound them together for a lifetime. The sad reality of any wedding is those dreams may or may not happen, so it’s with a basket full of hope, but some trepidation, that we watch their bubble float away. 

The funerals, though, tell a different story. When we take our journey to heaven, our dreams and reality have already collided. Words that are spoken at a funeral depict an actual life, while the words spoken at a wedding depict possibility. With modern technology, many funerals now include photos. Each precious life is shared though words, stories, songs, and Bible verses. Many good deeds are recounted, many relationships have been affected, many happy times are shared, but their bubble now is gone, except for the memories. Life passes by very quickly, seemingly as fast as a bubble rises to the ceiling. 

Someone once said that our children never see the beginning of our life, only the end. As your grandchildren get older, they will be storing away the memories they will tell at your funeral. It’s true they won’t remember the hundreds of peanut butter sandwiches you made or the thousands of times you wiped down the kitchen counter, but they will know if you loved God and loved them with all your heart. Your life as a grandma will make an impact on your grandchildren, for now and eternity. It’s sad to picture your family sitting around a table telling “grandma stories” but it will happen. And, it will be a time of comfort to them. 

You serve an awesome God who values your life and protects it as if it’s a fragile bubble.  Don’t try to blow your bubble higher by yourself or it might end up in a direction you don’t want it to go and don’t try to hold it in your hand, it will not survive. Let God be in control as you float through the next portion of your life. Take it one day at a time and rest in His powerful hands.