Dickerson Update 01/01/2007

Both of Laura's grandmothers passed away in December and this newsletter
is dedicated to them.


IN MEMORY OF NANA
1912- Dec 21, 2006
(Edna Turner)

Nana, I miss you.

I remember being about 8, combing your long hair. I loved to comb your
hair. I still remember you teaching me to start at the ends and work your
way up. I’ve even taught Zack the same thing for his hair. (Drew’s hair is
too short!)

I remember you playing with us at the hotel, pretending you were irritated
at Larry peaking through the curtains while we were all in bed and you
pushing him back down…I laughed SO much. He’d keep getting up, you’d keep
pushing him down, and I’d keep laughing!

Even Drew was smiling thinking about how you’d play board games with him.
He’d move his piece in the wrong way and you’d say, “You can’t do that!”
and then he said you’d give a little smile. He thought that was really
funny. Zack, too, loved playing board games with you. You seemed to be the
only one in the family who had enough energy for Zack! You were always
ready to play if he asked. Zack loved that. Oh, and the caramels in your
room. They were like a hidden treasure for Zack and Drew.

I remember coming to visit and we’d sit at the kitchen table and talk and
talk…about nothing, about everything…it was so nice. Sometimes we’d share
a cup of coffee. You seemed always to have time for me.

I loved how you taught me that once you get to a certain age you’re
allowed to say whatever you want to say – I can’t wait ‘til I get to that
age! But you forgot to tell me at what age that kind freedom comes! I
admire your boldness to speak. I admire your courage. I still pray for
that kind of courage in my life.

I remember how you said, “This is my lucky year!” I asked what you meant
by that. You said, “This is the year I go,” and you pointed toward heaven.
I asked if that was your idea or God’s and you smiled wryly and said,
“Mine.” I laughed. There was that boldness again. You were so ready to go,
so ready to continue life on the other side with Christ Jesus…Lord, may I
also be that ready.

Thursday night here in Kenya, December 21st, I was feeling lonely and
down. (I didn’t know you had died.) I asked God that night to give me a
dream that would be comforting and just plain nice. I dreamt of you. We
weren’t doing anything but talking…talking about nothing and everything.
It was so nice.

See you later, Nana.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


IN MEMORY OF "MONGA"
1918 – Dec 31, 2006
(Mary Lee Whittington)


Monga, I’m glad you’re free now. No more scary hallucinations; no more
falling; no more hospital visits. You now are free from the bondage of
your body and mind on earth; now you have True Freedom, freedom to worship
Jesus Christ forever and ever. Now is when life really begins!

I think, emotionally, I had begun to say goodbye a while ago. I remember
visiting you in the assisted living home right before we left for Kenya. I
was actually a little scared – would you remember that we were going?
Would you be ok with that? But you introduced Don and I to your
hairdresser and told her proudly that we were missionaries going to Kenya.
Whew. You were definitely ok.

You had so much love to give and were not afraid or embarrassed to give
it. You’d hug with big hugs and plant a kiss on my cheek. When I was
little, you’d cry so much when it was time for us to leave. (Granddaddy
would get so annoyed!) I didn’t know why you were crying until Dad
explained it to me. I remember thinking, wow, how much you must really
love us to cry so much. I’d never seen someone cry that much over us.
Somewhere in my twenties I realized that ability to cry is a great
strength. To be unafraid of the gift of emotion – of joy or sadness –
there is much freedom in that. Thank you for showing me that kind of
freedom.

I remember when you came to visit us in New York. And it began snowing
while we were eating. We all went outside and I think you were more
excited to see the snow that I was! You and Granddaddy actually made snow
balls and began throwing them at each other! And you were laughing so
much. I was surprised to see you so happy and playful. I think I was
around 10. I remember thinking that maybe you acted “grown-up” around me,
but this must be how you acted all the other times.

I remember being surprised at the dichotomy that you could be so lady-like
and feminine and at the same time so informed and opinioned about politics
and current events. You could easily and intelligently express yourself. I
enjoyed hearing about you “visiting” President Bush as you got older, when
your mind had begun making up things. You said he was very appreciative of
your advice. I bet he would be.

So, Monga, I miss you so much. Now you’re back to the way I remembered you
– but even better. I love you.