Loss, Change and The Ancient Mast

“So keep to the old roads and you’ll find your way.” – Andrew Peterson

The arms that once held me have gone limp. They faded into glory on Saturday, May 19th. And with them, the rare kind of generous and lifegiving love that I can only ever hope to aspire to. My grandmother, Ruby Allen, was that kind of beautiful soul that is such a precious gift, so honestly good and lovely, that one gasps to think of life without her. Indeed, I struggle to think of what will come even as I ponder on what was.

She was so many good things… a gifted seamstress, a crochet queen, a humble cook, a delectable baker, a glorious gardener, a garage sale coinsure, a faithful wife, patient mother, doting grandmother, lover of babies and a true friend who never knew a stranger. And yet she was also a steel-willed maven–not afraid to nurse a litter of squirrel kits who had fallen from their nest one day and butcher our pet chickens the next. She was raised on a farm and one of the most practical people I ever knew. When I was naughty I never heard her raise her voice. The worst admonition one could hope to pry from her soft-spoken lips was the quiet “tsk tsk tsk” and a gentle, “Now, let’s be nice.” And so when I remember her, knee deep in the river, giving her approval to my collection of mussel shells, crawdads, and the tiny perch I just caught, or even providing an empty can of beans to put my peepers in, I weep. Because she was the only grandmother I ever knew and the loss of her presence leaves a tremendous wound.

The are some who will say there is consolation in the good memories and I do not disagree. But grief is a sword that slices to the bone. When we lose someone who gave their life to hold us up, we suddenly fall. We scrape our knees and our tears seep into the sidewalk. We grasp for those arms but they are not there to hold us and we feel that terrible agony of sorrow slicing through us. I hate death. It is unnatural, ugly and wrong. I rebel against it with every fiber of my being, and I suppose I will keep doing that until the day I join my Grandmother in Heaven.

As I have wandered through these last few days of shock and sadness, I have heard a small whisper in the back of my mind… “Lash your heart to the ancient mast.” It is from a song written by a father to his son. It is all of the wisdom he has imparted in life set to a tune he hopes will guide the lad when he is not able to be near him. The “ancient mast” is in reference to the “Ancient of Days” from a small passage of scripture in the bible.

“As I looked, thrones were placed, and the Ancient of Days took his seat; his clothing was white as snow, and the hair of his head like pure wool; his throne was fiery flames; its wheels were burning fire.” – Daniel 7:9

In the bible, God describes himself as a loving father for those who choose to believe in and love him. So when I think about “lashing myself to the ancient mast” I am comforted. I believe what the bible says about God is true. He is real, he loves me, and he cares about my sorrows. So in this moment of unsettling grief, when I am torn asunder by this terrible change in my life, I take immense comfort in the knowledge that God does not change. While change in this world is constant, he will always be the same.

“Every good and perfect gift is from above, coming down from the Father of lights with whom there is no variation or shadow due to change.” – James 1:17

When I clench my fists and pound the air with my wailing because I am so angry at death, I remember that our human death is not the end of our story. God created us as eternal beings and I believe we will go on living after we die. The bible clearly says that while the wages of sin is death, the gift of God is eternal life through Jesus Christ our Lord. God is just; he punishes our sin (rejection of God/faithless hearts) with eternal death. But he sent his son Jesus to be the sacrifice for our sins and so in believing on His name we are saved from eternal separation from God (hell).

“See what kind of love the Father has given to us, that we should be called children of God; and so we are.” 1 John 3:1

My grandmother was so passionate in her love for her family that she insisted one of her great grandchildren be baptized in the river before she died. This is the way she lived her life, giving and loving and holding and healing and helping and saving and quietly teaching us to do the same. And so when I consider her legacy and the beautiful heritage she has passed down to her family, I rejoice! She exemplified the command Jesus gave to all of us when he said, “Love the Lord your God with all your heart, soul mind and strength, and love your neighbor as yourself.”

Today the arms that held us have gone. My grandmother will be buried and the family will mourn. We will remember and somehow press forward without her. But we are not without hope. We have the opportunity to lash ourselves to the Ancient Mast and find our way home. And I take so much joy and comfort from the knowledge that Ruby exists now in her purest form; love personified, light and goodness, with no hindrance of pain or worry or weariness. I will miss her but I know I will also try to be more like her because I am so thankful for her example. Even though her light has dimmed, the Light Giver has not. And so I will gather strength from Him to help me in the sad and trying days to come.

On May 22, 2018   /   The Journey   /   Leave a comment