Long before I was born, my dad’s family huddled together in shock and

grief outside their burning home.  Bright red flames shot into the winter sky as

they came to the heart-wrenching realization that their precious daughter and

sister, Doris Yvonne, had not made it out with the rest of the family.  All had

been asleep when the fire broke out; their rooms engulfed in smoke and

flames when they awoke.  In confusion and panic, grandpa had grabbed the

bundle in the baby’s crib and stumbled outside to find the others.  Heart

pounding, he looked down to see that he had gathered up a tight rolled heavy

blanket and baby Doris had been left behind.  

     During those tortuous moments, when all hope was gone, my

grandmother, Myrtle Shaw, embraced her loss and began a life-long journey to

fulfill her destiny.  The only thing remaining of her baby daughter would be her

small grave.  All her baby pictures and toys were gone, but she would cherish

her memories of Doris’ chubby cheeks and infectious laughter.     

     Myrtle’s appreciation for her sons grew as a result of her loss.  She was

active in their school activities, took them to church faithfully, and taught

them to work in the family’s mattress factory.  She instilled deep reverence

for God and family in them.  Later, when her sons had grown and married, she

extended her love and evotion to her daughter-in laws and her

grandchildren.   She especially loved being a grandmother and enjoyed sharing

ideas with her grandchildren.  She once asked me, “Do you think we will have

to answer for everything we’ve done when we get to heaven?”  She quietly

listened to my answer without commenting, but she had certainly gotten my

attention.  She helped to build my self-confidence by valuing my thoughts and

opinions.  All of us kids were treated like we were special. 

     Decades later, at the age of 98, she was left alone as grandpa had died

many years before and all three of her sons had also died.  She often asked

one of her grandchildren, “Why do you think I’m still here when everyone else

has died?”  Not long after one such conversation, my cousin, Kendi was

touched by our grandmother’s desire to “go be with the Lord, her husband and

her children”.  Kendi prayed, “Lord, why are you allowing grandma to live all of

these years?  She is a very lonely now.  She has lost family and wants to go

home.”  
 
     Kendi felt God’s gentle Spirit speak to her heart.  She had been living

against the values she had learned as a child and now believed that God was

asking her to made radical life-style changes.  She had never discussed her

lifestyle with grandma, though it was not a secret.  Kendi became convinced

that grandma knew and was waiting for her to turn her life over to the Lord

before she died.  It was the hardest decision Kendi had ever made, but she

made a promise to the Lord that she would turn away from the sin in her life

with His help.  Two days later, grandma quietly died in her sleep.    

     All of us grandkids got together after her death and reminisced about how

she had influenced each of our lives.  Though not perfect, we agreed that she

had given each of us values that included a stubborn faith in God and His

Word, and the importance of family. 
 
     We laughed and cried as we sat on the floor searching through boxes of

pictures and old letters.  While looking through Myrtle’s Bible, I found a scrap

of paper.  On it the name, Doris Yvonne, and the dates of her birth and death

were written over and over in her own arthritic handwriting.  This note spoke

volumes to us about her last days.  She had never forgotten her dear

daughter; yet, she had overcome grief and had lavishly poured her love upon

her family.  Her life of love has left us a powerful legacy.

All pages copyright 1999 - 2008 Leslie Shaw Holzmann