Memories and Resolutions

My mind has been on my grandfather lately. He passed away more than ten years ago, but I still think about him often. He was the only grandfather I ever knew since my father's father passed away a few weeks before I was born. My grandfather taught me so much and he loved to talk about the old days.
There's an old country song by the Judds called "Grandpa, Tell Me About The Good Old Days" and I love listening to that song. It reminds me of my grandfather and the way he used to talk about his brothers, his wife, his children, the first time he ever saw a plane flying in the air. My grandfather had so much to share and he would gladly do so to anyone that would take the time and listen.
I wish I would have listened to him more, but I'm also thankful for the time and memories that we did share. He was a good man that loved his wife so deeply.
Most of my memories of my grandmother are sad ones. I was really young when she was diagnosed with Alzheimer's disease. This sickness riddled her body and mind, making any future happy memories few and far between.
My mother and her three sisters took turns taking care of my grandmother. My grandpa absolutely refused to place my grandmother in a nursing home. He wanted her home. He wanted her close. It was a promise they made to one another and he had planned to keep his end of that promise.
I would go with my mother on the weekends that she took care of grandma. Partly to see grandpa and partly to see my cousin who was only two years younger than me. I helped my mother when she needed my help and then spent the rest of the time listening to grandpa or playing with Jamie. Jamie and I grew up together and I missed her when we moved away. Those weekends were special for me and I have several wonderful memories that I cherish.
Jamie and I grew up in a small town. A town where people didn't lock their doors and kids felt safe walking home from school. A town where everyone knew everyone and secrets were hard to keep. A town that had values and believed in going to church on Sunday and being kind to one another. It wasn't perfect. No town could ever be that. I can remember going fishing with my grandfather and helping him in the corn fields. I remember the tractor he used to plow the fields and the sunflowers that covered one side of his yard. I can remember the countless nights that Jamie and I stayed up talking and laughing. That small town holds a lot of fond memories for me and even though I no longer live there, it is a very special place to me.
When I was 15, Jamie was diagnosed with Leukemia. About six weeks later, she was gone. She was only 13. Jamie was my cousin and my best friend. I never got to say good-bye and that's something that has haunted me the past 16 years. The pain I felt when Jamie died was more than I ever imagined I could feel. I couldn't believe that God would take a 13 year old kid. Why? I was angry and hurt and very confused.
My grandfather cried with me. He hurt for me. I remember him telling me that "this too shall pass." He always said that. I didn't believe him then, but the pain did pass. Her memory is not gone, but I can think about her now without pain or tears or regret. We had a great friendship. One that I will treasure the rest of my life. His words rang in my ears on the night that he passed away. He left an emptiness in my heart that I still feel today, but I also feel proud to be his granddaughter. I feel privileged to have so many memories of a wonderful man in my heart.
Yesterday morning while on my way to work, I noticed a car on the side of the road with their flashers on. As I passed by, I saw an arm trying to wave me down. I put on my brakes and intended to turn around, but I stopped. It's a little past six in the morning and still very dark outside, despite the full moon. I'm a woman alone in a car. I have no idea who the other person is or if they are truly in need of assistance. I keep going. I picked up my phone to call 911 when a car in the opposite lane slowed down and, I assumed, stopped to help the person. Everyone told me that I did the right thing, but I still felt horrible. Why did that warning flash through me commanding me to continue to work and not stop? What is wrong with the world when I can't stop and offer assistance for fear that I might be kidnapped, raped, or murdered?
It's now 2007 and the times have changed so much that I long for the good old days. No, they weren't perfect. They had their own troubles and heartaches, but I don't like the fear and the doubt. I don't like having to be cautious whenever I want to help a stranger on the side of the road.
Is this the way God intended for us to live? In fear of our fellow man? In the Garden of Eden, God walked with Adam and Eve. He walked with them. He often sat and talked with them. When sin entered the world, He couldn't find them. Sin created a divide between man and God. A divided that God didn't want, but still knew would happen. A divide that He already knew how to bridge.
We just celebrated Christ's birth followed by a celebration of a new year to come. What will the new year bring? The negative side in me says that it will bring more tragedy, more fear, and more sadness. The positive side says that I will do all that I can to shed light in the darkness and bring hope to those without. I want the old days of trust among fellow man. I want to feel free to stop and help anyone that may need it without fear of what might happen to me. I want my children to live in a better world -- not worse.
The new year is a time of resolutions and change. My resolution, first and foremost, is to walk closer with the Lord. How can I expect to make any difference in the world if I'm not connected to the Word? How can anyone?