Gina

The pizza pan is sitting on the counter. The old tile floor, yellow and brown, is marred with spilled Kool-Aid and remnants of the night of laughter and fun at the kitchen table. The deck of cards are strewn across the table and floor showing the last moments of the game of "50 card pick up". 

We are sitting on the old green couch, cuddled close under a blanket watching a scarey movie. Her arm rests around my shoulder as my sister's legs entangle with hers. My hair is matted with hair gel and tiny bows, and she has mastered perfect french braids in my sister's blonde locks.

She is Gina. She is our babysitter. The one we cried out for when Mom would say, "Who do you want to babysit tonight?" She has spent as much time in our home as I have in my first 9 years of life. She has toted me to baseball practice, swimming lessons, haircuts, and the park. She has helped bathe me, braided my hair, read stories at night, and made my lunch, dinner and breakfast. 

She has shown me what high school love looks like, opened my eyes to girls playing basketball, and let me witness her love of music and fun. She smiles the biggest smile I have ever seen and makes me want to be with her more than my parents can afford in their babysitting budget!

She is Gina. 

Today, I sit in a church in West Des Moines, just an hour from my home. I am scanning the room, filled with people. Elderly people, those around my age, and young, just about to start living people. Some are holding the offered coffee and cookie, others simply grasp a kleenex. The room is not one of mourning, but one of joy. One of celebration, and love, and this feeling of, "I really knew her and I really loved her" fills the air."
 
The worship team takes their place and as the guitars begin to fill the air with songs of praise to our Savior my eyes can't help but scan the room. Yes there are pictures telling the story of her life flashing across the big screen: pictures of her babies being born, of nieces and nephews, of football games and cookie making, of mother and daughter, brother and sister, husband and wife. But my eyes are torn from the screen.

Everyone sits relatively quietly. Some are singing along to the lyrics of the song, but for the most part there appears to be a simple daze at the events of the week.Words are few over this gathering in a church this Saturday afternoon when the family was supposed to be unwrapping Christmas gifts and eating peanut clusters.

And then I notice it. Up front, in the very front row. In the seat reserved for the man who loved her most, her husband raises his hands to his Savior. The music chimes on. "Jesus Lives!" "Jesus Lives" No doubt his grief is great. His life has been changed forever...one minute laughing and listening to his wife talk about her garden, or Christmas, or family...and the next sitting in a church, surrounded by those who loved her, grieving for what was, what was planned and what might have been.

But his hands are raised! 

He is praising his Jesus for the life he had with her. Praising his Jesus for the life he knows she now has in heaven with him. Praising his Jesus for whatever it is on his heart this day. 

He does not care who fills the 25 pews behind and beside him. He does not care if others are following suit or simply watching him. He does not notice not the standing room only auditorium wanting to embrace him and his family during this time of grief or the baby crying in the back. He has an audience of ONE and he is saying, "I still believe!"

And in that moment, the tears begin to well up in my eyes. Tears over this man's faith. Tears over his heart for Jesus in the hard times. Tears over his witness to the hundreds of people filling the room. Tears over a life lived, by a woman I loved, for a Savior I cherish.

Oh Lord...bless the family. Bring them comfort and peace in knowing that their Gina touched my life and so many others. Bring them encouragement in knowing their witness during this time of grief and sorrow has brought me encouragement, has convicted me to live for Him, has spurred me to take the words of their dear Gina to heart and simply live with a Spirit of Christ each and every day! Dear Lord help us all to take what we witnessed that day, in that moment, and put it into practice. A spirit of joy, a spirit of happiness, a spirit of forgiveness and love and peace. Dear Lord thank you for Gina...for all of her...for all that she gave to others and to you!