It's been nine years since one of my dearest great-aunts went home to Jesus. I have many delightful great-aunts that I am blessed to know, and I should take the time to write a tribute to each of them, but today is my Aunt Paula's turn. The first memory I have that I know for certain is of Aunt Paula, is seeing her at a family reunion, laughing with my Grandpa. She laughed a lot. I loved going to PA to see her and Uncle Phil. The amount of stragglers that came through her door was a lot, now that I think of it. She always had room for people in her house. And she took time for them.
One of my core memories of Aunt Paula is watching her place still damp dishes into the cupboard, saying, "They will dry off just as well in there! Now we can go play something!" This girl who hated doing dishes adopted that as her life motto.
Once, I was a little annoyed because of the dog hair on the floor of her house... now guess who has dog hair on the floor in their house? Yes, it's me.
You know how, as a child, at some houses you didn't feel real comfortable spreading all the toys around? Aunt Paula never seemed to care, even if we carpeted the floor with the toys. She would carry on her lively conversations or competitive games and not even seem to notice.
I'm pretty sure she wasn't perfect... she was born a Brubacher, after all. But she showed me what it meant to take time for people, even if you had other things to do. I think of her... when I put a wet dish in the cupboard or when people stop by, my house is not clean and I'm tempted to not invite them in. I think of her whenever I play Canasta. And when I think of her, I think of compassion and grace.
Her death came in the middle of the loneliest, darkest time in my life. A time when I felt no one was hearing what I was saying or even really cared how I felt. The things in my life that I lived for, that brought me the greatest joy, were being taken away and there was nothing I could do about it. During the last painful day of her life, my dear Aunt Paula asked my grandma about me and gave her a message that she was to give me. Those few words were the brightest spot in my life for months. It's that little message that gave me the small push I needed to keep living, to get up every morning and to heal. So when I think of my Great-aunt Paula, I am always reminded of how huge her heart for others was and how our few words of love, grace and encouragement might be what someone needs to keep living another day.
I love you too, Aunt Paula.