Saved by Grace
Saved by Grace
It was the first Saturday of the New Year and soon to be my friend’s last. As I headed to the hospital to visit Grace, I remembered one late spring Sunday morning when I’d driven to her house and told her I had a surprise. Without hesitation, she’d gotten into my car and begun guessing the surprise. “Are you taking me to church? Are we going to eat? You didn’t get me a dog or a goat or something, did you?” She was delighted when my surprise turned out to be a group of owlets in Davidson Park.
Now Grace, a friend since I’d begun leading fitness classes in a room at the “vanilla church” in Westby eleven years ago, was ill and not expected to live much longer. It was decided she would stay comfortably in Gundersen Hospital in La Crosse until she died.
At 93, Grace had known for a while that she wouldn’t be around much longer and lived each day to the fullest. She’d managed to live independently in her home until this final hospital stay, with the help of her son, daughter-in-law, many friends, and lovely neighbors.
Grace had prepared me for her death. She did that by telling me stories about her family and what she told them she’d leave them, like a cookie jar or her recipes. From the stories she shared I knew they weren’t avoiding the fact that Grace was getting older and wouldn’t always be here. Her deep faith and her sense of humor about her inevitable death were always apparent.
On my last visit to her home, there had been significant road construction in front of her house. I couldn’t figure out where to turn to pull into her driveway; it appeared there was no access. After circling her home a few times, I drove over a curb that looked substantial enough to hold the car's weight, and we had a lovely visit. Grace wrote afterward in a card that she’d laughed while watching me leave, praying I wouldn’t blow out a tire.
When I got to the hospital on Saturday, the door was closed. After knocking a few times, I asked a nurse if she knew whether anyone was visiting. The nurse smiled and said she must be one neat lady, as Grace had had a steady stream of visitors since she was admitted. I opened the door and poked my head in.
Grace’s daughter-in-law and two neighbors were there, and they welcomed me. Soon her granddaughter and son, whom I’d heard so much about, arrived. Grace was comfortable but not responsive. Sitting with her, I held her hand and told her how much her friendship meant to me—how much her faith in me meant. She’d been supportive through my hip challenges, my mom and sister's deaths, Dane’s heart attacks, my granddaughter Helena’s death, and more.
I asked her to say hello to Helena for me. Knowing Grace had been praying for my daughter and had put her name on a prayer list at her church had brought me comfort.
I told Grace's family about a letter she wrote me in response to a story in my first book. In the story, I’d said, “I find myself looking up and silently saying thank you. To whom, I’m not sure.” Grace told me it was God and reminded me (again) that He loves me. Her son, Carl, recalled Grace carefully writing me that letter. It was important to her to share her faith with me. He said that her last words, when they told her she’d be staying at Gundersen as she prepared to go to her eternal home, were, “I’m so excited.”
Later that day, a friend messaged me that she’d been visiting Grace, and my name came up. Sarah and I hadn’t realized we had Grace in common as friends! Sarah said that the family told her Grace was always worried about my salvation.
To have someone like Grace in your life is a true blessing. She will be missed by many. But I know she’s already working her miracles and no doubt making Helena laugh with her stories. I hope she tells her about the day we saw the owlets. Helena would like that story.
