When my mum asked me to write you a tribute, my first thought was that
I didn’t even know you that well, and maybe it is true that I was too young
when we met to know who was holding me, but your influence is very prominent in
my life today. My mum, who is one of the best gifts that God has given me in life,
was significantly shaped by your life; her quiet trust in God, her patience and
the tenacity of her faith, the depth of her knowledge of and relationship with
God. Today, as I stand a young girl; most
of what I know about God and a huge part of my relationship with Him was
crafted by God through my mum. I can go wherever God leads me with almost no
fear, and with confidence that He’ll take care of me, because I’ve watched my
mother live that life. I respect God’s love for me more than any human’s,
because I’ve watched that love uphold my mum in her most difficult times. I’ve heard stories of and watched God comfort
my mum, and guide and direct her. I’ve watched Him provide for her in miraculous
ways, over and over again. I’ve watched him transform her heart and take her
over her fears. I’ve watched Him redefine her identity, her priorities, her
temperament. I watched God teach a little daughter of His; my mum. I have had
the privilege of watching the beauty that results from a life of faith, a life
lived walking hand in hand with God, and that is very much a core of who I am
today. You were instrumental in helping my mum find that door to a relationship
with God; finding and accepting Christ. The relationship that has become the
core of her existence, and has very much been instrumental in our family, has
influenced my relationship with God, which I am finding is the greatest
treasure that I possess. I know that you have influenced my life in the
important ways. So no, we did not walk in parks together, nor did I get to play
with your silvery white hair. No, you never gave me relationship advice or
recount to me countless times how you fell in love with your wife. But stories
of your faith, even at the expense of your life are familiar to me, and you
were in the process of my receiving the most important thing a girl could want
in life. So maybe I don’t know you that well, but maybe I do. Maybe I do,
because I am knowing what it means to have my heart beat according to the
rhythm of God’s heart; the same rhythm to which your heart beat until its very
last beat. Maybe in that moment when you were holding baby Nmeli in your arms,
she couldn’t yet speak, but maybe our spirits communicated in the very same way
an experienced soldier would communicate with a new soldier, our fight; the
fight of faith. So maybe all I said sounded like the babbles of a baby, or maybe
I was completely silent, and maybe that silence was a signal of solidarity
between fellow soldiers. I truly love that you lived your life the way you did
grandpa, I am very proud of you, I’m proud to be related to you physically and
spiritually. Your life has truly impacted my friends here in America, and all
the people I’ve come in contact with these past 19 years. One of my friends Lily,
on hearing the news of your death texted me “Hey Nmeli! I’m thinking of you and
your family right now!! Praising God for the wonderful life that your grandpa
lived and the faith warriors that he has raised up.” Until we meet again in
Heaven and I tell you of all the victories and wounds from my experience of the
war, I’ll keep being thankful that you lived your life the way you did, and I’ll
keep fighting this fight of faith.
Love,
Your
babbling granddaughter,
Nmeli.
