Grandma's Gin and Coke

My grandmother did everything with a cigarette in one hand, a gin and Coke in the other, and a ready joke on her lips (often a crude one). In the end she couldn't pretend her way into heaven. She needed help…God's help.

But Georgene wasn't one to ask for help. Not when she was having to pick up her passed out, alcoholic husband from the lawn each morning. Not when she suffered abuse in her first marriage. And never when times were tough.

Her strategy was to laugh. Drink a little more. Put on a smile that pretended everything was fine. She was honestly the life of the party, especially the harder the times were.

Self-sufficiency has a way of ruling out your need for a savior.

Like most women of her generation, my grandmother appreciated God; that He existed somewhere out there in the cosmos. But she didn't have a relationship with Him. She also enjoyed her psychic television shows. Because if you can ignore the creator of the universe…the one that loves you more than anything, the one that would do anything for you, even die for you…you can also ignore that there is a ruler of Darkness out there who will stop at nothing to keep you away from that love.

He is the father of Lies, the king of deception. And one of his best strategies is to make you believe he doesn't even exist.

One afternoon, I walked down to my grandparents house. My grandmother flashed me her sparkling grin, the one that tried to cover all her troubles. But the smile fell too fast and worry replaced the dazzle.

“Are you okay grandma?” I hoped for once she would let me into her world, or would at least let someone else help carry her pain.

“I haven't been sleeping,” her voice trembled. She threw down another sip of her gin and coke. “It's 5:00 somewhere,” she added with a laugh.

She wasn’t just not sleeping, but a Darkness was tormenting her at night, playing with her mind.

My grandmother knew of my faith, similar to my mother's, but it was never a topic of conversation. So 26-year-old me offering to pray for her felt like a huge risk.

And I didn't just pray for my grandmother and ask God to help her. I rebuked the devil from interfering with her sleep and torturing her in the night time. I prayed for protection and declared that she could, “Lay down and sleep in peace because the Lord her God would make her dwell in safety”. Psalms 4:8 I prayed with Holy Spirit power and conviction.

I will never forget the look in her eyes when I finished praying. Wide and surprised.

She saw.

Her spiritual eyes had been opened. She suddenly knew the truth, that there was a force of Darkness out there that she could not defeat on her own. One she could not pretend away. And with it, she saw her need for a savior. Her need for help.

The next day she was brimming with a genuine smile. She had slept through the night. It was more than sleep, though. After I left her the day before, she had sat down to read the daily devotional my mother had given her months earlier. It focused on the strategies of the devil, one being to hide his existence. Everything she read confirmed her revelation, driving the truth deeper. That the only way to escape an eternity with the author of torment, was to rely on the grace of a savior. To acknowledge the one who was willing to stand in the gap. Shake His hand, sit down and have a long conversation with Him. Get to know Him, and allow Him into all of the secret compartments of her heart. Even the ones covered in inky, darkness making her think she could never be loved. He wanted it all, but He is a gentleman and would not force His way. Feeling the safety of a loving God, she repented and gave her life over to Jesus.

Just in the nick of time.

A few months later, I was in her house again, but with my grandmother on hospice and lying in a hospital bed in the front room. Her breathing changed.

My mom looked at me. “Hurry, go get grandpa.” I ran to the back office. He hobbled out with his cane as fast as he could and collapsed into a chair at her side. I had never heard my grandpa weep like that before. Sobbing, as his bride left this world. His sweetheart, the one who had loved him through his darkness and carried him until he could finally stand on his own two feet again, was now at the threshold of heaven. A place where she would be carried.

The three of us gathered around my grandmother watching her breaths grow shallower and shallower.

God often speaks to me through songs. Amongst the tears and heavy hearts, as my grandmother breathed her last breath and left this world, my spirit sang the words, “Fly to Jesus. Fly to Jesus and live.”

That was God's confirmation to me. My grandmother was ascending to the throne of grace.

It hadn't been until she saw how dark the darkness was, that she understood how bright the light was. A moment of clarity. That there was something else that existed in this world that wanted to keep her out of love's reach. She thought she could do it all on her own. But Georgene would never have to pretend not to need help again. Because she would never need it. She would never encounter abuse, heartache, or hardship again. She would never have to put on a smile and joke away her despair. She had gone home to the arms of love. She was in the presence of safety and peace.

I’m sure as she entered Heaven’s pearly gates, she had another joke ready on her lips. Maybe not one of the crude ones, but something that would make God smile. And He probably had one to tell her as well.

After all of the kidding was aside, I like to imagine her being held by our Heavenly Father and Him filling all of the holes that had been like burn marks on her heart, with the deep wells of His love. Making her whole. Making her new. Healing her completely. So she could flash her dazzling smile for all of heaven to see.