I remember it was late in the evening, but her lights were still on. I could hear the pecans cracking under the weight of my tires as I pulled onto her driveway one last time.
We sat together and she grabbed my hand. She had the softest skin. Her deep wrinkles and weak smile said more than her words. This woman had been through a lot. I never felt closer to her more than I did right then. Never had we so much in common as we did at that moment. In a hushed voice, she divulged the specifics of her own story of suffering at the hands of someone who she somehow still loved. He was indeed a hard man to love. Her voice quivered as her story poured out.
I was headed three states away to escape my abuser. I was pregnant and scared. She understood me. She cried with me and squeezed my hand. She said, "You leaving like you are - you're doing the right thing now, ya hear?!" Now you can raise that baby without any fear. She was right. Her words were a comfort to me. Those were the last words she ever spoke to me. My grandmother passed away two weeks after Joel was born.
Grandma Faye was a prayer warrior. She was kind, compassionate, and loved deeply. Her relationship with Jesus was real and beautiful. Grandma Faye, I know you would be proud of me for not allowing one mistake to define my entire life and the lives of my children. Thank you for the courage that you imparted to me that night. You are missed.
If you want to read my whole story click here: https://rachelaldous.com/files/246281/rachels-book.pdf
