In the Garden.

Virginia Driggers (1919-2006)

Today marks a special anniversary in our family.  Six years ago, my sweet grandmother (my Mama) went to the Great Throne Room…the day she lived her entire life for…the day when her faith became her eyes.

I still remember so many details about my last night with her. I remember the love and unity in my family as my father made the long, prayerful, heartbreaking decision to remove her life support. We were so proud of him, and I have never felt more honored or blessed to be his daughter. He led our family through a very difficult time with tenderness, compassion, and humility. The way he honored his mother while he and Mom were caring for her at home for those last years, and the way that he honored her during her last days on earth demonstrate the type of man my Daddy is...and the type of mother my Mama was to him. The selflessness of my parents during those years of caring for her in their home is something that I will forever admire and stand in awe of.

Everyone was utterly exhausted on that last night. But I had come to the hospital a little later than the others that day, so I stayed overnight to allow the others to get the extra rest that I had been able to enjoy the night before. Her life support had been removed earlier that day, and by that evening, her vitals were still in the normal range but were falling very, very slowly. The doctors were telling us that we probably had another day or so. That was so typical of her fighting spirit! Mama had several health problems, but the one that ultimately took her life was respiratory failure. As the body fights for every breath, there is a sound that I will never forget. I will hear it every so often when visiting a hospital, and it brings chills every single time.

After everyone had left the hospital that night, I lay next to my sweet Mama as she fought for every breath. Over and over and over. I talked to her through the night, read from Isaiah and the Psalms (her favorites), and sang to her. The only times her breathing calmed was when we sang one of her favorite hymns to her... “Amazing Grace”, “I Surrender”, or her true favorite, “In the Garden”.

I sensed that Mama had already begun her journey that night to her King. While I longed for her, one last time, to talk to me and tell me her stories as she had done so many times before, I wondered what she must be experiencing and seeing. I stared at her face for hours, stroking her cheek, longing to capture every memory I could of her face and her hands.

Mama had fallen down her front steps three years before, which prompted her moving in with Mom and Dad because she could no longer walk, go to the bathroom, or care for herself. She was in severe pain for a long, long time. Her mind and her heart were as alive as when she was fifty years younger, but her body was just giving out. She loved the outdoors so much but could no longer get outside, so we created a garden room for her with a rocking chair next to a big window, and her bed positioned by the window also. Dad placed bird feeders and plants right outside her window, and she had every single squirrel named. There was “Greedy Gut” (the bully of the bunch) and “Walter”. And she loved watching the birds. She would sit for hours and watch, and read from her Bible. Every so often, she'd squeeze in a little Judge Judy, too. She LOVED Judge Judy. Ha!

Mama was born into poverty and lost her mother as an infant. She was raised under severely adverse circumstances, yet still developed a strength and a spirit of perseverance that simply could not be broken. My grandfather suffered from addictions that made Mama’s and my Dad’s lives very difficult on many levels. Yet, as my Dad shared on the day of her funeral, she never made her children feel as though they were a bother… he testified that she always made her children feel important, valued, and loved. I am forever grateful to her for what she instilled in my Daddy so that he could, in turn, give the same to his children.

As a little girl, I remember when she lived in Florida and would visit us each summer. I would sit in the car anxiously on the long ride to the airport to pick her up, and I remember the butterflies I felt waiting for her to exit the gate to catch the first glimpse of her sweet face. And the hug that followed was so tight that I couldn’t breathe! When Mama hugged you, you KNEW you’d been hugged! When we arrived home, she would always pull three gifts from her bag, one for each of my sisters and me. Mama drank Sanka instant coffee, and she would save her little Sanka jars. She would fill a jar with change, and bring it to me when she would visit. Dad and I would sit at the kitchen table and he taught me how to count it out. I would get so excited, that you would have thought that $3.00 in change was a million dollars. Then, a fun shopping trip with Mama would follow as I chose my treasure.

When I was little, I was also fascinated with all of her night creams, potions and makeup. Mama would sleep in my room when she visited, and I would sleep with her. My most fond memory of my Mama is the way she would smell. During those last weeks, when it appeared she wasn’t coming home from the hospital, I found myself in the drug store buying a box of her Coty face powder. Mama always wore it, and I longed to smell the familiar sweetness of her beauty. And you can still find that box of powder in a very special place in my dressing area today, for those times when the memory of her consumes me.

Of course as I grew up, I began to see her differently. I began to see her from an adult’s perspective, and began to recognize that along with the soft qualities I knew of her as a little girl, she held a great deal of strength, resilience, and faith. Her life was not about material things, glamour, or impressing anyone. She was so very content with so little.

Mama’s love for her family was unshakable, unquestionable, and unrelenting. And her faith, trust, and love in the Lord were also unshakable, unquestionable, and unrelenting. She had coffee with Jesus every day, she was a prayer warrior, and spoke boldly and unapologetically of her love for God. The mere mention of the name of Jesus brought a smile and a twinkle to her eye.

After our last night together, the next afternoon, with her family standing around her as she took her final breath, her once gray and lifeless face became bright, radiant, and exquisite. Holding her hand and witnessing this moment as she set her eyes upon her God was one of the most incredible blessings that I have ever been given, and I praise God that He allowed me to be a part of that moment.  There was no noise. No fight for her last breath. There was simply peace. Beautiful, beautiful peace.

About 2 years before her final day with us, we were sitting in her garden room in Mom and Dad's house, just talking and talking about everything under the sun. At that time, she was in a great deal of physical pain and had been for a long, long while. 

She had looked intently at me, not with sadness, but with excited, eager anticipation, and said “Melissa, I’m ready to go. I want to be with Jesus. I am sure of my salvation. I have my ticket to Heaven, I just need a ride!” Mama, I'll bet that ride was amazing. And I’ll bet the Garden is just beautiful.

I come to the garden alone

While the dew is still on the roses

And the voice I hear, falling on my ear

The Son of God discloses

And He walks with me

And He talks with me

And He tells me I am His own

And the joy we share as we tarry there

None other has ever known

He speaks and the sound of His voice

Is so sweet the birds hush their singing

And the melody that He gave to me

Within my heart is ringing

And He walks with me

And He talks with me

And He tells me I am His own

And the joy we share as we tarry there

None other has ever known

I'd stay in the garden with Him

'Tho the night around me be falling

But He bids me go; through the voice of woe

His voice to me is calling

And He walks with me

And He talks with me

And He tells me I am His own

And the joy we share as we tarry there

None other has ever known