Missing Mimi
I’ve decided that the blog this week will be a memorial to people that have greatly influenced me—specifically to those who’ve already gone home. Day 4...
Mary Martin (1912-1993). My grandmother, “Mimi,” passed away the day before my birthday and just four months prior to Emma and me getting married. She grew up on a farm outside of Charlotte. Simultaneously free-spirited, strong-willed, yet gentle, she taught me a lot about life. She was a great cook, and was not afraid to let a restaurant chef know it. (As a young teenager, I once saw her send a steak back to the kitchen three times.)
Not long after my grandfather died, she moved in with us. She had a bedroom next to the kitchen, which was next to the den. Every Saturday morning when I was a kid, I would tiptoe into the den, sit on my bean bag chair and watch cartoons. Just when I’d get comfortable, almost without exception, I’d hear the door to her room open. Mimi would come into the den with her well-worn Bible or her marked up copy of My Utmost for His Highest and inevitably say, “Chip, do you have a minute? I have a word.”
It was about this time in my life when I learned the difference between the figurative and literal meaning of words like “word” and “minute.”
At this point, Bugs Bunny and the Road Runner were no longer options for the next hour or so, and I would sit and listen to Mimi talk about her relationship with God...except on the Saturday morning that I forgot to put the top back on my hamsters’ Habitrail set, but that's another story for another day.
During one of these Saturday morning “minutes,” she told me of an experience that she'd had with God in which she, overwhelmed by his gifts to her, said, “Lord, what can I give You? What do you want me to do for You?” The answer was, “Mary, you can't do anything for me...I don't need anything.”
This particular experience she shared has always stuck with me. We didn’t always agree on theological matters, but she understood well that grace is a gratis gift from God.
No one likes to be in need—whether it’s financial, emotional, physical or spiritual. We are taught to be self-sufficient at such an early age. Mimi taught me that grace cannot be earned. God doesn’t need us to do stuff to earn our way, for what can we do to impress the Creator of the universe?
The works we do are simply a living thank you letter, and this concept can be a giant horse pill for some people. It’s a horse pill for the irreligious who are angry at God that He didn’t show up when they needed Him and for the religious who are angry that they can’t earn it by their own merit. But it was just a baby aspirin for Mimi.
And Mimi, by the way, I married that girl that you loved so well while we were dating for all those years. Our first daughter has your first name. I miss having you around. Tell Rich, Brennan, and Dwight hello for me. And lastly, don’t send anything back to the kitchen up there. :)
P.S. If you’re still reading... That’s not me in the picture. I have no idea who that kid is. I just didn’t have time to convert all the 35mm slides to a digital picture for this.
