Our Beloved Opa is with the Lord now

It is a custom of my cousins to give a 'just-call-to-make-your-phone-ring.' They miss me, probably. Smile.

Yesterday, on Sunday, they called me again. Unstoppable phone calls.
This time it wasn't merely a call.
Unfortunately, I didn't carry along my cellphone with me. I left in inside my backpack.

I missed the phone calls.


Some of you might have different reaction to a continuing call as I had yesterday.
I did.
My reaction was first, worry. I was worry that something bad had happened to Opa, our grandfather. Second, hopeful. I hoped that nothing was wrong with him.

Opa is mama's dad. He and Oma, our grandmother, do not live in the same city with my parents. They live in their own house with my uncles and cousins..

Opa had been hospitalized since November 2013 and from that time our family had been praying for his health. Flash back to the previous year, I took sometime to visit him and Oma. He had lost his sight and could no longer walk. He could sit and eat though. He didn't talk much as he used to, instead, he was silent most of the time. When I was there, I sat with him, talked, asked about his health, and cried. Well, he cried most of the time instead of talking. I grew up with them so their physical changes had somehow amazed and saddened me. Growing old is a blessing. I read it once in the Bible. It is and I learned to understand that from Opa and Oma and my late grandmother, my dad's mom.

Upon my return to Jogjakarta, I was informed that Opa was hospitalized, unconscious till yesterday, Sunday, the fourth of January.

The phone call that I missed in the afternoon was to tell me that our beloved Opa had gone to be with the Lord.

The tears flew down on my cheek. I restrained myself from bursting into tears. I had to teach Sunday school class soon! It wasn't an easy thing to do. I felt like crying out loud during our team prayer time and the worship time. It was the moment God trained me to put my trust in Him. I was going to talk about it to the children and was whispering to God minutes before: "help me to experience this before I teach this to the children."

Loaded with sadness, I learned to trust God. I learned to believe that He is in control.

When the Sunday school time ended, when the noise of children laughs was vanished, the sadness haunted me down. I was thankful for, again, not burst into tears.

Only when I was alone, in my room last night, I found myself on my knees. It was a quiet moment. I prayed. Prayed for my family, my mother and her siblings. Prayed for Oma.

Cried.

Two months before my legs couldn't hold the weight of my body as I cried out to God on the floor. I cried out for answers and healing.

We often do.
We cry out for answers and for the ability to understand the circumstance. We cry out with demands for just one more chance to see or hear that person. We would give everything to go back and tell that person how much they mean to us or how we wish things would have been different.

As I woke up this morning, I believe that today Opa is with Jesus. Eventually the rest of us remember that God loves us too. We know Jesus. We have right relationships with God and we determine once more to trust him.

Trust him because he makes all things right--even when everything seems so wrong.

Rest in peace, beloved Opa. 
It is relieving to know that you are now with the Lord.  

We love you and will always miss you.