Childhood Calling

I had the extreme and rare privilege to grow up as a third generation friend. My first friends from childhood were the parents of my mom's first friends who were the parents of my Papa Bill's first friends. The common ground we all shared was a church out on a hill smack in the middle of several small towns that all of our Great Grandparents were charter members of. Because of the deep history we all inherited and we saw each other every Sunday and Wednesday our entire lives these people have always had a piece of my heart. Their parents are a little like mine too, as are their grandparents. In fact, they all called my grandpa "Papa" too, I guess because that's what we called him in our 2-3 year old Sunday School class. We may not have spent holidays together, except New Years Eve, or been related by blood, but in nearly every early memory or picture from my childhood one or more of these friends are there.
Our parents grew up going on family vacations together and were each others first kisses, best friends and groomsmen. When they were our age they took vacations together and left all of us kids with our grandparents. They all had babies at the same time and made sure we all grew up in church together. All of our moms took turns teaching us in Sunday School and VBS.
We all played hide and seek during choir practice and ran down the halls of our church while our parents weren't looking. We would scoot our Sunday shoes along the bright orange carpet of the sanctuary collecting static electricity to shock each other with. We went to church camp and youth group ski trips together every year. I have more memories then I can count surrounded by the Christian and Huddleston kids.
And sadly, we are the last generation to experience this kind of friendship. Since those days at Union Hill we've all moved off, got married and had babies of our own who don't know the Christian's or the Huddleston's. Our kids won't grow up singing in church Christmas pageants together or teasing each other through their awkward teenage years. And I know they are missing out on a huge blessing.
This weekend Mildred Christian, their grandmother, had a massive stroke that caused irreversible, tremendous brain damage. Their family gathered yesterday at a hospital in Oklahoma City and sang together as they unplugged the life support that was keeping her stable. A fitting tribute to a lady who made their WHOLE family sing at church lots of times and usually in rounds of good old Southern Baptist church songs. Her organs are still functioning and she is clinging to life, but it's just a matter of time. There is nothing the doctors can do.
I was never especially close to Miss. Mildred, or Me-Maw as they called her, but my heart is breaking along with theirs because of the deep, generational friendships I was blessed to be born into. When I think back through my childhood I can see Mildred in the background at nearly every turn. As I grew up beside her grandchildren she witnessed to me through her steadfast service and consistancy. I knew she loved her grandkids and I felt a little included under that umbrella. I can't remember a single Sunday of my nearly thirty years of life that I didn't hear her high soprano voice rise above the rest of the choir's during church at Union Hill. In fact, my mom still loves to tell the story of how Mildred fed me my first solid food in the nursery one Sunday. She's still a little bitter she didn't get that first cracker in a picture.
She was a special part of a very special family and now she is gone. In the blink of an eye. She was fine on Friday and spent it with one of her great grandkids, just how she would've chosen her last day on earth probably.
I don't know why this has shaken my so much. Maybe it's because I know it could be our family soon and I dread that day so much. Or maybe its just hard to see those we love hurt. But either way its hard to see my grandparents generation of friends slowly disappear. I'm thankful for the role that Mildred played in my life and for the place she has in my heart. May the Lord be gracious to her and welcome her into Glory soon.
I'm so thankful for the faces and friendships of those who filled my days growing up. I can't imagine it any other way.