By Dawn Byington 
One night when I was five, two men knocked on our door. They didn’t say much but handed my mother a small book that contained the four gospels and asked my mother to read the book of John. She didn’t know these men, and we never saw them again. But, my, she read the book of John. Her eyes and heart were opened, and she began to hunger to know more. She started asking all kinds of questions, and she and my father began attending church. My mother devoted her life to Christ and longed for the day when she would see him.
As I grew, my mother and I were very close, and she loved being a grandmother. She joked about spoiling them rotten and then sending them home. It was her right to give them the candy and sodas I didn’t allow at home—only for me to deal with the aftermath. But she loved them to death.
The day I found out I was pregnant with our first son, her first grandchild, was the day she moved from Connecticut to South Carolina. She was devastated. She knew she would miss a lot. Though she came to visit as often as she could, South Carolina was a long way away.
My brothers grew, and they also began having kids. Eventually, we all moved near her. She was never happier than when her house was filled with all her children and grandchildren. Moving to South Carolina allowed her to buy a large house for all of us to come and stay with her at any time.
She loved this house. She worked hard to maintain this central place where we could all gather. On her front porch was a swing. She would sit in this swing at any time of day, but her favorite time was right after dinner. She’d sit there with her evening tea watching the birds and listening to the grandchildren play. We’d all gather on the porch to laugh and talk, but when we’d all slip away, I would notice our son sitting quietly beside her.
They did this for years. He’d sit and drink tea with her and tell her his dreams, his interests, the new things he was working on. He is a huge thinker and loves to learn new things. She was always fascinated by his thoughts and would sit and listen for hours. My introverted son found peace and joy sitting with his patient and loving grandmother.
Then came the dreaded word: cancer. In 2016, she was diagnosed with stage four ovarian cancer. For the next year and a half, she fought hard. She underwent many surgeries, chemo, and radiation. There were many days she was so sick and didn’t have the energy or strength for us to gather around her.
That year we had one last huge Christmas before she was too sick to have anyone over. Cousins and family flew in and gathered around my mother.
Through the years my husband and I had tried for another child. After our son, we had a beautiful little girl, but we wanted more. I felt in my soul that we were to have more children. I would dream about them. I was so discouraged after years of bareness and miscarriages.
The summer before my mother passed I was able to share with her the news of our pregnancy. I was finally pregnant again after almost 10 years, but my heart was filled with so much joy and pain when I learned that the baby’s due date was her birthday. Knowing my mother might not make it to see this grandchild born, I felt this was a gift from God to remember her.
A few short weeks later, our baby was diagnosed with Trisomy 18. We named him Ezekiel, which means the strength of God. And we would need this strength as we were told he would pass within a few weeks. The reality that I was going to lose yet another baby and also lose my mother sent me spinning. I waited in dread for the moment we would lose them both. But by the hand of God, we carried Ezekiel to week 33.
Right before Christmas, my mother passed away. My belly was swollen, and my heart was breaking. One month later, Ezekiel passed away. My first thought was my mother, who longed to see Jesus, who longed to be with her Savior in Heaven, got to see Ezekiel first. I know she ran to meet him. I know she laughed and cried when she held his healed body in her healed and strengthened arms. I rejoiced the day he passed knowing they were both healed, they were both with Jesus, and they were together.
by Nikki Pennington 
