Give Thanks with a Grateful Heart
"Many happy returns to the day of your birth. May joy and gladness be given. And may the dear Father prepare you on earth, for a glorious birthday in heaven."
Papa
I published my blog last Monday morning and in the evening I got a text from my mom that Papa was doing worse. His blood pressure was low and he had a fever. I called her. She was at the hospice center with him and my grandma and she said that it wasn't going to be much longer. "His body is here, but his spirit is gone." she told me. "I think he's there visiting you in Tanzania. Look for him, ok? In the children. In the rain. Even in the mosquitos." I laughed softly as tears filled my eyes. She asked me about my day and what was going on here. I told her stories about the kids and we laughed. She was in the middle of a sentence when she suddenly said "I have to go." and hung up the phone. I knew that was it.
My grandfather, Carman Ragatz II, passed away peacefully on November 12, 2018. He was 90 years old. He lived a long life full of love, laughter, good food, and bear hugs. I am incredibly blessed that out of the many people in the world, God chose him to be my Papa. That I got to be a witness and receiver of God's love through him for the past 25 years.
I texted Frank and Junior to let them know Papa had passed. They both were at my house in minutes. They, along with Anitha, sat with me in my room for close to an hour. I didn't want to talk. I just wanted to cry. But still they sat. They comforted me and encouraged me. They sang and prayed and hugged me tight. As they were leaving, Pastor Umba, his wife, and our head pastor, Eunice, came to the door. They gave me hugs and offered their condolences. Again we sang and prayed. The next morning, even before I was out of bed, another pastor and his wife came to the house. Their visit was followed by another, this time members from church, and then another and another and another. All of the teachers from school came. The custodial staff. The praise and worship team from church. Women from the neighborhood. The bus drivers. My friend Joseph stayed and watched over me all day, making sure I ate and drank and had enough hugs and a shoulder to cry on. The introverted American side of me wanted to go in my room and lock the door, but the little girl who had just lost her Papa and was thousands of miles away from her family inside of me felt great comfort from the presence of so many visitors. My family away from family.
The memorial service for Papa will be this Saturday, just four days before I arrive home. There was no way to know that this would be happening when we booked our flights. I know that. But still, I hate that I won't be there to celebrate his life and mourn his passing in the presence of my whole family. Thankfully, I will be there shortly after. After the dust has settled and the extended family has gone home, the grief will still remain. Hugs will still need to be given, tears will need to be shed, and stories will need to be shared.
While we don't celebrate Thanksgiving here in Tanzania, I am still finding myself reflecting on all that I have to be thankful for this year. I am thankful for my family, both in America and here in Tanzania. I am thankful for my Papa's life. I am thankful for my health. I am thankful for the support I have received to be able to follow God's calling for my life. And I am thankful, especially now, that this trip home is happening when it is. I pray that your Thanksgiving is, like my Papa's life, full of love, laughter, good food, and hugs.
Mungu Akubariki,
Allee
Papa
I published my blog last Monday morning and in the evening I got a text from my mom that Papa was doing worse. His blood pressure was low and he had a fever. I called her. She was at the hospice center with him and my grandma and she said that it wasn't going to be much longer. "His body is here, but his spirit is gone." she told me. "I think he's there visiting you in Tanzania. Look for him, ok? In the children. In the rain. Even in the mosquitos." I laughed softly as tears filled my eyes. She asked me about my day and what was going on here. I told her stories about the kids and we laughed. She was in the middle of a sentence when she suddenly said "I have to go." and hung up the phone. I knew that was it.
My grandfather, Carman Ragatz II, passed away peacefully on November 12, 2018. He was 90 years old. He lived a long life full of love, laughter, good food, and bear hugs. I am incredibly blessed that out of the many people in the world, God chose him to be my Papa. That I got to be a witness and receiver of God's love through him for the past 25 years.
I texted Frank and Junior to let them know Papa had passed. They both were at my house in minutes. They, along with Anitha, sat with me in my room for close to an hour. I didn't want to talk. I just wanted to cry. But still they sat. They comforted me and encouraged me. They sang and prayed and hugged me tight. As they were leaving, Pastor Umba, his wife, and our head pastor, Eunice, came to the door. They gave me hugs and offered their condolences. Again we sang and prayed. The next morning, even before I was out of bed, another pastor and his wife came to the house. Their visit was followed by another, this time members from church, and then another and another and another. All of the teachers from school came. The custodial staff. The praise and worship team from church. Women from the neighborhood. The bus drivers. My friend Joseph stayed and watched over me all day, making sure I ate and drank and had enough hugs and a shoulder to cry on. The introverted American side of me wanted to go in my room and lock the door, but the little girl who had just lost her Papa and was thousands of miles away from her family inside of me felt great comfort from the presence of so many visitors. My family away from family.
The memorial service for Papa will be this Saturday, just four days before I arrive home. There was no way to know that this would be happening when we booked our flights. I know that. But still, I hate that I won't be there to celebrate his life and mourn his passing in the presence of my whole family. Thankfully, I will be there shortly after. After the dust has settled and the extended family has gone home, the grief will still remain. Hugs will still need to be given, tears will need to be shed, and stories will need to be shared.
While we don't celebrate Thanksgiving here in Tanzania, I am still finding myself reflecting on all that I have to be thankful for this year. I am thankful for my family, both in America and here in Tanzania. I am thankful for my Papa's life. I am thankful for my health. I am thankful for the support I have received to be able to follow God's calling for my life. And I am thankful, especially now, that this trip home is happening when it is. I pray that your Thanksgiving is, like my Papa's life, full of love, laughter, good food, and hugs.
Mungu Akubariki,
Allee
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