We had a cookout in Convoy, Ohio, at my brother Stu’s place. They bought a fixer-upper from the bank a couple months ago, with several acres and a barn and several small buildings, and already they’ve got the place looking nice.

In the afternoon we played volleyball. Stu’s four kids, in their 20s, were leaping and diving and covering the whole court, effortlessly and tirelessly.

I used to be able to do that.

Connor started crawling two weeks ago, and now, he tools around everywhere. Getting into everything. Grabbing. Touching. Inflicting no small amount of anxiety on our cats. He hasn’t caught Jordi or Molly yet, but it’s just a matter of time before he sneaks up on one of them while they’re sleeping. Molly was sleeping peacefully when a baby hand touched her tail. She bolted with maximum haste.

Our house now features numerous barriers. A gate going into the kitchen. A crib blocking this route, boxes here and there, my accordion in yet another place. All to impede mobility.

The little guy continues to change our lives. I’m not sure I’m all that crazy about this crawling stuff. When he just laid in one place, flopping arms and legs but going nowhere–yes, those were the good ol’ days. Days now gone forever.

Tonite we met my brother Stu and his wife, Joyce, at Headwaters Park for the annual Ribfest. I’d never gone to it, but Stu told us of its wonders over Memorial Day, and I felt it behooved us to go. As it turned out, I was overwhelmingly behooved. Tried three different rib samplers, all very good. Got spots all over my orange shirt.

Yes, Ribfest is a worthy event.

I’ve always bragged that my grandma had four brothers who became Nazarene ministers. At Grandma’s funeral yesterday, I discovered that I’ve been wrong. Actually, she had six brothers who became Nazarene ministers. Six out of six.

The last living brother is Doyle, now age 86 and still preaching. He spoke for probably ten minutes at the funeral, just sharing memories of Grandma. I learned a lot. Plus, I had never met Doyle. What a guy! Articulate, very funny, full of energy. He says he’s got his passport to heaven all ready, but he doesn’t plan to board the bus yet. He’s got a lot of living to do.

I always knew Grandma loved reading her Bible. We were told that she has read through the entire Bible 29 times. At least.

I realized that I’ve truly got an enviable heritage. So do all of my cousins who were there. It was sure great seeing them again. Jamie was out from Arizona; her husband, Drake, is in Baghdad training Iraqi troops. He’s been in the military for about 20 years now. Wendy was out from Colorado, with her parents. What a delightful person she is! Brad, a doctor in Oklahoma, just a little bit younger than me, drove out with his family.

My cousin Mike, my best-ever friend, was there. In fact, he lives across the street from where Grandpa and Grandma lived. I always enjoy seeing Mike. We got into way too much mischief to recount here. His son Logan, a marine sniper, served a couple tours in Iraq and experienced lots of stuff he doesn’t care to talk about. He’s out of the military now, and married. Nice kid. Randy’s son-in-law, a West Point grad, just learned that he is being deployed to Iraq for 16 months.

We all lingered in the cemetery for quite a while. Some of us mused, “When will we all get together again?” Grandpa and Grandma were a glue of sorts. We grew up gathering regularly at Grandpa and Grandma’s farmstead. Now they are both gone, and the house is being rented out. The world moves on, and so do we.

We cherish our relationships, but the years pass quickly and we’ve all got our own worlds. But yesterday, at least, we had a few hours to touch base. It was a home-going for Grandma, but a homecoming for her kids and grandkids, and great-grandkids, and great-great grandkids. I loved every minute of it.

About two miles away, at Lutheran Hospital, room 354, my grandma is dying. This may be her last night. That is the wish of her children. And that is most certainly Grandma’s wish. Life support has been removed; bodily functions are shutting down; the morphine dose has been doubled to keep her comfortable. If she doesn’t pass away tonight, mom will meet with her two brothers tomorrow morning to make arrangements to move her to hospice care, because she can’t stay in the hospital another night.

Am I sad? Not really. Grandma is a godly woman, and she has been a tremendous grandma. She had four brothers, all of whom became Nazarene ministers–prominent ones. The Clay name was well-known in Nazarene circles. They might have become United Brethren (my denomination), like Grandpa and Grandma did. But the Nazarenes decided to start a church near the Clay home, and they scooped up those brothers in the process.

Grandpa, a farmer with a great sense of humor, died 11 years ago. I miss him. It was great fun, as a kid, following him out to do the chores–to feed, as he would say, “the giraffes and hippos and elephants and alligators.” Or whatever animals happened to come to mind. He kept himself very well informed about current events. I remember being at his place as a kid and listening as astronauts read Genesis 1 while in orbit, and watching some of the Watergate hearings with him. He loved his Lord, too.

Grandma was the quintessential farmer’s wife. I loved her thin-sliced homemade noodles. Grandpa would kid her, and she’d just scrunch her face and say with mock exasperation, “Oh, Orren.” That was his name. Orren Otto Welker. And Grandma is Helen, a name I’ve never called her because to me, she is only Grandma.

Pam and I saw Grandma a few nights ago. She is clearly dying, and at first, I hardly recognized her without her glasses and teeth. But her mind is sharp; she knows what is going on and is involved in all of the decisions regarding her care. The other morning, she tore off the oxygen mask a nurse put on her. She doesn’t want to be kept alive. She is determined to go to heaven, and the sooner, the better. Don’t try to keep her lingering around. She adamantly refuses to settle for that.

So maybe tonight Grandma will die. That is my hope and prayer. Mom and Dad are praying for that. So are Uncle Marvin and Aunt Janet, who live just a mile from Grandpa and Grandma’s place outside of Van Wert, Ohio. So too, I suspect, are Uncle Mark and Aunt Susie, who arrived today from Boulder, Colo., and were with Grandma tonight.

And now, finally, having written this, with my mind wandering over so many great memories, I find myself choked up. Tears are coming. Sleep peacefully, Grandma. I pray that you awaken in Jesus’ arms.