The Angels are Coming

My grandma, Ethel Schmid (Mimi), was one of a kind. Probably because God knew that people just wouldn't know what to do with more than one of her. She was sassy, outspoken, feisty, and owned a whopping sense of humor. She was a faithful example of a true servant. Her hands prepared marvelous meals, her feet hastened to help others, she offered words of encouragement, and spoke her mind in a way that made you sit up straight when you were around her. Mimi never sugarcoated, she always told you what you knew but maybe didn't want to hear. She wasn't always the easiest person to get along with, she didn't always have patience, but she was always quick to make things right. 

If it couldn't be done perfectly by Mimi, it couldn't be done at all by anybody. She was a true artist, and took pride in doing things the right way. Three hours of every morning were dedicated to applying makeup, fixing hair, and picking out an outfit. Yet, I have never seen her look so beautiful as when she lay there at the end of her life, full of peace, waiting for the angels to come take her away. She will be forever remembered by friends and family, and probably by that nice restaurant where she sent the food back a billion times. She was a person you just don't forget. 

In the last weeks of her life, she was a witness to all those around her of God's love and grace. She told the gospel straight to her nurse, asking her if Jesus was her Savior. When the nurse replied, "sometimes," Mimi fired right back, "get with the program." She told us over and over, "I have such peace," and her hand would reach out for yours. She was hesitant to take the morphine that would make her passing easier. When the doctor questioned her, she quietly explained, "I want to see the angels come." I have no doubt that she did. Heaven is rejoicing, and she is home at last.

We love you Mimi, and we miss you.