So excited to introduce a new-to-me writer to you! Gabe Wheeler is a passionate young man in my home church who is doing great things for God. He is not ashamed of the Gospel of Christ for it is the power of God unto salvation…Whoa…that’s Paul isn’t it? Carried away for a moment! Well, that’s how impacting Gabe is when you get around him and his twin brother, Jacob. He is a writer, an accomplished drummer, is a member of the band “Renowned” (which is fantastic btw!) has his own blog here (it’s under construction but is still open!) and with others, has started a bible study group at the public high school! I just know you will enjoy this story and the story behind the story. Thanks for letting me share it Gabe.
The past few months have been absolutely chocked full of new things. Good and bad. Although it would probably be interesting to tell you everything, I simply refuse. There is just too much. The past several weeks have been an absolute horror story for me. Early this school semester, I made the choice to switch over to online public school. It has been a bit of a challenge, especially with trying to catch up with a few months’ worth of material while still trying to also keep up with the class.
But in the middle of it, something pretty cool happened. I was assigned a Descriptive Writing essay in which I had to talk about some type of life event in a very expressive manner. After several failed attempts, I finally chose my topic for the assignment. Do or Die. It was the story about the day my grandma passed away. It is probably one of the most vivid memories I possess to this day, and I will NEVER forget it.
It wasn’t just the fact that I had lost someone so special to me that it sticks in my mind, but also how God worked everything out for the good in that situation. (Romans 8:28) We knew God’s hand was in the entire event and He gave us peace to make it through. I know that one day we will see her again!
After sending in the assignment, my English teacher quickly emailed back expressing just how much she loved hearing the story. I was surprised. It never really occurred to me that the writing really was any good. I am hard on myself when it comes to writing. My teacher went on to say how she was writing a book about teen experiences. From what I can tell, the book consists of stories written by teen students about dark and depressing experiences in their lives. But MY writing, she said, was a message of Hope.
She went on to express how this kind of piece would help her book by shining a ray of Hope in people’s lives. Somehow, a small piece of writing for English class has now turned into an outreach to anyone who reads the book!
I thank God for this opportunity to reach people, especially those who are going through loss. He does so many great things for me, beyond what I can even imagine. So without further ado, here is my writing. Hope you enjoy!
It was just seven days after my birthday when my life drastically changed. Though all of humanity is destined and guaranteed to experience the seasons of life, I had not once expected things to become so different; especially in the middle of one of the best times of my life.
The innocence of my youth had not yet taught me how to value and cherish each moment I had with those I loved. It turns out that death is a bitter winter season. Being about seven years old, my mind had always been occupied with what new toy would come next. That sunny winter day in February, in the presence of my grandparents, I unknowingly sat in the floor putting together the last gift I would ever receive from my grandma. Soon, just seven days later, the aroma of perfume that filled the air when my grandma was near, would cease to exist. I have never forgotten the day she stepped from earth and landed in heaven.
On that Sunday afternoon, my family hustled to get ready for church. We lived in a small mobile home two miles out from the west side of the city. Just a mile from our house to the east was a small municipal airport. Most of our extended family lived on our lane, which was a dead-end road with a grassy field on each side of the road. My grandparents lived next door which created a situation where we could frequently walk across the small stretch of yard to get to their house. As far out as we lived in the country, we knew it took about thirty minutes to get to the old country church in Fairfax, Indiana.
The road to church was always a pleasure to drive on. The road flowed with the rolling hills and turns. As young as my siblings and I were, we always treated these roads as if they were a winding rolling coaster racing through the billowing hillside. Each hilltop we drove over exposed the entire country-side on our left.
That evening we pulled into the sun-lit parking lot, behind the red brick church that sat on the edge of a steep hill. My grandparents and my family always showed up early, many times before any other cars existed in the parking lot. That afternoon, the air was filled with laughter as my mom and grandma talked through the car window. After chattering on for quite some time, we opened the car doors, stepped out, and entered the balcony covered entrance. Inside the building on this night, our lives would take a totally different turn.
Church took off in full swing. The praise team sang songs of worship, and the musicians played their instruments. The spirit of God filled the sanctuary of Sanders Pentecostal Church to the point where the hair on the back of your neck would stand up or even chills would run up your back.
As church service progressed, my siblings and I went about our usual business crawling around underneath the old wooden church pews. We had two good reasons for doing this: The church pews provided “secret access” to get to my grandparents behind us. Also, on many church nights we would lay under the aged pews gazing at the hardened gum that littered the underside of the seat. There were a variety of colors, and being young, we were mesmerized by the diversity of their semblance and shape.
After checking to make sure no new pieces found their way under the seat, I climbed up into the pew. My grandma had disappeared from her chair. She walked down the right side of the church in between the pews and the wall, and then stepped up onto the green carpeted platform and took grandpa by the hand. Following her off the platform, he was led around the church a few times holding hands. She had never done something like this before. After returning to her seat, she told my grandpa she was okay, after he asked her if something was wrong.
Moments later, as I looked back over the pew, grandma slid to a sitting position and then gracefully laid down on the pew. The church quickly gathered, surrounding the section, praying and wondering what happened. On his knees yet still looking over her, my grandpa was saying with growing desperation, “Glenna? Glenna? Can you hear me? Glenna?”
All of the youth were escorted down the stairs in the back of the church and into the cold church basement until emergency medical services arrived. We walked down the long, white, narrow hallway towards the Sunday school class on the end. I did not worry about my grandma. A girl close to my age walked up behind me later that night and suggested that my grandma might have died. I did not believe her. We were not in that classroom for much time after that.
The youth minister came down and took us to his house for part of the night. It was cold and dark outside by this time. The church stood vacant when we left. When we arrived at his house we slept in a dark room upstairs, wondering if we would be going home to our own beds soon. We heard the floor creaking and in walked the youth minister. Our parents had come to pick us up! Finally! Life would be normal, or so we thought.
All that changed when we entered the car.
Mom was crying, and dad was driving. No words were spoken. Nor was any music being played on the radio. It was dark and snow was drifting down from the sky, appearing just briefly on the windshield before transforming into racing water droplets.
Seeing the tears on my mother’s face I knew from that moment I would never see grandma again.
There were many nights we spent at grandma’s house, but that had come to an end.
We would often set up a tent in the living room and turn out the lights and there she would tell us the story of Noah’s ark. With a quiet, soothing voice she told us of the lady bugs, crickets, and of all the animals that entered the ark. That was how she always put us to sleep.
We would never hear these stories again.
As painful and devastating as it all was to lose someone so special, God made a way for peace in the storm. That night at church, she made her salvation ready. God had His timing, and He took her in that lone, country church building for a reason of His own.
As my parent’s exited the hospital building that night, a soft peaceful snow drifted down from the sky as if it were a gift from God. Though her physical body left the earth in the twinkling of an eye, her memories have been cherished and held captive as a prisoner in our hearts and minds ever since.
Gabriel Wheeler is an ambitious 17 year-old who currently lives in Bloomington, Indiana. When he isn’t playing the drums or aspiring to be a future film-maker, he enjoys to sit down and write about whatever he has on his mind. With Jesus and the ministry at the forefront of his life, Gabriel also spends a lot of time in prayer. He believes God has blessed him with many talents, and he desires to use all of them in some way for the glory of Jesus Christ and to reach lost souls. One of his life goals is to live like Micah 7:8: “Rejoice not against me, O mine enemy: when I fall, I shall arise; when I sit in darkness, the Lord shall be a light unto me.” Be sure and visit his blog, gabewheeler.weebly.com
Sharing with Living Proverbs 31, Modest Mondays, Amaze Me Mondays, Playdates @ the Wellspring, Monday Praises, Monday Musings, Hear it on Sunday, Use it on Monday, Let Me Tell U A Story, Sharing His Beauty, Mama Moments Mondays, Teach Me Tuesdays, Counting our Blessings, UNITE, The Gathering Spot, Testimony Tuesday, Titus 2sdays, Let’s be friends!, Winsome Wednesdays, Raising Homemakers
