The Gift of Grace

Norma Grace Odom was born into privilege. I don’t mean that as an accusation—as it might be interpreted today. She was blessed to be born to hard working, salt of the earth, educated parents. Her mom and dad (and aunts) were college graduates. That may not sound like a big deal—but these women got their degrees in the 1920s! And so it followed that Norma Grace also went to college in the 1940s, which was a little less unusual.

Her dad, JW Reid, was a teacher and a renowned debate coach. In the summers he built small houses to rent or sell. He bought land and grew cotton. Milton remembers picking cotton as a kid. The Reids were well off enough to travel and see some of the wonders in our country. In the 30s they leased some land from the National Forest and built a true log cabin by hand.

I think of them as West Texas royalty. Genteel but with hands calloused by work. In those days Lubbock millionaires went to the bank in overalls. And just because the land that JW grew cotton on happened to be where Lubbock grew, and because of his hard work and conservative handling of money, JW became one of those wind-toughened millionaires.

Grace, a woman of the 50s and raised in conservative West Texas, gave herself to that roll of wife and mother that was expected of her. Vernon is an amazing, brilliant man; also an exacting man of high expectations who could be critical and controlling—which has lessened somewhat in his old age. I have often wondered what that had to have been like for her who came into marriage as a single child from a warm and cozy childhood. Many times Vernon has told us that if he hadn’t come along she probably never would have gotten married, even though she stole him away from a ‘much prettier girl’ (his words.) Did he ever tell her that? I hope not, but it’s possible.

Whatever the inner dynamics of her life with Vernon, she loved him and yielded herself to the Lord in it, lovingly serving her husband and three sons, Warren, David and the one I got, Milton. I never saw bitterness or anger. She had the light of Christ in her. She loved scripture and loved sharing Jesus with others. Even after she and Vernon built their own ‘cabin’ in the New Mexico mountains, she wasn’t content to settle into easy retirement.

Out of that a mission of many years developed in Chiapas, Mexico. She and Vernon built a clinic and hosted dentists and doctors and evangelists. Thousands of people were touched through this ministry.

Eventually though Grace began to slow down. It became apparent that something wasn’t quite right. She got lost in Target. She quit talking very much. The house slipped into disarray.

Vernon could see the writing on the wall. He moved them to a comprehensive retirement community where they could live independently for as long as possible. He took care of Grace as she continued to decline, eventually dressing her and bathing her. She began to wander outside at night in her nightgown. It was time for her to be moved to the memory loss care facility.

Vernon tirelessly served her there, sitting with her through her meals, and finally feeding her when it came to that. I had the privilege of standing in his stead for a short while so that Milton could take him to the cabin one more time. At this time she would still sometimes know who we were, or maybe sing a line of a hymn with me.

 I could remember who she really was. But the very polite gentleman who ate at the same table as her—who had he been? How easy it is to see these shriveled up men and women, some who acted strangely or stared blankly, and not remember that they used to be men and women of stature who commanded respect.

Vernon and Grace celebrated their 70th wedding anniversary just over a year ago. The ladies took great care to braid Grace’s hair and dress her in her prettiest clothes—it was precious to see how excited they were. They put her in a special wheelchair/bed and a van brought her over to the room where we gathered, children, grandchildren, great grandchildren. Her body lay on that bed in the midst of us, crooked and bent, mouth gaped, but some life in the eyes. My son, Joseph, who hadn’t seen her in many years, went outside and wept. My grandson, 3-year-old James, stared at her, as did 4-year-old Samuel. Spontaneously Samuel came and kissed her cheek, but James backed away from her—it was scary.

It is scary. And painful. This year it seemed she was truly already gone. Her body withered; curling up into itself. And because of covid-19, even Vernon couldn’t go to help feed her; no one could visit her. They allowed him to see her twice from outside between March and September.

When I prayed for her, I asked the Lord, surely you are with her, she is not alone inside that body, right? I wondered, is she actually already with Him and her body just hasn’t got the message yet?

Last week, on Saturday, December 5, 2020, her body finally got the message.

Dear December,This is one of your good gifts. Norma Grace Odom will be celebrating Christmas with the Savior Himself. All of the beautiful things of this season are mere shadows of the beauty she is experiencing right now. We are so grateful.