My Eulogy for Grandma

By request. Many who couldn't attend Grandma's funeral wanted to be able to read the eulogy I wrote and delivered. If any of you wanted to meet Grandma, this is who she is.

Hello and welcome. Thank you all for making time to join my family in our celebration of my grandmother’s life.

Edith Irene Wedel was born on January 30, 1930, to a poor family that already had two kids. She was the baby, the one everybody pretty much doted on. A lot changed over her life. Ninety-dfive years is a long time. She was born in the depression. She remembered the tough, challenging days of her childhood and even had memories of the Dust Bowl. Her older brother, Uncle Bud, left home to serve in World War II, and Grandma told stories of food rationing and gardening and all the people of her community rallying to support the war effort.

She witnessed the technology boom of the last century. Grandma grew up with a party line. She had a rotary dial phone. A touch tone phone. Then she had a smart phone. She grew up going to nickelodeon movies and watching black and white television, and toward the end of her life she had her very own Netflix account, although she preferred to watch the Game Show Network. With the volume as high as it would go. All the time.

Grandma was an oddity in many ways and a surprise the rest of the time. She was a child of the depression so she was resourceful and resilient and stubborn and hard-working, but she was also a creative person, crafty and artistic and imaginative and passionately opinionated.

I don’t think Grandma had mild feelings about any of her many opinions. There was no middle ground, whether you’re talking about some commercial she saw on television that bothered her or the latest strategic layout of the furniture in her home.

During his freshman year of college, Andy lived in the attic of Grandma and Grandpa’s house, where I believe Uncle Tom also lived during his freshman year of college. Andy would come down to go to his early morning class, and Grandma and Grandpa would have some headline from the paper or the news that was the Topic of the Day—something they heard that they were less than pleased about. And it would remain the Topic of the Day for the whole day, because they’d still be talking about it when he got home that night.

I asked the family for some stories about Grandma, and one thing came up over and over and over. Grandma loved playing cards. I remember all the family gatherings where the cards came out and the laughter started and didn’t stop.

Card games were family events, and Grandma was always excited to include the kids as soon as they were old enough to play. I heard a story about a time Grandma tried to teach Andrea and Matt and Mike how to play Spoons. I’m not sure how much blood was shed, but Spoons ended up outlawed from that day on—for the sake of the furniture I suspect.

During Christmas and Thanksgiving, everybody would gather and play Crazy Bridge. I never really knew what made it less sane than ordinary Bridge, but I didn’t ask questions. It was wild, chaotic, crazy and we all loved to play. The tricky part, however—well, Grandma was just a tiny bit competitive. Okay, a lot competitive. So she ended up sitting out for many of our Crazy Bridge marathons, not because she graciously wanted to make sure everybody else could play but she secretly just didn’t want to lose.

That competitive streak carried on into later years where she was bound and determined to beat everybody at the assisted living home at bingo. She would often call after a game to tell us what she won, whether it was a bottle of root beer or a candy bar. She was quite proud.

Andrea summed it up nicely, I think, when she told me, “Those games weren’t just about playing cards. They were about being together, laughing, and making memories that will stay with us forever. Grandma had a way of turning simple things like card games into the most fun, unforgettable moments of our childhood.”

Another memory that came up a lot was all the years making Christmas candy. When I was a young kid, it was a highlight for me. Mom and Grandma and I would shop all the deals at all the grocery stores, and we’d sequester ourselves in her kitchen on Lulu Street and crank out batch after batch of old-fashioned fudge, Hello Dolly bars, toffee cookies, and that truly spiteful red peanut candy that ruined everybody’s day every year we made it. Every year I got to do something different because she would let me do more the older I got, the taller I got, the less likely I was to chop off a finger.

As I was preparing for this talk, I was trying to think if Grandma had a life verse. It’s kind of a traditional thing, to pick a Scripture as the theme of your life. I’m not sure Grandma had one, but then she hadn’t ever been traditional about anything.

So I was thinking, maybe I could pick a verse for her, and the first one I thought of was Isaiah 43:19: “For I am about to do something new.”

Yes, I know that’s the Lord talking, but I kind of feel like that was Grandma too. She was always up to something new. I mean, the woman retired 37 times. And every time she went back to work she did something different. She was a secretary and a bookkeeper and an assistant and a receptionist. She worked in the church office at the old location. She worked at Cowboy Cleaners. She worked at doctor’s offices in medical records. She worked at Pennypower. And the last job she worked, I think was volunteer. She got a job with the city teaching “old people” how to use their social security benefits. Grandma was nearly 80 at the time, and the old people were in their 60s.

But I also thought about Psalm 40:3, “He has given me a new song to sing.”

I have noticed something about getting older. The older we get, the less we like new things. New things mean that you have to keep learning, that you can’t stay the same. And that was something unique and special about Grandma. She loved new things. She loved to learn. She got computer certifications, and she maintained email address databases. She had a smartphone and a Kindle and Facebook portal thing.

She loved going to Bible studies with my mom where she memorized scripture. She loved this church. She loved the people here. She was so thankful for all that God had done in her life. I don’t have time to tell the whole story, but my family is at this church because of my grandmother.

Grandma loved life, and she lived it full throttle—for better or for worse. She loved baked beans from Hog Wild, gyros from Arby’s, and the sundaes from Spangle’s that come with their meal deal (she pretended to want the actual food, but she really only wanted the ice cream).

And she loved rearranging her furniture. That brought a joy to her that I’m not sure I will ever understand, and she roped every child and grandchild and neighbor within arm’s reach into her furniture rearranging schemes.

Grandma loved people. She built a gang wherever she went and collected friends in every era of life. Most recently, she assembled this crew of sassy ladies at her assisted living facility. They would eat their meals together and talk back to the nurses, and Grandma even got them all to sing hymns with her even though she was the only one who knew the words.

She was a good grandma. When I was little she created fantasy scavenger hunts for me and my brother. She made us costumes and wrote clues for us, and we would go on epic quests all over the Lulu house, usually to find a special treasure somewhere. I mean, it was a mood ring. But when you’re 7, mood rings are magical.

She bragged on all of us nonstop. I’m sure everyone who lived around her knew all about everything her kids and grandkids and great grandkids had done, and I know she made everyone try to spot the differences between Matt and Mike's photographs. She loved being a great grandmother and had a special relationship with Bree and Chase and Noah and Cissy.

Grandma was fun and funny and feisty, and she loved us with everything she had. The best way she knew how. She didn't always get it right—but who does?

It may not have been her life verse, but when I think of my grandma I think of Titus 3:4-7.

But—When God our Savior revealed his kindness and love, he saved us, not because of the righteous things we had done, but because of his mercy. He washed away our sins, giving us a new birth and new life through the Holy Spirit. He generously poured out the Spirit upon us through Jesus Christ our Savior. Because of his grace he made us right in his sight and gave us confidence that we will inherit eternal life.

Grandma always loved new things, and that’s what she’s up to right now. New things in her new life. Really new things, things she’s never done before. New friends, new faces—and a lot of old ones she’d been missing for a while—like grandpa and her mom, Grandma Great, and my mom. But more than new experiences, Grandma herself is new now.

And while I know we’ll miss her, I can’t be sad. The only thing I’m sad about is missing out, because as much fun as Crazy Bridge was down here, I guarantee it’s a hundred times better in heaven. But I’m betting they probably still can’t play Spoons.

We are grateful for each and every one of you. Thank you all for being here.