Isabelle
To be reminded that you’re not alone as you start a new thing, in a new place, goes a long way. On moving day, my grandma found a way to remind me of that all the way from heaven.
We had just reached the end of what had been a very long day of moving into my apartment. It had been a day of unnecessary stressors, courtesy of U-Haul, paired with some necessary stress; the kind you’d expect when moving to a new city to start a new job.
As we sat surrounded by boxes in my fun-sized studio apartment that I like to think matches my fun-sized build, my mom walked in and told me she had just seen a birthday balloon on my neighbor’s door. The name of the girl whose birthday it was, according to the balloon: Isabelle
Isabelle.
My maternal grandmother’s name. The name I’ve already threatened to my sister that I claim as the name of my future daughter, should we ever adopt a girl.
I haven’t met my new neighbor yet, but her name is Isabelle.
My mom - Isabelle’s daughter - smiled through her moving day fatigue, as she said to me, “See, she’s looking out for you.”
My grandma died unexpectedly when I was in fifth grade. Hers was the first loss I ever experienced. Hers is the death I return to whenever I’m asked to explain my call to chaplaincy. I wish I remembered the name of the man who took the time out of his day to pause and be with my tearful, grieving family as we stood in the hospital waiting room after learning my grandma, Isabelle, would soon succumb to the irreversible injuries caused by her aneurysm. But then again, I always say I hope my impact can be like that of this beloved man - I don’t need my name to be remembered. I want how I made people feel, to be remembered. That is one of my most important goals as a chaplain.
It is not lost on me the way in which my grandma found a way to show up on that evening, after a long day of transitioning into a new place, to start a new chapter. I’ve always referred to my three grandparents who are in heaven as my guardian angels. I’ve never doubted that they’ve been watching over me since the day they transitioned from this life to the next. I don’t think I realized just how much I needed to be reminded of my guardian angels in this season until my mom pointed out the name on that birthday balloon. To be reminded that you’re not alone as you start a new thing, in a new place, goes a long way.
My husband and I have been lucky. We’ve never really had to “do” long distance. There was that one summer he had an internship at a church in Birmingham, Michigan. Did you know there was a Birmingham anywhere other than Alabama? We didn’t either until he was placed there. There were holidays celebrated apart when we were dating. And oh yes, there was the month he was in the hospital after the shooting, where I couldn’t visit him because of the pandemic. That makes the looming reality of living in two places hard. We will never know what our attachment style might look like had we not experienced that trauma during the early stages of dating, but I don’t need to in order to know that no matter what, we have each other, and we have a village loving us well from above and around us. Isabelle reminded me of that the other day.
To be reminded that you’re not alone goes a long way. To know you are not alone because the people you’re surrounded by won’t let you forget it, goes a long way.
To be remembered for how you made someone feel (in a positive light) goes a long way.
I hope you, reading this, know that you are not alone. I hope you go out of your way sometime this week to let someone else know they are not alone. If my grandma can do it from heaven, I believe we all can do it from where we are. Lastly, I hope sometime this week, you go out of your way to make someone else feel loved and supported. They may not remember your name, but they will always remember how you made them feel.