Dear Grandma,

I have given clothes away to the poor, but not the way you did it.

I saw you collect our outgrown clothes from Ma, wash each piece by hand, iron them carefully, fold them neatly and personally bring them to their homes.

I have visited the poor in their homes, but not the way you did it.

You went daily and always by foot, visiting each family by hobbling those long distances to their homes on your painful bound feet, helping to bathe the bedridden and cook for the sick.

I have enjoyed new clothes, but not the way you did it.

Ma bought the best materials and sewed love into all those samfoos she made for you, right down to the last frog button, but you gave all these best clothes away to the poor because to you, the joy came from seeing their eyes light up.

I have given money to the poor, but not the way you did it.

All the money that your children gave you, every cent of it, you gave it away so that those who could not afford it would still have an education and a church to call their own.

I have a university degree and can influence people, but not the way you did it. You were not even educated and yet even those in faraway China know your name because you remembered them and built schools for them.

I help to clean up the church, but not the way you did it.

Even when you were very old, you disregarded your ‘Church Elder’ label and daily swept the church grounds as you believed that God’s house must be as clean as your own.

I remember to care for my loved ones now and then, but not the way you did it.

I saw you each day at the crack of dawn, kneeling by the bedroom window and praying for each of your loved ones by name.

No wonder when you left us for heaven, I saw the strangest group of people at your funeral.

The bishops and pastors, church leaders and members, locals and foreigners, neighbours and friends, family members …and strangers.

They were unknown to us but they must have known you. If not, why did they collapse next to your coffin and cry and cry and cry?

You knew them, didn’t you, Grandma?

They must have been the poor that you loved and treated as family. They miss you and so do I.

See you in heaven,

Your ‘not-up-to-scratch’ grandaughter,
Lin