Walk to the beat of a different drummer.

“I really had fun being your grandmother! I left a box for you full of “stuff” from my life. I hope you enjoy going through it. May it teach you that it is okay to “walk to a different drummer.” Love your parents and each other, but most of all love and trust God.“

2002 was the hardest year of my life. My step lost it’s pep. The world lost a little of it’s brightness. My grandmother was taken to heaven.

My grandmother was a tenacious, stubborn, loving, holy woman.

One day she led a calm life as the devoted wife of a Baltimore City police officer and mother of four who enjoyed directing local theatre productions. And then Roe vs. Wade happened and she became a pro-life warrior.

She believed in people. She organized people. She inspired people. She was the kind of woman people didn’t say “no” to. She gave all she had to give and then she gave some more.

When she died, I would spend hours Googling her in vain attempts to keep her memory vibrant in my mind. There were many articles and many pictures, but one article still rests in the back of my mind today. I read it every now and then because it characterized her so… perfectly.

Marilyn arrives late for our lunch appointment, her ample silhouette filling the door. Outside it is a blistering white summer noon; inside, darkness and plush chairs. She makes her way to the table leaning lightly on her cane, souvenir of the stroke two years ago. The waitresses know her (“Hiya, Marilyn, hon, howya doin’?”). Marilyn asks for a table for three; she has scheduled a second luncheon meeting with someone else later. Marilyn doesn’t have a lot of spare time.

Once seated, she begins laying out on the table her luncheon necessities: a smoky-transparent pill case, with yellow, orange, and gray pills; an insulin injection kit; a pack of cigarettes. A cigarette comes first; as the blue smoke curls overhead, Marilyn’s latest meeting has begun.

A few years ago, near the tenth anniversary of her death, I was finally able to go through that box of “stuff” she left for her grandchildren. It was filled with newspaper articles, artifacts from that one time she ran for Congress (because of course), photos from her many arrests at peaceful sit-ins, character references for court cases to drop those charges…

But it was also filled with thank you letters from all the woman she helped, baby pictures representing all the lives she helped saved, family photos, birthday cards from her grandchildren, local newspaper articles about our accomplishments…

She taught me a lot of things about faith and family and life. And all the things I remember were confirmed by what she left us in that box.

Walking to the beat of a different drummer can be scary, but it can also be wonderful.

Never be afraid to stand for what you know is right.

Sometimes you need to be a voice for the voiceless.

Sometimes you need to be love where there is no love.

Sometimes you need to help someone stand when they feel like they have no legs.

Most people might think you’re crazy at times, but there will always be people who still think you’re pretty great.

And so when I left my safe and secure job at the beginning of 2015 , the only job I’d known for the last twelve and a half years, and began working for a small non-profit where the mission is to spread the love of Jesus Christ… I felt a little crazy. But I knew it would be okay. I knew it would be more than okay. And I felt like my grandmother would be proud.

“Can you imagine it?” Marilyn asks, angry and amused at the same time. “They’re afraid someone will take advantage of them. Who cares? I’d be afraid that someone who really needs my help would get by. I don’t care if some people take advantage. I’m not going to miss your baby.” Her finger jabs for emphasis.

That is the life I want to live — one filled with selfless giving and love.

So I’m walking to the beat of a different drummer.

This post is part of the #BISsisterhood Link-Up: Family.