Last week, I lost my top subscriber. I know I’m supposed to be tough and keep writing regardless, but blogging just isn’t the same without her. She used to comment with astonishing, almost unsettling swiftness. Mere moments after I pressed “publish,” my inbox would ping with her praise. It was an antiphony I miss already.
“Keep writing, keep writing,” she would cheer from afar.
She was not only an encouraging reader; she was a thoughtful one. With a laser-like eye for proper grammar, a taste for quality prose, and a wealth of educational experience, she could very easily have been a blogger’s worst nightmare. But she knew how to give feedback that was truly helpful rather than hurtful. I even invited her to read my manuscripts and proposals, and she never failed to render them better than before.
I admit that, occasionally, I was dismayed when she was the only one to comment on a post. I savored her encouragement, but one devoted reader does not an author make. And so I sometimes sighed when I saw her username accompanying the lone response to a post I’d labored over for weeks.
If I was at times discouraged, though, she never was. She kept reading and responding. She kept challenging and championing me. She never wavered in her confidence that the Lord would use my words for his glory. Would that all writers had such readers!
But now, my blog’s comment sections echo with emptiness.
After an agonizing hospital stay, my maternal grandmother passed into glory last week. Even amid years of horrific pain, she was my biggest cheerleader—reading every blog post, attending every concert she could, and watching for me on our church’s live-stream from across the country. She gifted my book to her worship leader and told everyone she could about it. When I married Billy, she “adopted” him. She made sure to watch all of his sermons and text him thoughtful and heartfelt feedback. Although not a cat person, she gifted my cat the only toy she’s ever really liked. When she found out I was expecting, she showered Martin in love (and Carter’s clothing) from afar.
When I found out that my grandma was a cheerleader during her school years, it was not surprising. One of my last conversations with her was about a children’s book I’m working on. As usual, she pushed me to keep going while offering edits that made the manuscript better than before. Her absence leaves a void previously filled with effusive exhortations to press onward and upward.
I am reminded of Hebrews 3:13: “But encourage each other daily, while it is still called today, so that none of you is hardened by sin’s deception” (CSB). May we all encourage each other with such devotion while we still have time.
Ever productive and pragmatic, my grandma would take satisfaction in me continuing to type away, even through tears. But you should know that it really is not the same without her here.
Ryanne Molinari 