MADILL, OKLA. — Lucy, you never got to meet your grandmother, my mom. Mimi.
We found out you were on the way just a few days before she died from pancreatic cancer. At her funeral, your mother was fighting terrible bouts of morning sickness, but we didn’t want to tell anyone what was going on, not yet.
When that time came, I still didn’t want to tell your grandfather, TT. I knew what he’d say. He’d be happy but sad that Mimi wasn’t here. I felt the same way.
Maggie Tryggestad holds her newborn baby sister, Lucy.
Your sister named you. Before we headed to the doctor’s office for the ultrasound, we jokingly asked her for her input. (She always has input; you know that.)
“If it’s a boy, Tom,” she said. “If it’s a girl, Lucy.” Tom is TT’s name, but we still have no idea where she got Lucy. A “Peanuts” special maybe?
When the scan showed that you were female, I called TT, and he asked what we were going to name you. “Well, Maggie says we should name her Lucy,” I said with a chuckle.
“You know that was your mother’s grandmother’s name, right?” he said. “Lucille Puckett.”
I didn’t know that. Your aunt Amy and I always called her Bitty. She lived in a tiny house behind Meemaw and Pawpaw’s farmhouse in Rugby, Tenn. Bitty’s house was covered in doilies, and she always had a full candy dish.
“Your mother would’ve been thrilled with that name,” TT said. I could sense him tearing up through the phone line. I said goodbye, hung up and told your mother, “I think we have to name her Lucy.”
Lucy Tryggestad shows off her Oklahoma City Thunder spirit.
So we decided that you would be Lucille Ann Tryggestad. You share your middle name with Mimi and Rebecca Ann Stafford, Maggie’s babysitter. We’re close friends with Rebecca’s parents, and Maggie was the flower girl in her sister Lauren’s wedding. Rebecca also died of cancer — at the tender age of 20. Both Mimi and Rebecca live on in you.
You were born a week late — and mad as fire that the doctor had served you an eviction notice. You squalled for a solid hour. I should have realized then how much of your grandmother’s fiery spirit you possess. You do things on your own time, when you’re ready.
You’re quiet and sweetly intense, like your mother. But you have my sense of humor. I love that we can make each other laugh uncontrollably, even when we’re stressing through math homework or Bible bowl questions.
Of course, the funniest thing you’ve ever said wasn’t intended to be funny. You were barely 3 and incredibly fussy one night as I was trying to get you ready for bed. I said, “Lucy, you’re not making good choices right now.”
You looked me dead in the eye and hollered, “I’M TOO MAD TO MAKE GOOD CHOICES!” That was 100 percent Mimi. I tried so hard not to laugh. So did your mother, who was down the hall, hiding.
Lucy, tonight you made a very good choice.
Above, Erik Tryggestad hugs his 12-year-old daughter, Lucy, after baptizing her at Pettijohn Springs Christian Camp.
When my phone rang yesterday, and I saw that it was the youth minister calling, I grinned. We talked about this before you left for camp, but you didn’t want to commit right then. It would happen on your time.
The drive from Oklahoma City down to Pettijohn Springs Christian Camp was easy. Your mom finished her medical notes in the car, and then we sang hymns of praise. We sang more with you and your friends at the camp devo, and the words hit me like a boulder.
“I wasn’t made to be tending a grave. I was called by name, born and raised back to life again. I was made for more.”
Then we waded into the swimming pool. As we waited for our turn, a tiny frog swam right between us. Was that a sign? I mean, God did use frogs in the Bible, quite a lot of frogs. Maybe it was a tiny reminder of how God delivers his people from captivity — from Egypt, from bondage, from addiction, from sin.
Or maybe one of your fellow campers chucked a frog into the pool.
When our time arrived, I asked you if you believed that Jesus is the Son of the living God and if you were willing to make him the Lord of your life for the rest of your life. You said yes. Then I immersed you in the name of the Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit. We sang “This is the Day That the Lord Has Made,” and all of your friends jumped in the pool and cheered.
Karen Ann “Mimi” Tryggestad (1969-2013)
Now, as I head back home with your mother and your sister, I think about the name Maggie gave you. Lucille. Light. God created it. Jesus radiates it. It shows us the way. It “shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it” (John 1:5).
You shone brightly tonight, Small Child.
Bright enough that Mimi could see you.
The Tryggestads, Jeanie, Lucy, Erik and Maggie, celebrate Lucy’s baptism at Pettijohn Springs Christian Camp.
ERIK TRYGGESTAD is President and CEO of The Christian Chronicle. Contact erik@christianchronicle.org.
