My beloved grandmother died a little over a year ago at 92 years old. I still miss her like crazy. So often I'll think of some little thing she would have taken delight in, especially with all of our toddler's recent antics, and find myself reaching for the phone...only to remember she's not here anymore to share those things with. With time, it's gotten easier not to cry at just the mention of her name. In fact, I'm able to talk with others about her with no tears whatsoever now, not because I've forgotten her, but more because I know where she is, and I just have this sense of peace and contentment about her knowing she's in heaven. I also have this deep gratefulness to the Lord for having allowed me to be a part of that woman's life. For the numerous things she taught me over the years, especially that deep, abiding love for our Lord. She was probably the single biggest influence in my early life, because...well, because she was grandma. And a wonderful one at that. The best in the world, if you ask my siblings or I. And numerous other cousins and extended family. She really was an amazing woman, and left a remarkable legacy of faith.
Tonight at dinner, my son asked out of the blue what had become of GG's old apartment at her retirement place. I could suddenly picture her there in that cozy little place where she lived those last few years, her eyes lighting up when we came to visit her from two States away, and finding out from friends that were visiting her apartment just then that she'd been anticipating our visit for weeks. I felt such a longing to see her again that tears choked my throat and my chest grew tight instantly. Then I thought about how someone else was probably living in that apartment now, and we probably wouldn't know it if we saw it, and told my son just that. It made me want to cry for missing her.
But then, I think about where she is now. What she is experiencing in the presence of the Lord she was so longing to see. How she'd been faithful in ministry with the folks in her retirement home up until the day she left this old world for her eternal home. I think about the mansion I will visit her in one day. How I hope to see again that warm sweet expression she always got when we came in the door to her house. That delight, that love just shining out of her eyes. I thought about how she loved to hear about everything that had happened since last time we spoke, and loved hearing all the cute kid stories, even if she'd already heard them before. How she called all the babies 'lover' or 'precious' in this cute and affectionate little way that was unique to her, and just couldn't seem to get enough of seeing and holding them.
I thought about how most of what I know and understand about the Lord and His Word can be traced back to her somehow, either by directly instilling it in us, or by affirming what we'd been taught at home. Many long talks even as a young child come to memory, where she would gently guide my little heart towards the Lord and His way of seeing things. How she taught all us kids the 23rd Psalm and the Lord's Prayer when we would stay over with her on school breaks and for weeks during the summer. How she had such a gentle way of advising us about what God's word had to say on something that we didn't even realize she was preaching to us...or perhaps she wasn't. Perhaps it was more a case of her just being such a willing vessel, that she could be used of the Lord to say even the hardest things to us, and it would get through.
So many things we learned at her table, under her tutelage. Spiritual insights, and just practical skills for this life like sewing, looking things up in dictionaries (when we played Scrabble with her), gardening, plant identification in the woods. I remember picking berries, apples, pears and strawberries with her countless times, often 'putting up' batches of jams and jellies in her little kitchen at the old homestead. Or making fruit leather in her dehydrator. Making forts in her Rhododendron bush. Climbing the trees in her yard.
The love and care she put into everything she did with us or for us was so prevalent, even though her cooking never did taste that great, just sharing her company made you feel warm and well cared for anyway. Her baking and her hot breakfasts were another story. She made the best pancakes. Usually served with Postum or tea, and lots of homemade jam for the pancakes. I think about the cross country road trip she and I took when I moved away for a year before college. How she was there for me for so many pivotal parts of my life, always ready to listen, pray or rejoice at all the appropriate moments. How I was truly blessed to still have her in my life in my 30's. How happy I am that she got to see our youngest son as a baby before she left. How little old men still proposed to her in her old age because she was just so nice to everyone, and they thought they'd been singled out.
I will always think of my grandma with a smile. There may a few tears mixed in, but always I will think of her and all the love she poured out into the lives of those around her, and I will always be thankful I was one of those she loved. I will always think back to all that she taught me, because so often, she got it right! I also hope to one day be the same type of grandmother to my grandchildren, and to live the kind of life for the Lord that leaves such a lasting legacy as Grandma's did.
Love you always, Grams.
Becky
Tonight at dinner, my son asked out of the blue what had become of GG's old apartment at her retirement place. I could suddenly picture her there in that cozy little place where she lived those last few years, her eyes lighting up when we came to visit her from two States away, and finding out from friends that were visiting her apartment just then that she'd been anticipating our visit for weeks. I felt such a longing to see her again that tears choked my throat and my chest grew tight instantly. Then I thought about how someone else was probably living in that apartment now, and we probably wouldn't know it if we saw it, and told my son just that. It made me want to cry for missing her.
But then, I think about where she is now. What she is experiencing in the presence of the Lord she was so longing to see. How she'd been faithful in ministry with the folks in her retirement home up until the day she left this old world for her eternal home. I think about the mansion I will visit her in one day. How I hope to see again that warm sweet expression she always got when we came in the door to her house. That delight, that love just shining out of her eyes. I thought about how she loved to hear about everything that had happened since last time we spoke, and loved hearing all the cute kid stories, even if she'd already heard them before. How she called all the babies 'lover' or 'precious' in this cute and affectionate little way that was unique to her, and just couldn't seem to get enough of seeing and holding them.
I thought about how most of what I know and understand about the Lord and His Word can be traced back to her somehow, either by directly instilling it in us, or by affirming what we'd been taught at home. Many long talks even as a young child come to memory, where she would gently guide my little heart towards the Lord and His way of seeing things. How she taught all us kids the 23rd Psalm and the Lord's Prayer when we would stay over with her on school breaks and for weeks during the summer. How she had such a gentle way of advising us about what God's word had to say on something that we didn't even realize she was preaching to us...or perhaps she wasn't. Perhaps it was more a case of her just being such a willing vessel, that she could be used of the Lord to say even the hardest things to us, and it would get through.
So many things we learned at her table, under her tutelage. Spiritual insights, and just practical skills for this life like sewing, looking things up in dictionaries (when we played Scrabble with her), gardening, plant identification in the woods. I remember picking berries, apples, pears and strawberries with her countless times, often 'putting up' batches of jams and jellies in her little kitchen at the old homestead. Or making fruit leather in her dehydrator. Making forts in her Rhododendron bush. Climbing the trees in her yard.
The love and care she put into everything she did with us or for us was so prevalent, even though her cooking never did taste that great, just sharing her company made you feel warm and well cared for anyway. Her baking and her hot breakfasts were another story. She made the best pancakes. Usually served with Postum or tea, and lots of homemade jam for the pancakes. I think about the cross country road trip she and I took when I moved away for a year before college. How she was there for me for so many pivotal parts of my life, always ready to listen, pray or rejoice at all the appropriate moments. How I was truly blessed to still have her in my life in my 30's. How happy I am that she got to see our youngest son as a baby before she left. How little old men still proposed to her in her old age because she was just so nice to everyone, and they thought they'd been singled out.
I will always think of my grandma with a smile. There may a few tears mixed in, but always I will think of her and all the love she poured out into the lives of those around her, and I will always be thankful I was one of those she loved. I will always think back to all that she taught me, because so often, she got it right! I also hope to one day be the same type of grandmother to my grandchildren, and to live the kind of life for the Lord that leaves such a lasting legacy as Grandma's did.
Love you always, Grams.
Becky
:: ::
The topmost picture of grandma was one taken while I was driving (yeah, scary, huh?) on a long road trip, just me and my grandma. We were somewhere in Montana at the time, and it was hot outside. I was actually moving (by car) from Washington to Minnesota not long after Graduation from High School. Grandma offered to ride over there with me, and inisted we put a man's fishing hat in the back window "So we'll look like we have a fella riding with us". We listened to Christian music and the Bible on Cassette on the drive over and stopped to see a few sights. I took that particular picture while driving, because she'd borrowed my neon pink sunglasses. The trip was one of the most memorable times I ever had with her. Good memories, good memories.
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