Family Treasures....

Two of my favorite people:  Gramma and Mom

She has lived upon this earth for nearly 92 years.  She is small and spunky, kind and wise.  Everywhere she goes, people are surprised that she in in her 90’s, and this is because she not only looks younger (and is incredibly fashionable, I might add) but she also acts younger.  Her memory now is sharper than mine, and I am over half her age.  She prays for me and her family on a daily basis, which gives me so much courage during those days when I feel like I’ve been defeated.  During our time together, she has taught me the value of family and the graciousness of God. 

How fortunate I am to be able to call her both my friend and my grandma at the same time.

When I was young, my gramma and I enjoyed taking walks.  I don’t recall what we talked about during those walks (don’t rub it in that her memory is better than mine), but I am sure that our mutual love of cats came up frequently.  When my older sister was in Brownies, Gramma and I would go “shopping” at the grocery store.  Our shopping entailed walking up and down the aisles just to see what was on the shelves.  At Christmas, Gramma would bake all kinds of cookies:  those red and white cookies that are braided and shaped like candy canes, drop cookies with the Hershey’s Kiss in the middle, sugar cookies with frosting and sprinkle decorations, and green cookies shaped like holly leaves with Red Hots scattered on top.  She always let me put the walnuts in a device that chopped the nuts with the turn of a handle.  And she always let me lick the beaters when she’d bake a cake.

When I was a teenager, Gramma supported my sister’s and my “cultural growth” through ballet and music lessons.  In college, after I experienced my first heartbreak, it was Gramma who took me in her arms and told me that it was going to be okay, that God has a plan for me, and that she had been in my shoes as well.  She did find her true love and never looked back at her past romances with regret. 

After college, I began my teaching career at a small private Christian school where I made a mere $11,000 per year.  Because I couldn’t afford to rent my own apartment, I lived in my Gramma’s basement.  We had a very easy relationship.  One that didn’t require a lot of obligations on either side.  And like magic, one of us would suggest going out to dinner when the other one was thinking the exact same thing.  We’d watch Wheel of Fortune and Jeopardy in the evenings, dozing in our chairs or reading magazines at the same time.  She loves my first cat, which I adopted during this time, as much as I do, and 16 years later my cat seems to have some of the same personality traits as my gramma has.  Must be why I love him so much. 

Now that I’m well into adulthood, Gramma still teaches me a lot about life and faith and family.  We can talk about anything.  Sometimes Gramma will tell stories about her past and then interrupt herself with, “Oh, I’ve probably already told you this before.”  The thing is, I love to hear her tell the same stories over and over again.  My hope is that they will become a part of my own flesh, stories that encourage and reaffirm all the traits that I love about my gramma and the rest of my family.  Her stories about my grandfather -- Grappa, as I like to call him – are often about what a wise and well-loved man he was.  She recounts how he was often overlooked in his family, and how Gramma found in him a treasure beyond belief.  When they were newly married, a walk downtown to get ice cream was all that her heart needed to feel his love.  She talks about her father, who was also somewhat of a misunderstood sort in his family, but who became the best mechanic in Coeur d’Alene, and could diagnose a car’s woes by merely listening to it.  I am regaled with stories about what Coeur d’Alene was like so many years ago, with tales of the family’s military travels throughout the years, and stories about all the pets they have had. 

These stories are an utter treasure to me.  They help me understand who she is, who my mom is, and really, who I am.  Talking with my gramma is as easy as those late-night conversations you might have with your best friend during a sleep over.  They are stories and lessons that I want to carry with me all the rest of my life, because they pull me closer to her than a warm winter quilt. 

Just two days ago we were chatting in the living room after having a bit of soup for lunch.  She was lamenting that her walking ability is a bit shaky…she now uses a cane to get around.  She wants to get some therapy to boost her confidence in herself, so that she doesn’t feel so dependent on “that blasted cane.”  And it was during this conversation that she gave me the most beautiful depiction of Jesus, one that will bring me comfort and hope for the rest of my life.  She said that when she is walking through her house and feels fear that she might fall, she asks Jesus to take her by the hand, just like He does every day.

What a blessing and a privilege to have my grandma so richly woven into my life.  I hope that all of you have someone (or many people) who fill your life with meaning as well.  If you do, don’t forget to let them know just how important they are to you.