Last night as I was sitting on the couch with little girls cuddled all around me I wondered if someday they would recall the evening the way I sometimes drift back to moments of my childhood. After tucking the girls in last night I was reminded of my two favorite memories of my Grandma.
There is nothing outstanding about them, just gentle moments around the house. One memory I hold dear was shelling peas. She would sit with a pan in her lap and I would stand close by. She'd grab a hand full and give me one. I watched intently as if by magic the peas came smoothly out of the pod and fell into the pan. Try as I might I could never get it to go as well. I would snap the pod in pieces, or be unable to pull the string to get it to open. On the few occasions when things did go according to plan the peas would come flying out of the pod. Most missed the pan entirely and landed all around us on the floor. Each time she would just hand me another and let me try again. Never once did I hear a word of rebuke or complaint. I told her I didn't think I would ever be able to do it as well as she could. I remember her smiling at me and saying "Whether you learn how to do this or not, I will always love you." In the years after when I was struggling so with schoolwork, I would often comfort myself by remembering that my Grandma would love me no matter what.
My second treasure I keep of her happened when my grandparents had come to Washington, D.C. to visit us. I cannot remember where we were heading off to but she was helping me to get ready. At the time I had short hair, even so it would often tangle and would require major attention. I remember being frustrated trying to brush my hair. She took the brush from my hand and began to sort out the mess I had made. She worked quietly and quickly. From behind me I heard her say "Just think, God loves you enough to have counted every hair on your head." I was still feeling rather mulish and muttered that nobody else would go to that trouble. For a moment I was sure she hadn't heard me, then ever so softly I felt her part my hair and begin to count "1...2...3...4...5..." I was so overwhelmed! I spun around and hugged her for all I was worth.
As a child, I was certain of my parent's love. To know of her unconditional love was a real gift. Illness took her out of my life long before she made her journey to heaven. I believe had our time together been greater I would have many more memories like these. You see, in all I have ever learned about my grandma, I have heard how much she loved her family and how much she loved her Lord.
I cherish these memories of her and seek to show all the children in my life as much love as she showed me.
Recalling the blessing,