It is the start of Holy Week. I'm feeling a bit nostalgic and soulful today as I can't separate this time of year from thoughts of my grandmothers, both deceased. And I wouldn't want to anyway.
I think especially of my father's mother who lived close-by. My memories of her at many Easters are some of the most significant reasons why I love this holy season. I saw her mostly at church every week, and afterwards as we either went out to lunch or accompanied her to deliver altar flowers to shut-ins. I still hear her voice singing next to me during some of the hymns we sing today.
Outwardly, she always looked marvelous. She had a regal style that made my little-girl self proud to be with her. She wore amazingly soft fur coats that had been given to her, and usually two eye-popping rings on her lovely hands. She loved to wear colorful scarves, huge brooches and costume jewelry too. And she always, always smelled good.
But much more importantly than her outward handsomeness, her spirit radiated His presence. My grandmother was a private-duty nurse for years, but from what I understand, did it for family and friends as much as for pay. In the second half of her life she was made wealthy as a result of her good deeds, literally. A friend left her an inheritance due in part because of the devotion with which she had nursed that friend's mother. She wasn't a worrier. She smiled at everyone, and greeted them like every soul deserves, preciously. She laughed easily and had a mischievous sense of humor. She was tender and generous and faithful. She knew what she stood for and she stood Tall. She was full of joy, even while quietly enduring years of incredible physical pain with nary a complaint. My father said that in reading her private journal after her death, he discovered not one unkind word about anyone! That shakes me to the core! The only time I saw her light diminished was when my grandfather died. And she never quite recovered her full spark after that, about nine years before her own death. She wasn't perfect, I know, and I'm sure others who weren't her granddaughter saw and experienced more of her flaws. But I am grateful to have had the vantage point I did. At a critical time in my life, it was knowing her that made me believe that saints could truly be saintly.
2 comments:
i read this post before going to bed and had dreams about my grandma! i really miss her and it was nice seeing her in my dreams.
even in my dreams she had her dry sense of humor and told me i needed to lose weight! he he he.....
i remember you telling me about your grandmother back in high school. she really was an amazing role model and sounds just so lovely.
That's cool about the dream! I don't think I ever met her. :( Any pics of her for your blog?
I want to find a few more of my g-mas and post them. And I want to write about my mother's mom, too. She was lovely in her own way.
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