“You’re
so smart!” my great-grandmother exclaimed as she picked up the dishes in front
of me. “You cleaned your plate!” I smiled up at her, beaming with pride. At five years old, I couldn’t understand why
cleaning my plate had anything to do with my intelligence. Even so, it felt wonderful to impress
Granny. She never hesitated to
compliment a job well-done, especially when it came to eating food.
It wasn’t
until I was a little older that I realized why she equated cleaning my plate with
intellect. It meant that I wasn’t taking
what I was given for granted; I was appreciating each morsel. She wanted me to be thankful for my
blessings.
Granny’s
life has not been an easy one, and it’s difficult to imagine how she can always
be so grateful. She has lived through
more tragedies than anyone I know. Her
parents passed away when she was young.
The family members who adopted her were poor, and she was not able to
stay in school because they needed her on the farm. As an adult, Granny suffered enormous
loss. She has outlived four of her
children, one of whom was my grandfather who died unexpectedly in 1993. A lesser person would have renounced God
after experiencing such loss, but Granny’s faith was strengthened. It was through all her hardships that Granny
learned to appreciate what she had. She
learned to cling to everything good that God granted her because goodness is so
fleeting.
Granny
was the start of an amazing line of women in my family. I have always been impressed with how they
are all able to juggle so much with such grace.
I suspect that it was passed down as a gift--a family heirloom.
My mother
is super-mom. In addition to having a
demanding job and being active in her community, she has a husband whose
favorite pastime is to sit slothfully on the couch and flip back and forth
between golf and the History Channel.
She has raised (quite well, if I may say so myself) three brilliant,
well-rounded children. And still she has
managed to keep her house clean, despite our best efforts as children to
destroy it on a daily basis.
Her
mother is even more impressive. She has
raised five children, all girls, one of whom has a mental handicap. She worked in insurance while her husband
worked for the state in road construction.
They didn’t make much money; but for what they lacked in material gain,
they made up in love. They taught my mom
and her sisters the importance of family. Dinnertime was not an option in her
household. She carefully planned out
meals for each week, and she worked hard to make sure they were ready on
time. My mom and her sisters ate
together every night, even though moments before they had likely been in a
fight to the death over something trivial.
My grandmother taught them that their bond to each other was more
important than their differences.
Our
family didn’t scatter as most do. Like
the stately pines in my grandmother’s front yard, which drop their seeds
directly beneath their branches, the matriarchs of our line kept their loved
ones close. Each of my grandparents’
children were given plots of land near their own, so nearly all of them now
live within walking distance of one another.
My
childhood memories are filled with family picnics and volleyball games at my grandparents’
pond. There were no other kids (outside
family) that lived anywhere near us, but we didn’t need them. We had each other, and we were perfectly
happy with that.
All of
our close bonds we owe to my granny. My
grandparents were busy making ends meet when my mom and her sisters were young,
so Granny helped raise them. Then, when
they grew up and had kids, she took care of us.
Granny loved with enormous capacity.
She showed her love through the wounds she tended, the
Thanksgiving-worthy meals she would cook all year long, the countless hours she
spent in prayer for us, and the beautiful quilts she sewed by hand and gave to
all her “grandbabies.”
At one of
our recent get-togethers, I had one of those surreal moments where I took
notice of the family around me and realized how truly blessed I am to have
them. Just before prayer over the meal,
my granny looked around at us all gathered in my grandmother’s kitchen. Pride welled up in her eyes as she said, “I’m
responsible for all of this.” Yes, you
are, Granny, and we are so thankful.
