Granny's Gift

“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.