The Grandma I Remember

My grandma and namesake lived a long life, 92 years. Her last word was 'well'. And yet there was so much more to this woman. For instance she gave birth to four children in her iron bedstead while lying on a feather mattress accompanied by a midwife. Each child was born healthy. While Grandpa tended to the cattle and worked the farm, Grandma took in ironing to make money, raised chickens, and even a border or two. During harvest time, immigrants would stop by for a couple weeks to harvest the wheat and stack the bales in the barn. She would fix mashed potatoes, homemade chicken and noodles, home grown beans and corn on the cob, yeast bread, and fried chicken for everyone. Her table was overflowing with the fruit of her labors. She grew it prepared it cleaned it up made ready to do it again. She didn't ask much of my grandfather. They had little to say to each other but I know he could have been kinder to her.

Grandpa didn't allow Grandma to drive but each Sunday morning he would drive her down the dirt road to the old timey Methodist Church, waiting for her in the car until she had completed her worship of her Lord. One weekend I spent with her and accompanied her to church. The piano made a pling, pling sound with each note of each hymn played. I remember the preacher saying if we knew the Holy Spirit was with us then we would feel a tickle in our palm as we each filed by and shook the preacher's hand. As I neared the preacher Grandma nudged me forward and I stuck out my hand. As our hands touched I'm sure there was a look of shock on my face because I felt the tickle in my palm, just like the preacher said! I started to say something to my grandmother but she shushed me. We filed back to our pews, bowing to the final prayer and quietly walked down the steps and out to the car. Grandma looked over the top of the car as we're opening our car doors and winks, and that's how I knew she had felt the Holy Spirit too. This was a special time for me, to share the Holy Spirit with my Grandmother.

I remember watching Grandma take yet another flannel gown, a gift from one of her children or grandchildren, and lay it beside two or three stacks of nearly identical gowns. I think she must have been hard to buy for because she wanted little and asked for nothing. My Grandma worked hard, received few thanks, and yet she seemed to feel the act of caring for others was her reward. It would be a better world if there were more Grandmas like mine around today. Especially one you could share the Holy Spirit with.