Well, dear readers, I have told you about my paternal grandmother in the first entry of this blog, and much has happened in my life over the last couple of years. As I write this on the first day of 2022, I am in the midst of great change: living back in my parent’s home while I look for work and a place of my own, and dipping my toes into the wellspring of wisdom in my family history as I face the new year.
This time, let me tell you about my maternal grandmother. “Small but mighty” would accurately describe her. She was just shy of five feet, and raised 7 daughters on farms in South Dakota and Iowa. She always had a garden, even after she and Grandpa retired and moved into town, and always made homemade bread and jam, much to the delight of her multitude of grateful grandchildren like me! Wonderful smells wafted from her kitchen: complete breakfasts of eggs and bacon (cooked by Grandpa as long as he was alive) and family dinners of roast beef with all the trimmings, including home canned tomatoes in a little side dish that always felt fancy and tasted delicious. At Christmas, everyone got a homemade popcorn ball to complete the day.
Grandma was also an artist and an educator. She was a prolific painter, with scenes that still grace many of our homes. She loved to play the piano and sing, and in later years even picked up the violin that she had long laid aside. Her home was filled with interesting rocks and geodes, nooks and crannies for inquisitive grandchildren to explore, and she kept pencils and paper for us children to use, encouraging us to draw.
Her faith was always paramount, and she shared it with us in everything she did. She didn’t preach, but I remember just knowing that her belief was like air to breathe. Late in life, she shared with me as a young woman that she was learning to leave her requests at the feet of Jesus in prayer, rather than picking them back up again after she said “Amen” to worry about more. I often have gone back to that wisdom, let me tell you!
When Grandma died in 1985, my cousin Barbara Halsted Adkins drove from Oklahoma to attend her funeral, and while she was on the journey, she penned this poem in honor of our Grandma. I share it with her permission:
“Mama, Grandma, Little Lady, with the dainty feet;
Weeds and hoes her garden rows- keeps them clean and neat.
Mama, Grandma, Little Lady, pats her grandchild’s head.
Tales of the prairie and Christmas fairies- feeds her homemade bread.
Mama, Grandma, Little Lady, with the gentle hand;
Dabs her brush on scenery lush with color – oh, so grand.
Mama, Grandma, Little Lady, wraps up in a sweater.
Works a crossword, feeds a snowbird, reads her daughter’s letter.
Mama, Grandma, Little Lady, with the grateful heart;
Lifts a note from a quavering throat- then trills the piano part.
Mama, Grandma, Little Angel, our own family treasure-
Showed us all 4’10” is tall when up against God’s measure.”
As I look toward my next year, searching for new work, new home, and new situation, I have much to learn from my Grandma. I hope that when I come to the end of my life, my friends and family will be able to say that my life reflects God’s measure through and through. May God bless you all!
