(Quick warning: In order to find photos for this post, I had to dig through my old honest-to-goodness-real-film photos from my childhood point and shoot cameras.. there is only so much quality one can expect from an 8-16 year old with a 35mm and a questionable quality of scanner!)
I really won on the day they were handing out grannies.
My Granny has many grandchildren and great-grandchildren. She was the kind of grandmother who could halt a displeasing behavior with a few curt words, but still manage to make a grandchild feel extremely, securely loved and like a uniquely special individual. She played our silly games(even though she disliked most of them), watched our age-level movies, and read our grade level books, and generally valued our personhood at whatever age we were, which allowed us a level of closeness that other people might not achieve with grandparents.
The same curiosity and independence that were the bane of her cooking abilities formed the random escapades she invited us along that formed of our now cherished memories. I say all this just to preface what an important and special role Granny has held in my life. She died in July of 2008, and while occasionally I regret that I could not steal more time with her, I also feel privileged- as the daughter of her fifth and youngest child- to have been able to know Granny for as long as I did. I am grateful for the time I got, and as she knows Jesus, I am glad she is finally with him.
I am at peace about Granny going to be with Jesus. Some days though, I miss her more than others. There are some situations that spike an automatic desire to go visit Granny:
Coming across a bag of Lays sour cream and onion flavored potato chips tucked away in a corner. Sitting down to a pile of of books, or perusing a used bookstore. Driving to the coast. Taking a stroll on a lovely day through a park or particularly forested area. Settling down to a cup of tea, or soup. Finding an excitingly strange foreign film, or watching a great book-based movie.
It is during these moments that I catch myself mentally loading up the car to go to Arroyo Grande and looking forward to a lunch at the Back Door Deli.
I remember several years ago, when my two youngest siblings were in those years of annoying car trips. We often drove to the coast as a family, spending the weekend with Granny and Grandad. While Melody and James were between the ages of 4 and 10, the ever present question was "Are we there yet? How much longer?"
They asked this so many times that Mom came up with an auto-response that soon became so traditional that even after they outgrew that stage, someone would always ask the annoying question just to hear the response before we got there.
"We'll be there when we see Granny waiting for us on the front porch waving."
Granny often did that. When she knew we were getting close, she would go stand on the front porch and wait for us to arrive. It became a joke those times when she wasn't there on the porch that even after we were there, we weren't really there until we saw Granny.
Sometimes, I drive past her old home, and there is a quiet pang of loss, knowing that she wouldn't be waiting for me there, if I stopped by. Granny's house was always a sanctuary: leave all bullies, worries, and stresses on the freeway, they couldn't come through Granny's door. Recently, during one of those pangs, I reminded myself what a relief it is that she is in heaven, fully well, unrestricted and rejoicing with Jesus.
I love Jesus, too. There is a certain amount of comfort I take in knowing that not only will I be able to bask in the presence of my savior, I'll get to see Granny again. Somehow, knowing that my once tangible Granny is there in Heaven makes my Jesus, who I have never physically hugged, feel even more tangible in those times when I really need a hug.
Even during the difficult times, I can keep moving forward, because eventually, I'll get to go to my real sanctuary. It is striking to me how similar life is to the drive I so frequently used to make to Arroyo Grande: long, steep, and twisting, sometimes exhausting, other times it isn't all that bad, occasionally fun, occasionally boring, filled with glimpses of breathtaking beauty and unexpected dangers, some days it goes by quickly, others it drags on forever, but in the end, it is well worth the trip. There are phases in my life when the trip is so long, so foggy and dark, so scary, and exhausting that I hear my soul wearily nagging God with that annoying question.
But I already know.
I'll be there when I can see Granny waiting for me on the front porch waving.
And this time, Jesus will be standing right next to her.
Until then, I'll keep traveling, and usually, I'll enjoy that traveling.
However, when I do finally get there, I want a hug from both.
I really won on the day they were handing out grannies.
My Granny has many grandchildren and great-grandchildren. She was the kind of grandmother who could halt a displeasing behavior with a few curt words, but still manage to make a grandchild feel extremely, securely loved and like a uniquely special individual. She played our silly games(even though she disliked most of them), watched our age-level movies, and read our grade level books, and generally valued our personhood at whatever age we were, which allowed us a level of closeness that other people might not achieve with grandparents.
The same curiosity and independence that were the bane of her cooking abilities formed the random escapades she invited us along that formed of our now cherished memories. I say all this just to preface what an important and special role Granny has held in my life. She died in July of 2008, and while occasionally I regret that I could not steal more time with her, I also feel privileged- as the daughter of her fifth and youngest child- to have been able to know Granny for as long as I did. I am grateful for the time I got, and as she knows Jesus, I am glad she is finally with him.
I am at peace about Granny going to be with Jesus. Some days though, I miss her more than others. There are some situations that spike an automatic desire to go visit Granny:
Coming across a bag of Lays sour cream and onion flavored potato chips tucked away in a corner. Sitting down to a pile of of books, or perusing a used bookstore. Driving to the coast. Taking a stroll on a lovely day through a park or particularly forested area. Settling down to a cup of tea, or soup. Finding an excitingly strange foreign film, or watching a great book-based movie.
It is during these moments that I catch myself mentally loading up the car to go to Arroyo Grande and looking forward to a lunch at the Back Door Deli.
I remember several years ago, when my two youngest siblings were in those years of annoying car trips. We often drove to the coast as a family, spending the weekend with Granny and Grandad. While Melody and James were between the ages of 4 and 10, the ever present question was "Are we there yet? How much longer?"
They asked this so many times that Mom came up with an auto-response that soon became so traditional that even after they outgrew that stage, someone would always ask the annoying question just to hear the response before we got there.
"We'll be there when we see Granny waiting for us on the front porch waving."
Granny often did that. When she knew we were getting close, she would go stand on the front porch and wait for us to arrive. It became a joke those times when she wasn't there on the porch that even after we were there, we weren't really there until we saw Granny.
Sometimes, I drive past her old home, and there is a quiet pang of loss, knowing that she wouldn't be waiting for me there, if I stopped by. Granny's house was always a sanctuary: leave all bullies, worries, and stresses on the freeway, they couldn't come through Granny's door. Recently, during one of those pangs, I reminded myself what a relief it is that she is in heaven, fully well, unrestricted and rejoicing with Jesus.
I love Jesus, too. There is a certain amount of comfort I take in knowing that not only will I be able to bask in the presence of my savior, I'll get to see Granny again. Somehow, knowing that my once tangible Granny is there in Heaven makes my Jesus, who I have never physically hugged, feel even more tangible in those times when I really need a hug.
Even during the difficult times, I can keep moving forward, because eventually, I'll get to go to my real sanctuary. It is striking to me how similar life is to the drive I so frequently used to make to Arroyo Grande: long, steep, and twisting, sometimes exhausting, other times it isn't all that bad, occasionally fun, occasionally boring, filled with glimpses of breathtaking beauty and unexpected dangers, some days it goes by quickly, others it drags on forever, but in the end, it is well worth the trip. There are phases in my life when the trip is so long, so foggy and dark, so scary, and exhausting that I hear my soul wearily nagging God with that annoying question.
But I already know.
I'll be there when I can see Granny waiting for me on the front porch waving.
And this time, Jesus will be standing right next to her.
Until then, I'll keep traveling, and usually, I'll enjoy that traveling.
However, when I do finally get there, I want a hug from both.
Thanks for the warning! It appears that my eyes needed a good rinsing!
ReplyDeleteSame here. I know that I still get the impulse to grab the phone and talk to her. She was always such a central figure in my life and it is painfully hard not to have her close. This journey is long but swift. Before you know, we will both be getting our hugs from Granny once again. So now, I talk about her with my children, wishing that they'd had a chance to know her the same way I did. Someday, they will.
ReplyDeleteWell, apparently my eyes needed a quick rinsing, too, and I didn't even know your Granny. But there are some people waiting there beside her for me, too.
ReplyDeleteLinda T. from OC