My grandmother, of whom I, and many others in my family, affectionately call "Link" will be celebrating another year younger. I have so many memories with her that it is hard to pinpoint my favorite! However, I am going to go with this one....When I was little, about 4 or 5, I loved going over to their house to play in the game room that Link had converted to a sewing/arts and crafts room. The game room had a pool table in the middle of it and she had a platform made to fit over it so she could use the table as her work space. I, being the way that I am/was when I was younger, saw this table as my own personal stage and I had my very own captive audience...my grandmother! For hours I would stand on this table and sing and dance for my Link. Occationally, I would have to stop and be quiet so that she could talk on the phone or to try on yet another itchy and scratchy dress that she had made for me! Usually, it was her sister, Aunt Sharee, on the phone asking if I was there. My aunt would not come visit if I was there because, as she so lovingly said "If shes not talking, she's singing! Something is coming out of that mouth all the time! Call me when she goes home." The irony of all this is that now Aunt Sharee has nothing but talkative grandchildren...I don't have anything on those girls! I've gotten a little quieter as I have gotten older! Right, aunt???
From sewing and cooking to shopping and fishing in Dutch Bend, I love every minute I spend with her. She has become one of my best friends. She knows many things and many of our conversations have started with me saying "Well, don't tell anyone, but..."
Many years ago, I received an email about Grandmothers....
Grandma's Hands
Grandma, some ninety plus years, sat feebly on the patio bench. She
didn't move, just sat with her head down staring at her hands.
Grandma, some ninety plus years, sat feebly on the patio bench. She
didn't move, just sat with her head down staring at her hands.
When I sat down beside her she didn't acknowledge my presence
and the longer I sat I wondered if she was OK.
Finally, not really wanting to disturb her but wanting to check on her
at the same time, I asked her if she was OK.
Finally, not really wanting to disturb her but wanting to check on her
at the same time, I asked her if she was OK.
She raised her head and looked at me and smiled.
"Yes, I'm fine, thank you for asking,"
she said in a clear strong voice.
"I didn't mean to disturb you, grandma, but you were just sitting here
staring at your hands and I wanted to make sure you were OK,"
"I didn't mean to disturb you, grandma, but you were just sitting here
staring at your hands and I wanted to make sure you were OK,"
I explained to her.
"Have you ever looked at your hands," she asked.
"Have you ever looked at your hands," she asked.
"I mean really looked at your hands?"
I slowly opened my hands and stared down at them.
I slowly opened my hands and stared down at them.
I turned them over, palms up and then palms down.
No, I guess I had never really looked at my hands as I tried
to figure out the point she was making.
Grandma smiled and related this story:
"Stop and think for a moment about the hands you have,
Grandma smiled and related this story:
"Stop and think for a moment about the hands you have,
how they have served you well throughout your years.
These hands, though wrinkled, shriveled and weak
have been the tools I have used all my life to reach
out and grab and embrace life.
"They braced and caught my fall when as a toddler I crashed upon the
floor. They put food in my mouth and clothes on my back.
out and grab and embrace life.
"They braced and caught my fall when as a toddler I crashed upon the
floor. They put food in my mouth and clothes on my back.
As a child my mother taught me to fold them in prayer.
They tied my shoes and pulled on my boots.
They held my husband and wiped my tears when he went off to
war.
"They have been dirty, scraped and raw, swollen and bent.
war.
"They have been dirty, scraped and raw, swollen and bent.
They were uneasy and clumsy when I tried to hold my newborn son. Decorated with my wedding band they showed the world that I was married and loved someone special.
They wrote my letters to him and trembled and shook when I
buried my parents and spouse.
"They have held my children and grandchildren, consoled neighbors, and shook in fists of anger when I didn't understand.
"They have covered my face, combed my hair, and washed
buried my parents and spouse.
"They have held my children and grandchildren, consoled neighbors, and shook in fists of anger when I didn't understand.
"They have covered my face, combed my hair, and washed
and cleansed the rest of my body. They have been sticky and wet, bent and broken, dried and raw. And to this day when not much
of anything else of me works real well these hands hold me up,
lay me down, and again continue to fold in prayer.
"These hands are the mark of where I've been and
"These hands are the mark of where I've been and
the ruggedness of life.
But more importantly it will be these hands that God will reach out and take when he leads me home. And with my hands He will lift me to His side and there I will use these hands to touch the face of Christ."
But more importantly it will be these hands that God will reach out and take when he leads me home. And with my hands He will lift me to His side and there I will use these hands to touch the face of Christ."
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| Happy Birthday, Link!! I Love You! |
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