A Message to Grandparents

It will most likely cost me a box of tissues to get through this blog post.  When my maternal grandmother passed away in September, I began a post that I had to abandon due to the tears.  Now with the loss of my paternal grandmother just days ago, I can't bear to not say a few things, especially with Christmas approaching.

I feel like I've cried buckets of tears over the last few days and they continue to come.  Mixed with the obvious tears of sorrow are ones of pride, regret, and oddly enough, joy. I was incredibly blessed by the family God chose to place me in.  I suppose I can't avoid sounding boastful of the blood that flows in these veins of mine, a mix of two incredible women that I share genes with.  Comparing the two is like comparing your favorite dessert with your favorite entree- they are in different worlds, appreciated for different purposes, satisfying different needs.

My maternal grandmother was a farmer's wife and the mother of 8 children.  She knew how to cook to feed an army of children and farm help, but cooked with heart and soul.  She sacrificed her body to serve the needs of others, often neglecting her own needs.  She lived "simply," except there was nothing simple or easy about her way of life.  When she passed away, I was in the kitchen canning applesauce.  It felt right to mourn that way- in the kitchen over a hot stove; it seemed the best place to honor her.  So as I cried over peeling innumerable pounds of apples, I thought about how this was exactly what I carried away from her life and legacy- a little hard work and sacrifice now will lend to blessings later.

My father's mother provided for her family's needs by working in a time when most women were at home, but with large medical bills that needed to be paid, my grandmother told me simply, "It wouldn't have been right for me not to do what I could to pay for them."  She worked as hard as my other grandmother, but her sacrifices were different.  Grandma Seifferlein was a woman of great faith.  She was a bold spirit whom did not leave things unsaid and was unwilling to settle for less than her expectations.  Perhaps you can understand what consternation this might have caused me as a young woman, and what a great appreciation I have of it now.

When she passed away, I was working with my husband on a sewing project.  It seemed right, because amongst her many talents, my grandmother was a crafter and sewed a number of creations for me.  She taught me how to crochet and knit as well as sew.  As I listened to the hum of the sewing machine, I thought about how this creating to bless others was a gift she had handed down to me.

This weekend, my siblings and cousins and I went through some of Grandma's things, choosing items of significance to cherish.  It's funny- and by that I mean we actually laughed- about the items that we chose or hunted for.  Overlooking items that likely had material value, we sought those treasures that said "Grandma."  We carried away Dixie cups because as a small child, a Dixie cup dispenser in the bathroom was a luxurious experience of drinks of water at your demand.  Worn ping pong paddles and poker chips spoke of hours of fun.  We searched for the basket that held little single serve packets of jelly that was present at every breakfast you ever ate at Grandma's.  I found a pair of knitting needles with the start of a scarf that I will take great comfort in finishing.  These are the items that mean the most to us.  And most valuable of all was a simple blue binder with a few of my grandma's handwritten memories.  

I find it fitting to share this with you in the midst of this Christmas season, because we are so quick to purchase gifts with a momentary wow-factor that will light up young faces, when what we are really all truly seeking deep down inside is for something that matters.  I don't remember many presents from either one of my grandmothers, except a few that were particularly meaningful, but what I remember most are stories that they shared, the lessons that they taught by the way they lived, and the memories that we made together.  And what I wish I had more of now is that; an insight into how they became the women that I admired so much.  Sadly, many of those memories have passed away with them.

As a grandchild now without grandparents this side of Heaven, can I encourage you?  Even if you think your grandchildren won't appreciate it now, please, write down some of your history, especially fun stories about your childhood and pivotal moments of how you came to be who you are now.  When everything else falls away- the toys are outdated and the trendy outfits are outgrown- this will really matter.