I stopped by the bank today, and had an interaction with the loveliest teller on earth. She saw me sitting and waiting for a customer service agent to become free and she asked if there was anything that maybe she could help me with. I told her I needed a new debit card, and she said to come on over because she could help.
We were chatting about selecting a memorable pin for my new card that would not throw my memory bank into a tizzy. She mentioned that some people use the last four digits of their grandparents telephone number. This made me think about the qualities of my transitioned grandmother that I miss so dearly.
Grandma’s telephone number never changed during my lifetime, and most of the time, someone answered when I called. There was no voicemail or answering machine ever. Either someone answered or the phone rang into eternity.
Grandma lived at the same address for the course of my lifetime. She lived in a small house tucked away in the woods, down a long dirt road. As with all treasures, my grandma’s house took awhile to get to and was not easy to find. For the longest she had a route number address in a small town that goes by in a blink. I remember being so excited when we would turn onto her road and the dust would kick up from the tires, adding an element of magic to the anticipation of seeing her, of hugging her and kissing her cheek.
Grandma made biscuits from scratch almost every morning, and I am also convinced that she invented collard greens. Grandma made us play outside and drink water from the water hose on the side of the house when we got thirsty. Grandma walked with us to the “dirt hill”- a vast empty space where we ran and climbed and jumped until our hearts were content. There were no swings or slides there, just an open space for us to run free.
Grandma sat on the front porch in a rocking chair, with another empty rocking chair beside her waiting for you to sit and stay a spell. She would simultaneously tell all of your business and keep all of your secrets. Only a grandma has that particular super power.
Grandma only wore dresses or skirts and never drove a car. She taught herself to read and write more than the school system did. Grandma loved Jesus, she loved to sing, and she devoted most of her reading to the words of the Bible. She made sure that we prayed and said a bible verse before each meal. She kept hard candy in her purse.
What I see as her sacrifices may have been the very meaning of her life. She was stationary and dependable, she was always there when we needed her. Just her presence made you feel like you could conquer any 12-foot giant. Her presence was the presence of love.
The teller and I talked about how grandmas have changed. Indeed, time moves on, things shift and priorities have become more individualized. It is not to say things should go back to how they were, but to honor the foundations from which we sprang. Thinking about grandma fills me with fresh gratitude. Her sacrifices made it possible for me to live a fuller life.
I cannot imagine the strength it took for grandma to be who she was. I could tell that she was lonely sometimes, that maybe she wondered about the things beyond the walls of the small town where she lived. It’s not for me say what her life should have been, but it is for me to go forward and live as big and wide and expanded as possible. It’s not likely that I will be the same grandma who’s always sitting in the rocking chair waiting for company to arrive. It is likely that her quick wit and loving nature will be represented in me on her behalf.
My grandma has been gone from this realm for many years, and my memories of her are in bits and pieces. Regardless, I will never forget how it felt to sit on that wooden porch with her, rocking away my cares with my face in the sun.
Thank you grandma.
Breathe.Gratitude.Love. 
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