Grandma

I have been thinking a lot about memories lately. The kids chased fire flies the other night and I was immediately transported back to my childhood front yard in Hidalgo. Going to Em's first t-ball game reminded me of the many nights spent at the Newton ballpark and every time it rains and Emery begs to dance in it, I think about myself, longing to feel the rain on my sun-tanned skin.

Memories are actually why I started this blog. I have always loved asking my parents and grandparents about my past and theirs. I love sitting around the table listening to stories. I wanted my children to have their stories right here, waiting for them when they are ready.

When I think about my childhood, especially the summers of my childhood, my mind is taken right back to Hidalgo. Pork burgers on the grill, barefoot games of wiffle-ball with the in-town kids, playing house with baskets and bears (the same ones Emery plays with now). We spent so much time at my grandparents. They let us run wild but we knew the unwritten rule of checking in. I learned over the summers what a hard worker my Grandpa is. His yard was always mowed (and any other yard in Hidalgo that might have needed it for that matter), Grandma's honey-do jobs were always done, lunch was always ready. I also learned that my Grandpa is a man with a big heart and a soft spot for his grandkids and now great-grand kids. 

But if you would have asked me back then who my favorite person was or who I wanted to be just like some day, my answer would have been my Grandma. And today I would say the same name.

My Grandma was diagnosed with Pancreatic Cancer earlier this year. 

I have not talked about it here on the blog mainly because I don't know what to say. Just like I do not know what to pray for either. It was a shock to us but in true Grandma fashion, she has never wavered in her faith or asked God why. Which is such a blessing. And when she said those words to me, I stopped questioning Him too.

Instead, I have been almost constantly thinking about my life with my Grandma. I have been thinking about how special she is and what a blessing she is to me and those that know her. Actually, I know for a fact that she has touched the lives of many people that only know her from afar. 

What a powerful presence she has.

My Grandma is a little lady with a big love for her God and her family. Over the years I have had people stop and tell me what a "neat" lady my G'ma is and I always smile at that description because she is neat. She has this certain style about her and might be the sweetest, softest-hearted person that God ever created. She loves Longaburger baskets, HGTV, taking pictures by her fireplace, Grandpa (I love it when there aren't enough chairs and he tells her that she can sit on his lap) and me (okay and my brothers--but I do like to say that I am the favorite.) She is always fair and is a self-proclaimed worrier. That might be her only fault. But I swear she only worries about others. 

One of my first memories of my Grandma (and the most life changing) was watching her talk to her self in the car. I thought for a second that she was crazy. We were only going from her house to mine and I asked her who the heck she was talking to. She told me that she was talking to God. Praying to him that we would arrive safely. I remember thinking: "Huh...you can do that? Just talk to him?"

That simple prayer lesson was life altering for me and I know I have her to thank for my personal relationship with God. I have always felt like I could just talk to God--happy, mad, sad. There have been seasons in my life when my faith has wavered or I haven't talked to him as much as I should have been, but because of my Grandma, I knew he was there, waiting to listen. Today, seeing her faith work through her diagnoses, I have felt recharged in my faith.

Recently, I have tried to instill in Emery that same open dialogue with God. Emery actually very much reminds me of her Gigi. She has a touch of worrier in her but finds comfort in prayer. I look forward to always seeing their similarites. And when Emery someday asks me about where I learned to pray, I will tell her my memory and it will become hers. 

My Mom has told me stories of G'ma coming out to the house just to watch me wake up when I was a baby. If that isn't a Grandmother's love....

She has saved every picture or newspaper clipping of my brothers and I and tells everyone she meets about us. She is that grandma with the picture album in her purse.

The other day, as I prayed for her, I caught myself wondering how many hours, days, years she has spent praying for me. The love I felt in that moment brought me to tears.

Anything I ever wanted in life, she helped buy because she would never want to see me without. She has been to every ballgame, every chorus concert, every big or little moment I have ever had. But these aren't the moments I have loved her the most.

One time I remember having the worst headache of my life. It was so bad and I was in so much pain and nothing brought me comfort until she walked into my Dad's darkened bedroom and just held me in peace and quiet. I loved her so much right then. She has always been such a comfort to me.

On Sundays during my childhood you could always find us in a little white Baptist church, sitting next to G’ma and G’pa in the back left pew. I would play with her hands in the car on the way and squish her blue veins. It sounds silly, but I loved her so much right then.

And I have loved her every time I have come up with a crazy sewing project for her (always without a pattern much to her disappointment). She always looks at me and in an exasperated voice says, "Now Ashley...I can't do that." And then she goes home and works for hours and hours just to do exactly what I had pictured. I love that she has made all three of my babies' nursery bedding. I have heard her and my Mom tell the stories of her making my baby bedding and now I have my own memories of her making her great-grandchildren's.

I need to ask my brothers if they know what voice I am talking about, but if she says "Ashley" in this certain way, I know she doesn't approve of what I am doing or saying but she would never ever say anything to hurt my feelings. She loves birthday celebrations (we actually almost share a birthday) and always worries about the meals she makes even though it has been voted on by Doug and I and my Grandma makes the best Thanksgiving meal, hands-down. Which reminds me, I need a noodle making lesson. 

I am named after her (and so is Emery Kayt) and I hope one day to be just like her. Someday I want to cook like her and look like her and love like her.

I love my G'ma so much right now because nothing has changed. She still ends every conversation with "Love ya". She still says "Come back and see us..." every time the kids and I walk out her door. She calls me, worrying about this or that and almost nothing can stop her from coming to Emery's early morning T-ball games. She is my beautiful, smart, talented, Grandma that loves her family and her God.

I originally wrote all of these memories and things I love about my Grandma down just for her. Every night lying in bed my mind would wind through these sweet moments and many more and I just felt it on my heart to tell her. To tell her how much I love her and how important she is to me.

 I read my Grandma these words last night. We sat in her perfectly decorated front room, my Dad, Avery, Grandpa. I held Grandma's hand. There were tears and laughs and hugs and I love yous. And even more memories shared. I will remember the moment always.

I decided to put my words here too because remember, this is where I keep things for my children. I look forward to the day that they come across this post and add their own memories and reasons why they love their Gigi.

Grandma. Thank you for being my comfort, my teacher, my example in life. I love you.
And thank you Lord for giving me my Grandma.