My grandma's life was such a life. My Grandma Ruth was such a person.
Memories race through my mind. First I am sitting at her kitchen bar watching her hands, swollen with arthritis, as they busily knead bread dough. There is green shag carpet on the floor and plastic on the dining room chairs behind me. Next I am following her to a salty pool at Crystal Hot Springs. She has placed my yellow water wings on my arms to keep me safe. This memory is displaced by another. I am the first to wake after one of the many grandkid sleepovers. Grandma is once again in the kitchen. The sun is shining on the lilac bushes in her backyard. I am wearing one of her softest cotton shirts instead of pajamas. It comes down to my knees. Grandma is cooking oatmeal and slicing fresh grapefruit.
With the images also come the sounds and the smells. I hear her voice as she reads me a book; as she sings me a song to make me smile. "I love you a bushel and a peck, a bushel and a peck, and a hug around the neck." She bops with the beat. The smell of fresh bread whiffs through the house, promising a taste as soon as it comes out of the oven.
Most of my memories are fun and carefree. Playing at Grandma's house was like eating ice cream for dinner. Rules were bent, but there was no real harm done. She bought us ceramics to paint, made us homemade play dough and set up a slip n' slide in the backyard.
Some of my memories are quieter. I am talking to Grandma while she cooks chicken noodle soup. She manages to listen to every word I say. How many hours did she spend listening to my stories of school days, of conflicts, of pains? She never judged. She only told me how wonderful I was, and how I was her girl--always.
"When such a friend from us departs, we hold forever in our hearts a sweet and hallowed memory, bringing us nearer, Lord, to thee."
Now that my sweet Grandma Ruth has passed, I find myself clinging to the hope of seeing her again. I feel myself more dependent on my Savior. I reflect on the day he rose, and envision the day when Grandma too will rise. I trust his power to save me from death and sin, and look forward with faith for the time I will be eternally with my family.
There is no way to express how much my grandmother is a part of me. With her blood, flowing through generations, also flows her laughter, her conviction and her unending love.
I love you Grandma!
In loving memory of Ruth Davis ManningApril 14, 1908-December 9, 2009
.jpg)