Grandma Was A Lady
My Grandma Hedman lived longer than any of my other grandparents, which is not what I would have expected while growing up. She had seemed rather frail at the time: she would fall and break an arm, or seemed constantly to be fighting a nagging cough. As the years went on she became hunched over as the bones in her hip and back gave way.
And yet I learned as I got older that she was really quite a strong woman. Her strength was not so much physical as spiritual.
I remember from sleeping over at their house, that Grandma got up very early every morning. She would bake bread made from scratch, and the aroma (and the bread) was wonderful. She would also often make homemade custard, which I loved. Overall she was a wonderful cook; her roasts and mashed potatoes were, I think, legendary in our extended family. As a kid I liked her peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, not just for the homemade bread they were made with, but also because she would pile on super generous helpings of PB&J - yum!
Grandma was also the most even-tempered person I think I've ever known. I used to think that if I went to her with the wonderful news that I was just elected president of the United States her response would be, "Isn't that nice?" Or, if I were to bring some terrible, horrible news her reaction would be, "My...tsk, tsk." She was the female embodiment of Kipling's "If" poem, keeping her head while all about her were losing theirs.
I also remember that Grandma would take a nap just about every day - not a long one, but just enough to recharge her batteries. As she got older these naps became more frequent or longer, as needed. After I moved to California and my children got older, one of the highlights of every trip to Seattle was a visit with Grandma who, right up until close to the end of her life, had a firm handshake and a ready mind.
Looking back, the lessons I think I learned most from Grandma Hedman were the value of knowing when to rest, and the value of keeping an even keel about life.
I've tried to learn to listen to my body and rest or sleep when it's telling me to. In the hectic life most of us live today that is a forgotten lesson. It is biblical as well, since God has commanded us to rest one day in seven, and this for our good. There is an element of faith in being willing to stop when everything around is saying "go." As my pastor puts it, resting one day in seven is trusting that God will give seven days of provision out of six days of work. The world will not stop - more importantly God will not stop - while we stop and rest.
I don't know how much of it is nature vs. nurture, but in some sense I've inherited my grandmother's even temper. It used to bother me that I didn't get more outwardly excited about different things. But then over the years, both from seeing Grandma Hedman and from experience, I realized that this is the way God made me. There is value in it, and I think it relates to what Paul writes about himself, that he had learned to be content in whatever situation God placed him in. I can't claim to be as content as Paul, but I think there is a connection. It's not that there is no internal passion, but that it is expressed differently, and with an underlying sense that God is in control, and being willing to accept that. Underlying everything for my Grandma Hedman was a deep faith in God, and trust in what He was doing in her life and the lives of those around her.
My Grandma Birnie was a mercurial personality. Grandma Hedman was much quieter and restrained. But of the latter it was the former who called her a lady. And she was right.
Labels: Family
