“Even when I am old and gray… I will declare your power to the next generation.” Psalm 71:18 ESV
As a child, I thought of my grandmothers as exact opposites.
One lived a few blocks off Main Street in a small town, in a small white duplex with a small patch of grass between her apartment’s front porch and the sidewalk. That was Grandma Burks, who somehow always seemed a little frail and needy to me, even as a kid. While not exactly stern, I didn’t trust her smile and found no evidence of even one fun bone in her thin body.
There were lots of rules at her house. Don’t let the front porch swing hit the railing or the house. This meant you could swing about six inches forward and back without being scolded. Stay out of the alley. Be quiet. And, for the love of Pete, do not sit on the bed. If you really wanted to endear yourself to her, you’d find a way to make yourself useful. I generally chose not to endear myself.
Her apartment was meticulously clean. The sparkling bathroom bore the odd scent of cigarette smoke and Dove soap. Every room was tidy. Nothing was out of place. She had the uncanny knack of making any solid surface in her domain shine. It either bore a fresh coat of paint or was polished to mirror-like perfection. Nothing was dusty, smudged, or dull. And heaven help the kid who left fingerprints on something. During our weekend family fly-bys, she always prepared a nice little lunch for us that typically included fried chicken and homemade chocolate pie. I learned to wait at Grandma Burk’s house. Wait for instructions. Wait to eat. Wait to leave.
Worth the wait.
Leaving was jubilant because it meant we were about to make the forty-five-mile drive to spend the night in a new world, Grandma Mac’s house. She lived outside of a small town on acreage. She was sturdy, loud and hardly concerned with cleanliness. The dead cockroach permanently entombed behind the clear cover of her kitchen stove’s clock throughout my childhood was proof. That, and years of hearing the aunts whispering reminders to “check for mice pills in the cups” before pouring their morning coffee.
The smell of Grandma Mac’s farm shifted depending on the breeze and where you were. If it were a perfume, I’d say the fragrance had the rich warm tones of bacon grease, homemade biscuits, and hot cocoa with low notes of soured chicken feed, cow manure and the outhouse… it was all there. You got used to it.
Her home was often noisy, filled with the laughter of aunts and uncles visiting with their families at the same time. It was a place of freedom and exploration where I could search for terrapins in the pasture, holding them hostage in a shoebox until time to leave. Or, exploring the woods and lime quarry deep within it, where blue-tailed skinks darted into crevices evading capture and life in the shoebox. Sometimes I’d tiptoe out the squeaky kitchen screen door behind Grandma before anyone else awoke to watch her scoop grain from the bulging gunnysacks in the smoke house. Then following her through the ankle high wet morning grass I’d stand near as she scattered it to the chickens in the yard before going back inside to start breakfast.
I don’t recall any lengthy or meaningful conversations with either of my grandmothers. Frankly, I don’t think either ever really talked with me when I was a child. I was mostly an observer, a tag-along, another kid at the table when we visited their homes. Neither were affectionate. Neither set out to inform my opinions or to intentionally teach me anything. Yet, they did. They each helped shape my childhood and my life. Because that’s what grandmothers do.
In fact, that’s what grandmothers have always done. They leave an impact, an impression – good, bad, or indifferent.
Especially blessed are the families whose grandmothers are aware of their great influence, who intentionally leave a spiritual legacy, ensuring their grandchildren know the life-altering love of Jesus and his Word.
Prayer: Father, thank you for the gift of grandchildren and the privilege of influencing their lives. Guide me in my time with them and in my prayers for them that they will grow to love and know you as their Savior. Amen.
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