You and Me: March 2009

Today I watched a little girl stumble across the church gym as she practiced her newest endeavor- walking. With her arms extended forward and her eyes focused, she lifted each leg, knees going as high as her waist, and then plummeted them back down. Were it not for her auburn hair and little porcelain face she would have looked like a marching zombie. Every few steps she stumbled, then she would catch herself or fall all the way down. Her eyes never changed though. They stayed fixed and determined straight ahead of her, willing her back up with each stumble. Around and around the gym she went, marching forward with all her effort. Her courage, her determination, and her ignorance to anyone who might be viewing her imperfect performance told me that she wanted something and she believed in it- and that was all that mattered.

Later this evening I was reading "The Screwtape Letters" and I read this quote-

"He (God) wants them to walk and must therefore take away His hand, and if only the will to walk is really there He is pleased even with their stumbles."

Dear Grandma,

My heart is full - I love you so much. Thank you for being my Grandma. Last week when Dad called to tell me about your surgery not going well and the heart attack that followed I got on my knees intending to beg God for a recovery. But as soon as I bowed my head I began to sob. My heart was spilling over with love for you and all I could think was "She is such a good Grandma." All of my memories with you came to me and I wept with happiness. Each memory was sweet and simple, just like you. I have never experienced gratitude at that level before- for anything, and perhaps if you combined all the times in my life that I felt gratitude they would still not equal what I felt that night.

You taught me that every moment in time we are making a mark in life, instilling impressions and memories to leave as our legacy. And of all the things that we could be in life none of them really matter unless we know how to love. The love you shared made your passing a beautiful celebration of life. Thank you for leaving with me only good memories and a lot to live up to. When I shared this with my mother she said, "She taught us how to live and she taught us how to die."

Happy 81st Birthday Grandma! I love you.

Autumn

Many Memories of You...

Your Favorite Color, Baby Blue

The sound of your slippers sliding on my parents floor.

Your happy love for chocolate.

Our Doris Day Marathons

Stories about Grandpa

Your work as a machinist for Hill Air Force Base

Watching you run out of the house every time a jet flew over head, then hearing you call out what kind of plane and engine it was.

Your love for dancing.

Your favorite treat growing up: hot bread out of the oven, then spread cream from the cows milk over the top.

Your favorite time of year at the farm: Spring, when all the world came to life and the baby animals were born on your farm.

My first memory of you. I was 3 or 4, you helped my mom in with her groceries. You pulled out the bologna to put it away and I asked you what it was. You told me what it was and we laughed at how gross all the specks looked in the meat.

The bottle of pickles you gave me every year at Christmas.

The family Easter Egg hunt and baseball game we played on Easters at the farm.

Making Thanksgiving dinners with you and Mom.

Your unconditional love for the Utah Jazz.

The time I was at your house and I had a tooth ache. You warmed a potato, wrapped it in a cloth and held it up to my cheek.

You using WD-40 for soar joints, and many other interesting home remedies.

The many superstitions you lived by.

Your hours spent on crossword puzzles and solitaire.

The little porcelain dolls you tucked into your bed every day.

My last conversation with you. We were in the temple sealing room waiting for Winter and Casey to come in to get married. I was coughing. You turned around and whispered, "Do you want a cough drop sweetheart? I think I've got one in my jacket in the hallway." Then you took my hand and led me out to your jacket, fished through your pockets and pulled out a Halls. You opened my hand and placed the cough drop in, smiled up at me, then grabbed my other hand and walked me back to the sealing room.