The Shoulders of Giants

From what I recall being told, my grandmother was taller in her earlier years, before osteoporosis set in, than I am as an adult. You wouldn't guess it from this picture.

You also wouldn't know from this picture that she never wore a graduation gown. She wasn't able to go to college, thanks to the Great Depression and financial struggles it caused, likely complicated by the family's house burning down and her father dying when she was ten years old.

You can't tell from this picture that she never played piano or any other musical instrument. It just wasn't part of her upbringing.

But this beloved woman--despite osteoporosis, as well as two separate broken hips, both of which she recovered from and continued living independently--was always taller than I was when it comes to strength and character.

She died on this day (January 17) eighteen years ago, and for eighteen years I have thanked God for Grandmother and prayed "help me to be like her in the ways she was like You."

She and Granddaddy paid for my early piano lessons. She always encouraged me and asked me to play for her. She cut flowers from her own yard, drove them to Arkansas, and made the flowers arrangements for my senior piano recital. And bought my dress for that occasion, too.

Granddaddy and Grandmother used to give all of us a dollar for each A on our report cards. That wasn't a primary motivation for me, but it showed that they thought it was important to work hard, and that learning about the world mattered. Grandmother was a reader, and even though she seemed to spend more time in the yard and in the kitchen than she possibly could sitting with a book, the bookshelves in the house intrigued me with Gift from the Sea, The Prophet (How I wondered about that name, Kahlil Gibran!), I'm Okay-You're Okay, and always National Geographic magazines were around.

She was never a cheerleader that I'm aware of, but she certainly was my cheerleader, and I'm sure she was the same for all my siblings and cousins. It's amazing how powerful encouraging words from her were. She remembered our interests, remembered our teachers' names, and asked about them from time to time.

She taught children's Bible classes for many, many years. Her Bible stayed on the kitchen table, and we often read from it and a devotional book before meals when it was just the two of us, not a big family gathering. Before the big family gatherings we would often sing the Doxology together. It was obvious from the wear and tear on her Bible, that it was her constant companion, a strong connecting point with the God she loved and served.

And so when I see this picture, with my arm around her shoulder, even though I'm not standing on her shoulders, I know without a doubt that I would not have graduated with that counseling degree were it not for her, nor with the DMin degree years later. I know that I would never have entered piano competitions and become a piano teacher without her influence. The last time I saw her was after a choral concert, because she always encouraged my musical endeavors.

And I am quite sure that without her faith, which saw her through heart-wrenching loss and struggles of various sorts, I would not be a person of faith. I have no idea who I would be without her, really. I'm thankful I never had to find out. She was always there, always loving and serving and giving, encouraging and teaching with words and beyond words.

"Help me to be like her in the ways she was like You." Thank you, dear God, for Grandmother, a giant in mind and spirit.

I Love You Truly

Today would be my grandparents' 84th anniversary! They married on October 8, 1935. All I really know about the wedding is that this song was sung. This is a copy of the music that came to me either from my mother, or from Grandmother's house, after her death. I wonder if it is the actual sheet music that someone used for their wedding ceremony?

They were married for 54 years, actually. Granddaddy was twelve years older than Grandmother, and he died almost exactly 30 years ago, strange as that seems. It will be 30 years on November 6.

If you know this song, you know it's kind of hopelessly romantic. At least it seems so to me, implying that sorrows and fears can fade away simply by being in the presence of the one you love. Maybe it's the music that makes it seem hopelessly romantic, or maybe it's being calloused to love songs by all the ones written in more recent decades, that definitely have a superficial approach to love and give too much importance to emotions and even physiological feelings.

But when I think that this song was written at the literal turn of the century, before the sixties and the triumph of feelings and individualism; and when I read on Wikipedia that Carrie Jacobs-Bond painted china and rented out rooms to make ends meet, and wrote songs to supplement her husband's income; I think maybe she had a deeper kind of love in mind than much of what winds up in love songs these days.

And when I think of my grandparents' marriage, I know that they loved each other truly. Their love didn't do away with sorrows and fear. They married during the Great Depression. Granddaddy's brother and mother died four years later, and his father died two years after that. Granddaddy struggled with bipolar disorder in a time when there wasn't much you could do for that. They had their share of sorrows and I feel sure there was fear mixed in. But their love--not just for each other, but love for God and family as well as for each other--gave them what it took to face the fear and to survive the sorrow.

And I am so thankful that they did. Their marriage led to my mom's coming into the world, as seen below, and eventually to my being here. And all my siblings and their families, and my cousins and their families....we are all here because two people loved each other truly.

It's amazing what love can do, what people can overcome. And the good that can come into the world because of that faithful, persevering love. I'm thankful for my grandparents. I love them truly.