2017 seems to have been a year filled with declarations of “Girl Power!” and the rising up and acknowledgement of amazing women. I feel so fortunate that I don’t need to look far for extraordinary examples – I only have to look up my family tree.
I lost both of my grandmothers this year: my Nana in March and my Memere yesterday morning. They were both strong women, funny, fiercely loyal, and passionate about family. Below are three lessons they have passed on to me, although I truly could write a book.
 |
| Thanksgiving 2017 |
You can do hard things
Both of my grandmothers had countless curve balls thrown at them throughout their lives. One was a widow in her 30’s with three young children to suddenly provide for. One came from a large French-Canadian family, loved children and yet struggled with infertility. In their later years, my Nana would suffer from dementia and my Memere would spend years in debilitating pain. And yet, after (I’m sure) many tears and prayers, they both faced their days head-on and made the most of a less-than-ideal situation. If they could survive such heartache, overwhelm and pain, then surely I can too. I can do hard things too.
A joyful life affects countless others
The beautiful part of this story is that despite all adversity, they were two of the most joyful people I have ever met. Happy and full of laughter and so passionate about people. On the surface, you would never know the pain they carried in their hearts. But their joy? Their joy was contagious. And everyone, from family to friends to acquaintances, could feel it.
Family matters most
I visited my Nana, unknowingly for the last time, about eight months before she died. We visited in a sunny sitting room in her nursing home. Although confused by the dementia and unaware of who I was, my Nana gave me such a gift as she thoughtfully said, “So this is my family.” Even though her brain couldn’t remember or comprehend, her heart knew.
My Memere’s wish for a long time has been to have her entire family together with her. We all live states away and with schedules and work and babies, it’s been difficult to coordinate such an event. But in a way I can only think was divinely inspired, we were all able to travel and see her this Thanksgiving. We crowded into her tiny apartment (all 17 of us!) and shared a meal together. We laughed and played with babies. We joked with her and held her hand. In just a few hours, we made one more memory. And three short weeks later, God took her home. What a gift that visit was, maybe even more for us than for her.
When I reflect on my relationship with both of my grandmothers and the countless memories throughout my 33 years, two words always jump out at me: love and home. Growing up in a military family, they were our grounding point, our constant when life was always changing. They opened their arms, homes and refrigerators. They showed me that we choose to be significant pieces in the family puzzle, regardless of distance. And that choice is an important one.
So despite missing them both deeply, I rejoice that they are celebrating this Christmas with their Creator and I hold tight to the way their small, ordinary lives impacted mine. May I live my life in a way that even remotely mimics theirs.
