Grammie, Grandma, Nana, Mimi, Ooma, Grum, Gran, Grandmother . . . know them or not, we all have them – those wonderful women who made us possible. As a Gran myself now who long ago said her own good-byes to the ones who came before, I remember why I loved them so . . .
A grandmother is someone . . .
whose face lights up just because your face is in the frame . . .
who never forgets your birthday – chances are she was there . . .
who makes things just for you and saves them until you get there . . .
who stands on the porch and waves her good-byes and throws her kisses right into your heart . . .
who is always there – whether you’re thinking of her or not, she’s thinking of you . . .
who smells of magic – and cinnamon – and cookie dough – and love . . .
who will travel on airplanes even though she’s afraid to fly, just to come take care of you when you are sick . . .
who always has treats in her purse and never minds you digging around to see what you can find . . .
who, no matter how old she is, defends you against the world and all its bullies . . .
who laughs delightedly at your jokes and patiently listens to you read and claps at all your school performances . . .
who saves every letter you ever send her . . .
who never holds your mistakes against you, for she has lived long and seen much . . .
A grandmother is a best friend wrapped in an apron, salted with grey hair and etched with the lines of laughter down which have traveled the track of tears . . .
and her handprints are all over you . . . for as long as you’re here, you wear her love like armor and carry her gift of acceptance like a fine jewel in your heart.
Mothering God, I thank you for the grandmothers.