My Great-Grandma
I only have one great-grandparent left, and she's a Keele. Ginny Keele is her name, and I think Ginny is short for Virginia. She married my great-grandaddy, Arlie, when she was just 16 years old, and he was 17. They grew up in the same little community in west Tennessee, and one day Grandaddy told Grandma that he didn't want to wait any more, and they were going to get married. If I have the basic idea straight, I think the judge married them by the gas pump at the local gas station. Soon afterward, they packed up and headed West--to Oregon--where Grandaddy worked at a lumber camp. Grandma cooked for all the lumber-men, and did their washing too. They lived in a tent that way for a couple of years at least, and Grandma still says those were some of the happiest years of their lives.
Grandma has always been the one in the background, but clearly visible. Grandaddy was the lively, talkative one, but Grandma was the one adding wise-cracks between his sentences. She was good at using words--just didn't need to use them too much. Since Grandaddy died though, about six years ago now, she's been the one doing most of the talking. She's still quite witty, although not as sharp as she once was. Yesterday when we were talking about old people who still drive and run five miles a day, she said, "More power to 'em." Even though Grandma complains about her aches and slowness, her sense of humor is as sharp as ever, and it makes her enjoyable to be around.
Grandma is funny, compassionate, hospitable, open-minded, and loves Jesus. But Grandma doesn't sing. She hasn't sung, at least in front of anyone else, in over 50 years. I didn't actually know this until she brought it up a few weeks ago when my great-aunt was there, who testified she never had heard Grandma sing. "Everyone used to ask me why I don't sing," Grandma said, and then told us the story. The kids were pretty young, and they were visiting some relatives in west Tennessee. They were in church, singing a hymn, when Grandaddy leaned over and whispered, "Don't sing so loud." He didn't say it in a mean way, but he didn't know how much it hurt. Grandma closed her mouth, and never sang again.
When I'm around Grandma, it reminds me that my little life is a part of something bigger. I am in a line of ordinary people who have lived their lives in humble ways that have carried on farther than they can imagine, by God's grace. Who they were is a part of who I am. Many of their strengths have been passed on to me, along with their weaknesses. Who will I be, by God's grace working in my life, that I can pass on to those who come after me?
Grandma has always been the one in the background, but clearly visible. Grandaddy was the lively, talkative one, but Grandma was the one adding wise-cracks between his sentences. She was good at using words--just didn't need to use them too much. Since Grandaddy died though, about six years ago now, she's been the one doing most of the talking. She's still quite witty, although not as sharp as she once was. Yesterday when we were talking about old people who still drive and run five miles a day, she said, "More power to 'em." Even though Grandma complains about her aches and slowness, her sense of humor is as sharp as ever, and it makes her enjoyable to be around.
Grandma is funny, compassionate, hospitable, open-minded, and loves Jesus. But Grandma doesn't sing. She hasn't sung, at least in front of anyone else, in over 50 years. I didn't actually know this until she brought it up a few weeks ago when my great-aunt was there, who testified she never had heard Grandma sing. "Everyone used to ask me why I don't sing," Grandma said, and then told us the story. The kids were pretty young, and they were visiting some relatives in west Tennessee. They were in church, singing a hymn, when Grandaddy leaned over and whispered, "Don't sing so loud." He didn't say it in a mean way, but he didn't know how much it hurt. Grandma closed her mouth, and never sang again.
When I'm around Grandma, it reminds me that my little life is a part of something bigger. I am in a line of ordinary people who have lived their lives in humble ways that have carried on farther than they can imagine, by God's grace. Who they were is a part of who I am. Many of their strengths have been passed on to me, along with their weaknesses. Who will I be, by God's grace working in my life, that I can pass on to those who come after me?
great thoughts sister andrea. i always tell people about how great grandma keele asked donnie (in front of me) if i was the same girl he'd brought the week before... love that woman!
ReplyDeleteWow, that's cool, Andrea. I like this...
ReplyDelete