Joyce Christine Connell Horton was my maternal grandmother. I have not seen her face for over eighteen years but her presence is still so strong in my life. I think of her when my daughter comes home from college and my heart leaps, when my friend is mourning yet another lost loved one, when I dream of my grandchildren. All of the ways that I love come from the way that she lived. I, along with many others, thought that I was her absolute favorite! I don't have any illusions that she was perfect. She could gossip with the best of them and she would argue with herself. She had demons in her past, things she never got over.
I remember her cooking for days before the holidays, filling her freezer and counters for seven children, their spouses and twenty-five grandchildren. If someone passed away, she was the first one in the kitchen cleaning and cooking and taking care of everything behind the scenes. In her spare time she crocheted. She had counted stitches for so many years that her lips kept time long after she she quit counting. She had boxes of little baby shoes, caps and blankets that were ready to gift at the mention of a babyshower!
When I was expecting my oldest child I spent many hours thinking about the kind of mother I wanted to be. I made conscious decisions based on examples from mothers that I admired, including my own. I'm coming to a different place in my life and once again there are choices to be made. I want to love like my grandmother. I want my children to choose their mates based on the love they see at home because settling would be out of the question. I want to always be aware of the leap in my heart when my children come home again. I want to prepare scrumptious feasts to celebrate them so that they will always want to come home. I want my friends to know that I love them and that I'm there when they can't be strong. I want to play favorites with all that I hold dear. That's who I want to be.
Titus 2:4 that they admonish the younger women to love their husbands, to love their children...
CRYING at this post! I LOVE IT! I was only 8 when Nanny passed away, but she left quite a mark on me, too. I can still see her lips moving so clearly in my mind! And, oh the food! I have her peanutbutter cake recipe (in her handwriting) in a frame in my kitchen. I remember catching fireflies and riding bikes with her at Tennehill. She never acted "too old" to have fun with me. All the things you want to be, I want to be, too. She was a beautiful example. Oh, and I'm pretty sure that I was her absolute favorite.LOL:) She did make us all feel that way. Love you!
ReplyDeleteI love you, Rachel! She's been on my mind today, but especially since Jana left for college. When I get discouraged, I remember all of the simple things that made her happy and that's enough for me!!
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