Spring Cleaning and Mother's Day - A Package Deal

I did a little site maintenance, cleaned things up, moved some stuff around and realized that I had never posted from my trip to visit my grandmother last month. Oops!

For Mother's Day, my family gave me the gift of time with someone very special, my 91 year old Grandma. I highly recommend the "Nursing Home As Spa" vacation if you ever the get opportunity. I had my own room, went to bed by 8 o'clock each night, ate food that was extremely easy to chew, and felt very grateful to have my health. Isn't that what Canyon Ranch offers on a much steeper price tag? Okay, so maybe I was just a wee bit desperate for a break.

All kidding aside, my grandmother offered me that spectacular gift during my childhood of unconditional, unencumbered, and unending love. The kind that only grandparents who aren't charged with discipline and nutrition and formal education can provide. The kind of love that feels limitless and also anticipated. The kind of love that is birthday cake frosting every time you are hugged.

The kind of love that says "Oh? You didn't want to brush your hair today? That just makes me want to hug you and squeeze your knee. Here, have a cookie. I baked these just for you kids."

Or, "Did you climb up on that counter all by yourself and get those potato chips down? Aren't you clever!"

Or, "Wow, show me how you can stand on your toes again! Why that's amazing! Where did you learn that? Ballet? Oh, show me some more and turn on some music and let me clap for you."

The kind of love that is so very reassuring to children navigating the treachery of growing up. Because childhood, while magical, is also full of learning new skills and trying to be good and figuring out how stuff works and how to write a paragraph and where do the arms go in third position in ballet? And where does the shortstop stand again?

As a young girl, I knew deep down that what I was doing wasn't really all that extraordinary or unique - I'm sure lots of kids could do cartwheels, memorize a poem, or wear a softball uniform - but Grandma always made me feel like what I did was impressive and brought her great joy.

And who didn't need that as a kid? And frankly, who doesn't need that as an adult? What a gift I have - a woman who thinks that I'm great just for being me! It's like my own private cheerleader, Ed McMahon, and personal snare drum all rolled into one lovely soft pink track suit.

And you know, we could all use a little more of that.

My grandma, like many women of her generation, has known hard work and sacrifice far different from anything I've experienced. Her mother died during childbirth, and she soon lost three sisters to childhood disease that she and one other sister managed to survive. She worked in a factory while raising a child during WWII, went back to school and became a teacher while raising my father and did all of this while finishing up a needlepoint or quilting project and maintaining a vegetable garden that was nothing short of victorious.

This Mother's Day I decided to spend some time cheering her on so I traveled to the Midwest to sit with her and visit.

Just me and Grandma. No worrying about little people pulling the rescue cord, or playing in the toilet, or eating the dried plums on the bedstand.

Just us.

Sitting in the solarium soaking up the sun and drinking coffee together. And home baked rhubarb crisp, because you just don't get to go to the Midwest without some divinely baked treat that originated in someone's garden and now is being served in a church dish.

Grandma and I enjoyed watching spring burst open together. She commented on the direction of the wind in that tone that comes with someone who has noticed such things for a long time. The wind really started to blow and bend the trees as if trying to force them to the ground.

And yet, they stood.

Grandma and I watched this together and marveled at their strength. Grandma talked of the tree's root system: imagine, underneath the ground were all those roots that you couldn't see holding it up in the wind. Why, they were probably just as big as those tree limbs spreading out over the courtyard.

And I had this image, almost childlike, of a tree upside down with its roots growing in mirror image under the ground. And it made me smile. And think of her.

That while all of us are out here blowing in the breeze and trying our hardest to stand upright on the windiest and blustery trials of life, we've got roots.

Strong roots that hold us upright even when it feels like the world is gonna tear us down.

And I'm so glad for the roots I've got.



I love you, Grandma!