Grandma

Some people have a gift for making you feel seen when you're in their presence. People who use this gift with the most power are the ones whose gentle strength makes you feel seen and safe. When you're with people like that, you can't help but feel like the best version of yourself. They make even the most insignificant of us feel important, as if seeing you is the greatest gift of their day. I imagine it's exactly what it would feel like to sit face to face with Jesus.

Grandma was one of those people

It's no wonder that everyone loved her.

She was strong, but the gentle kind, and she was so sensible that when she told you that you all but hung the moon, you'd have no choice but to believe her. You knew she had your back and she could hold it down--while wearing pressed slacks and gold clip on earrings.

Grandma was not known for her culinary prowess, so it's ironic that one of the things she was family-famous for was her pancakes. She made the biggest, fluffiest pancakes, with crisp, buttery edges--to be eaten with lots of syrup and a cold glass of whole milk.

To this day I can't really name a breakfast I'd rather have. All of us have tried for years to replicate these magical pancakes made from an unassuming "Just Add Water" mix, but, we've all found out "they're not Grandma's pancakes!"

I wonder though if the real magic ingredient was Grandma. Not, like, in the pancakes...that'd be gross. It was the time you got to sit in her kitchen with the bright yellow cabinets, just talking, while she poured out a pancake the size of your face, served up, just for you. A moment in time that felt utterly ordinary but actually was magical because of who you spent it with.

Grandma was so many things. She was the lined yellow pads where she faithfully wrote out her sermons. She was the notecard that carried her thoughts of you to your door. She was back rubs when you were falling asleep, a soft voice reading about a boy who grew duck feet. She was a bag full of Cheetos to share. She was the easy mark for your pranks. She was the checkbook ledger carefully balanced. She was walks to the park and dinner so, so, so slowly eaten. She was a wife, daughter, sister, mother, Grandma, and more. She is a child of God. 

She was someone who would have thought this was maybe just a little too much fuss being made about her. She'd rather be talking about the people she loved, praising our victories and praying for our challenges. I think it's fitting then, that the only suitable tribute to a woman like that is to honor her impact in our lives by truly loving the people we love.

I may never have a pancake as good as Grandma's again, but perhaps, if I work at it, I can make one for someone I love, because, just maybe, the real trick wasn't the amount of butter she put in the pan or the consistency of the batter--believe me, I've tried! Maybe it was the steadiness in the hand that held the spatula, the love in the eyes that took time to see you, the gentle strength of her voice taking interest in you. Those are things I aspire to be: steady, loving, gentle, strong.

I wonder if that's the secret of everything we do here on earth. Every mundane thing can be made magical when bathed in the light of Christ-like love. Where you can make pancakes from a "Just Add Water" mix that people talk about for generations. Where the kind of strength and gentleness that can only come from the Holy Spirit leaves the people around you believing in the better versions of themselves.

It's a secret that Grandma had learned and shared with everyone in her life. It's a secret we have the chance to share with everyone in our lives.

I miss her. I'm grateful that I will get to see her again, and in the meantime, I want to learn to be more like her.