January has been particularly hard for our family, so I’m kind of glad it’s over. First, we each took our turn with the flu (or at least a very, very bad cold). And of course, we couldn’t just all have it at the same time. So we had sickness in our house for 2 full weeks. Essentially, I lost 2 weeks of my life.
And then, January 8th, we lost our family matriarch, my grandma, Marjorie Jeanne Bahr Pape. Grammy Marj.
For so long, she was the glue that held our family together. She was persistent to the point of stubborn. She quit smoking in her late 60’s, cold turkey, by sheer force of will. She was fiercely independent and always had a hard time letting people take care of her. But she took care of everyone. Every grandchild spent a week or two each summer. Every holiday was spent at their house, as cramped and cluttered as it was. My own birthday coincided with her town’s biggest celebration: Labor Day. As a child, I’m pretty sure I thought it was all for me.
She took care of her town too. For a number of year, she was city clerk and knew what was going on with pretty much every family in town. Since they didn’t have a fire department in their town, she had a “fire phone” in her house that called in emergencies and she would call whoever needed to be called. She made homemade donuts for trick-or-treaters every Halloween. She made pies for every funeral or celebration. Cooking was her way of showing she cared.
And man, those pies. Some people make a big deal of how tricky pie crust is, but pie making has always come easily for me. It must be in the genes. I’m proud to say that I inherited her pie making ability.
She was hardy. She grew up on a family farm during the great depression. She was familiar with hard work and sacrifice. She married her high school sweetheart (the day of graduation, in fact) and they made it work until the end. There were some cold years, for sure. Even as a child, I noticed that. But they loved each other by way of commitment. And in the end, when they came to love Jesus, they came to feel love toward each other again.
She was 59 when I was born, so I didn’t know much of her early life, but I was fascinated. When we were kids, we would sleep in the “back bedroom” all together on a giant bed. Most of the time, Grandma slept at the foot of the bed with us. As we were going to sleep I would beg her to tell us stories of when she was little. She told us about her pink horse (a white horse that loved to roll in the strawberries in the spring) and about the farm. I wish I could remember more of those stories.
But the things I want to remember are the times I spent with her and the things she taught me. She taught me how to sew, first by hand and then on a sewing machine. (She said it was important for me to know how to do it by hand and practice that first.) The time I found a dress pattern in her pattern cabinet and begged her to help me make it. Though she said, “I’m no seamstress!” she still helped me make that dress. The countless times I “helped” make noodles or jelly. How she would always dig out frozen fish that her brother had caught to make me fried fish because I loved it so! How she always, always had cottage cheese (pretty much the only thing I ate as a kid) and pop. But if you took a can out of the fridge, you had to replace it from the wash house. Helping her handwash the dishes, which she did immediately after every meal. (How I wish I had inherited that!) Her black coffee and jellied toast while she did the crossword every morning because she didn’t want her mind to go when she was “old”. Her cranberry-elderberry jelly. Precious memories.
I lost my grandad several years ago, and that was difficult. I still miss him. But I ache with the loss of my grammy. The thing God keeps putting in my heart though, is that they haven’t been lost, but found. They were first found when I was a pre-teen. It’s simply amazing how after an entire life time away from God, through the persistence of their grandchildren, God was still pursuing them and their hard hearts were softened. The change was day and night. They truly understood the debt that was paid and the cost of their Savior.
Like a treasure hunter, collecting precious items and putting them away for safe keeping, He’s taken them to heaven with him. I know this is out of context, but “Store up your treasures in heaven” has an alternate meaning to me now. They have been stored, they are safe. I hope they’re dancing together as praise for their Savior.