When I told my Granny that we were moving away from South Carolina last year, we both cried.
For all the fussing and trouble that she’s given me over the years (and this isn’t anything that I wouldn’t say to her face – the Lord knows I’ve tried to convince her to get a computer so she could get on the Internet and read my blog but all she thinks I’m trying to do is find her a boyfriend on the Internet because that’s where you found yours!), my Granny really does love me and miss me.
She loves all of us grandkids dearly and prays for us everyday but for some reason, it seems to me that she’s always held me to a higher standard. I’m not sure why other than perhaps she felt like she could relate to me a bit more since I’m her only granddaughter. And maybe she wanted me to be like her.
Papa could talk guns and shop talk with David and Jonathan but Granny wanted to tell me about how I should start making dinner for Mom and Dad each night.
When I started Junior High, and was self-concious of boofy hair, aching for friendships, and was just an all-around a brat, I would get phone calls from my Granny after coming home from school. Phone calls that drove me insane.
“Hello?”
“What are you making for supper tonight?”
“Um. Hi. Granny? Um, I just got home. I’m, um…just sitting around. Are you okay? Do you need something?”
“You should be cooking supper! Your parents are working hard to put you through school and when I was 10 years old I made supper all the time. I could make biscuits from scratch!”
Needless to say, my relationship with her has had sour moments through the years. I’ve often felt like I could never do anything to please her. She always felt free to comment frequently about my weight which really hurt at first but grew to be hilarious as the years have passed.
“How’s your diet going?”
“Well, when I get through eating this fried chicken and ice cream and two loaves of bread, I’ll go weigh myself and let you know.”
I like to tease her. 😉
When Daniel and I told her that we were moving to Pennsylvania, I thought she would be angry or start praying out loud that we needed to find God (because after all, all of the family lives in the Valley except for Jon & Tara who have ABANDONED EVERYONE and moved to Greenville where the heathens are). But she didn’t. She nodded, and then teared up.
In the weeks before we left, I spent a bit of time with her and we cried and laughed as we watched Drew scurry around. She would sniffle and say, “are you sure you don’t want to leave Drew here?”
The move happened. I missed my family so much. And still do. And then unexpectedly, I started getting letters in the mail from Granny.
When the first one came, I was actually very nervous about reading it. I remember sitting on the couch and mentally having to coach myself to open it. I just knew it would be full of sharp, biting, and horrid comments about our moving away. But I was totally shocked to find an absolutely delightful letter! It’s hard for Granny to write now so I knew that it was with great sacrifice that she sat down and poured her heart out.
We’ve been here almost 5 months now and I have a bundle of letters from her. And they are full of curiosity about living near “Yankees in the North” and what food we eat here and what people are like here. It’s as though we have moved to another country.
I feel as though I’ve seen another side of Granny. Perhaps an echo of her younger days when she possibly ached to see more of the world. Or at least another state.
The letters are also full of reminders to keep close to God, to pray for Daniel and Drew, and to encourage Daniel because working two jobs can take a toil on him quickly.
Sometimes there is a strong comment (“you’d better be keeping the house clean and making supper every single night!”) but I don’t mind. I read her words and gently disagree sometimes (why should the house be clean, seriously? just kidding!) but mostly, the words bring tears to my eyes.
I hold these letters dear to my heart. They will only become more precious with time.
