Meanwhile I am learning some great lessons. I am learning to be patient. I am learning that I have limitations and am, after all, merely mortal. Each day I am grateful for the smallest of things. I can't control the seasons or change the number of days allotted to me by worrying. May sound like trivial stuff, but it's the glue of life well lived; gratitude and knowing your limitations. How do folks survive without resting their hopes in a Sovereign God? I used to believe that I was in control. I used to think a lot of silly things.
Years past I was the woman you wanted to know if you had a mountain you needed moving in an hour. Determined, strong and willing to defy the odds. Age and decrepitude have given me a different set of skills. Adapting to the truth of how things are without giving up hope of what they can become. It's a dance best done with flat shoes and the flexibility to let God hold you fast and dip as He sees fit. It also requires solid foundations.
Speaking of foundations.... ladies, are you old enough to remember when under garments were called "foundations" and you went in to be fitted by an expert? I do. It was traumatizing. All those measurements had to be done without benefit of clothes. Now days you can watch television and see more of a woman's body than any corsetiere needed to see. I remind myself of my grandmother, waxing nostalgic for even the traumas of my younger years. It's unavoidable. You end up being the person you laughed at the most when you were a kid. For me that's my grandma. My grandmother would call us by starting with the name of the grandchild that came just after you were born. "Marie! er Linda! Peggy! Laurie........ uh...you get in here!" Sometimes she even mixed up the sexes. "Steven? Really Grandma? I look like Steve? It's Rosemarie!" Her response was always, "You know what I meant." I was especially fond of "Go in the uhh uhh.. um... and the uh uhh... whatchamacallit for me."
Living with my grandmother was fun. Grandma had narcolepsy. Sometimes as she cycled through the names of the grandchildren wanting to call me in to do a chore, her head would slowly get lower and lower until her chins rested on her chest and she began to snore. As a youngster I was compliant and would sit dutifully waiting until her head would come back up and she would finish her sentence. As I got older I would see her nap attacks as my "get out of chores" free card. I know, it's terrible to take advantage of someone who is ill. Grandpa liked it too. Grandma wanted to watch Mitch Miller each night and Grandpa wanted to watch cartoons. Actually, he pretended he wanted to let his grand kids happy by letting us watch cartoons, but he watched them when we weren't around. Grandma would fuss about watching Mitch and we all know that life can be unbearable when the matriarch of the family doesn't get her way. We would gather around and wait for the big event. After a few minutes of singing stupid songs, we would watch Grandma instead of the bouncing ball. Quietly we would wait for it.... wait for it... and then soft as a snow flake settling on the ground her chins would be tucked soundly on her collarbone. We would stifle a giggle and wait for Grandpa to catch on. When he thought the coast was clear Grandpa would change the channel. With any kind of luck we'd be watching "Quick Draw McGraw" and his little side kick, "Baba Louie" getting into misadventures. Or my favorite, Snagglepuss. "Exit stage left!"
Is it the 30th yet?
1 Corinthians 1:9God is faithful, by whom you were called into the fellowship of his Son, Jesus Christ our Lord.