During my life, I have been blessed to know a lot of my grandparents. I knew most of my parent's parents: Papa Steve, Meemaw (Grandma Betty), and Grandma Frances. My Papa Joe died a little less than a year before I was born. I knew most of my greats: Papa Mackey, Grandma Mackey, Papa Fricks, Louise (Papa Fricks' second wife), Grandma Nelson, and Grandma Garrett. I even knew one great-great: Mama Dickerson. Most of these grandparents lived into their late eighties, some into their nineties. They provided me with a rich childhood woven with storytellers, history buffs, travelers, and, most importantly, God-fearing Christ-followers. My roots run deep, and I have multitudinous memories with them.
My very last grandparent passed away on January 4, early in the morning. There is always an element of sadness surrounding death, yet there is the joy of knowing she is in heaven! Meemaw's death brought me to the realization that, with all of my grandparents gone, the rich history they have gifted me with needs to be cherished and not forgotten. An entire generation of my past is gone, along with the wisdom of life experience with which they spoke. And it's up to me to remember.
I think perhaps one of the greatest lessons Meemaw taught me was unconditional love. She was married to my Papa Steve. He was a wonderful man, and I loved him dearly. But he could be a bit of a grouch. Yet Meemaw loved him...adored him! And he adored her! At Christmas every year they had a musical mistletoe that hung in the doorway from the living room to the hallway ; they frequently wound up underneath it together! If anyone could pull the tenderness out of Papa, it was Meemaw; he had a soft spot for her indeed. No matter how grouchy he may have been, I NEVER heard him raise his voice to her. After he died in 1998, she and I spoke of him often. She loved him, and she hurt every time she remembered his death. She was a great model of how a wife should really take care of her husband, and I pray I can take care of my husband in the same way.
I saw her love again when I showed her a picture of David after we were engaged. I didn't know what to expect, but I knew I was scared. See, she grew up in Greenville, South Carolina, during a time that racial segregation was common. This was an area where the KKK ran rampant, where my parents drove down a street while dating and had to turn around because there was a KKK meeting in the middle of it. But she loved David in spite of his skin color, and she told me years later that Papa Steve would have accepted and loved him as well. She loved, regardless of your mood, attitude, or appearance...a valuable lesson!
Papa Steve also taught me great things! He went to church off and on throughout life, but about a year before he died, he accepted Christ. He was a tremendous example of true change in the life of a believer. During that year, he was baptized (and so excited about it), and he very rarely missed a church service. God started changing his mood, his racist attitude...everything! He was passionate about being saved, and he was certainly not ashamed to share it. In that year prior to his death, I remember watching that joyous transformation. I remember him praying for my uncle to accept Christ. I remember his sharing Christ with so many whom he had known his whole life...he wanted everyone to have the relationship with Christ that he did!
To be continued....
