Granny

I started writing this a couple of days before my Granny passed away.  I felt that it would help me grieve to put my thoughts into writing and although I didn't plan on ever sharing what I'd written, I've shared it with my family and I'd like to post it here.  Granny was very special to me, to all of us, and I want to keep her memory alive.  The past couple of weeks have been nightmare as we watched her struggle and as we said goodbye.  I know she's been made whole and that she's with Jesus, but my goodness how we miss her.  I thank each and every one of you who have reached out with your words of kindness, thoughts and prayers.  We've been overwhelmed by your love.

Granny loved doing things for others, she had a true servant's heart. She loved her family fiercely.  She dedicated over 65 years to one man, Thomas or you may know him as Daddy or Granddaddy.  I never heard her talk out of judgment about anyone, even though we probably gave her plenty to talk about.  She loved unconditionally but wasn't afraid to speak up if you got out of line.  (Isn't that right, Granddaddy?) She just wanted the very best for all of us and she was always there to kiss the wounds and help heal your broken heart. 

Granny loved to crochet. If I had to guess, she made at least 100 afghans in her lifetime, geesh, maybe even double that as all of her kids, grandkids and her great grandkids have a Granny-made blanket.  She's made hats, socks, scarves - perfect reminders of her warmth and love for the blessed recipient. In recent years, she learned how to use a knitting loom that she used to make hats for kids in West, Texas, the same kids whose families lost everything in a plant explosion. Even at the ripe age of 90, she was serving others the best way she knew how.

Granny was crafty and creative.  I remember trips to Big Spring during the summer with my sister Nikki or cousin Jill when Granny taught us new crafts.  I never knew yarn and plastic canvas could make so much.  I can't tell you how many things she made with just those two items and a pair of scissors. Seriously everything from coasters to bookmarks to tissue box covers. They were cute - she made ones that looked like houses with tissue coming out of the chimney.

Granny was always cooking something.  She wasn't afraid to try new recipes or experiment with old favorites. Mincemeat pie or sweet potato casserole - we all know pies shouldn't have "meat" in them and there's nothing "sweet" about sweet potatoes. But I ate whatever she cooked just to make her smile. She had that effect on me and I'm sure everyone who had the pleasure of sitting at her table would agree. She could cook for an army, too. When Henry was born, she made a pot of stew and cornbread for when they came over to see the baby. I think she was so used to cooking for a large family, that just the two of us had enough stew we didn't cook for days.  

Granny loved to tell us stories from the past and personally, they were enjoyable, felt like a glimpse into the good ol' days.  Over the past several years, if she wasn't reminiscing, that's when I worried most about her. In the few weeks leading up to Christmas 2012, she was in a rehab center after a prolonged illness.  The local family members tried to stagger our visits to where she never went more than a couple of days between visitors.  One afternoon after work, I picked up a little plant for her room and went for a visit. When I got there, she was sitting in a wheelchair, fiddling with a mess of yarn that had knotted up on her. I don't know if it was her illness or the yucky medication she was on, but she was struggling to communicate with me, all of her sentences were jumbled, bit and pieces of different stories.  Heartbreaking.  She fiddled with the yarn while we talked.  I had grabbed one end of knot and we were making progress but my Ament-attention span kicked in and I asked if she wanted me to cut it to make it easier to untangle. She smiled and coyly said "You can't give up. You gotta keep working at it." I silently prayed that she would keep fighting, keep working at it. None of us were ready to let go of her and I felt reassured by the Holy Spirit right then and there that she wasn't ready to let go either.  After lots of pulling, untangling and giggling, the knot came loose. She was right.  We had to keep trying.  I've replayed that afternoon in my mind a dozen times or more over the last two years.  "You gotta keep working at it."

I saw Granny on Sunday afternoon and before I left her house, she hugged me and told me she loved me.  I always knew she loved me, she always made me feel special and I loved her for that.  If Granny taught me anything, the most important was to always love your family.  I never heard her say a nasty word about any of her family. Only the positive, nice stuff. We don't get to choose our family, God has picked them out ahead of us. Sure they will make you mad or drive you crazy (we are Aments, you know) but try putting your feelings and differences aside and truly love each other, "You gotta keep working at it."