Tuesday, November 27, 2012

another set of good words

i wanted to link to this blog post i read a few days ago.  man, did i need it.


we'll see if it works or not.  the name of the post is unschooling, re-attachment, and spiritual development...fyi.


good words

i had a lovely thanksgiving holiday.  considering i'm going through a sort of rough patch in life, it feels good to say i had a very lovely thanksgiving holiday.

one of the lovely things that happened this holiday is that i got to spend some time with my 89 year old grandmother.  she'll be 90 in may.  she told me that she isn't partial to any of her grandchildren, that she loves us all the same.  she's told me this before.  i believe her.  but this time, she told me that she wanted to see me and my family because we are not in town often and she knew she wasn't going to live much longer.  (if you could've seen her pull herself into my sequoia...that woman's still got some spunk left, lemeetellya...)  anyway, after telling me that, she then proceeded to say something i will think about for the next ten years or so. 

she was telling me about a situation with my cousin, years back.  my cousin's mother was getting remarried, and my cousin didn't want to attend her mother's wedding.  my grandmother wouldn't tell her she should go, but she wouldn't tell her she shouldn't go either.  she told her to pray and see what God told her she should do.  then she told her...and this is the part that makes me cry because i wish i'd been asking my grandmother for advice my whole life...that she should remember that her mother might feel like my cousin was doing her a wrong by not attending...and that my cousin might forget about this situation before she ever had a chance to make it right with her mom.

most of the things i remember my grandmother telling me are kind of mean...if i forgot something, it must've been a lie...if i stuck my tongue out at my sister, my grandmother would say "i wouldn't want that nasty thing in my mouth either"...stuff like that.  she was a strict german grandma.  not highly educated.  i don't think she finished high school.  but she was, and still is, one tough woman.  and she's simple...in a direct sort of way.  she smelled really nice this holiday.  when i asked her, she said it was her "dusting powder."  but she's never been really talky.  she was kind of bossy when i was younger, but she didn't always have a lot to say.  but this idea of not making a choice that someone might feel wronged by...or at least the idea of considering that when making your decision.  and the idea of losing an opportunity to right a wrong.  these are beautiful, beautiful things.

and understand something...my cousin's mom?...she's not any sort of mom of the year.  she's done some pretty awful stuff...to my cousin, to her sister's, to my grandmother's son who's her ex-husband.  she's got some pretty big addictions and issues.  but my grandmother doesn't hold that against her.  she just sees her as her granddaughters' mother, her son's ex-wife, someone her life will always be connected to, someone she once loved a lot and probably still loves...without partiality...equal to all of us.  which is cool also. 

i'm not such a great writer these days.  it's hard for me to capture what i feel, what i want to say in words.  that's part of why i don't blog much lately.  it's a pride thing.  heh.  but i wanted to write down these good words from my grandmother.  and i just wanted to write about her a little bit.  about her smile...she lets her eyes do most of the smiling these days because she's self-conscious about her teeth (she's only got a few left).  about her skin...that's smooth and light and thin.  about her hair that she wore permed and kind of poofed for so long...and how much i love it grey and straight.  and can you believe she told me a story about a guy hitting on her a few years ago?  and how she told him to go on.  and she giggled the whole time.  she tickles me.  and makes me proud.  and makes me humble.  i hope i can pass on some of the things she's brought to my life.