Grandma

Everything I do lately reminds me of my grandma. I was hard-boiling eggs the other day, and as I was peeling them, remembered how Grandma taught me that fresh eggs are harder to peel than older eggs. That is why she always bought her regular eggs at DairyMart, and her hard-boiling eggs somewhere else, or just let the eggs sit for a week before boiling them. When I was making deviled eggs I thought of her--she always made them for us.

I mopped the laundry room floor with my foot on a rag the other day--just like Grandma does.

I remember Grandma's kindness to children and am a better mother. She thinks my children are simply amazing, and that I am an amazing mother. I try to live up to her praise.

A couple of weeks ago I made her cinnamon rolls.

I think of her when I go to Costco.

Whenever I open my fridge I see my peaches, pears, applesauce, pickles, salsa, relish and chili sauce that I canned with Grandma. I have her favorite kind of filbert from the farm in there, too.

When I'm baking with Elise I remember how patient Grandma always was with me. How she would let me make the chocolate chip cookie dough and then put it on the trays for me, because I hated that part. One time she got a nifty little tool for me to use. How she always had a "kid knife"--that wasn't too sharp--for us to use. How she always let me help make fruit salad with pudding. Peeling carrots and eating the (clean) peelings.

Whenever I use a utensil I think of her--she bought me all my silverware. She even bought "ice cream" spoons like we used to steal from Grandpa.

When I fulfill my calling (compassionate service leader) I think of what she went through, and have an increased love for the sisters who are struggling with health concerns.

When I see my piano I remember her wanting to buy a keyboard and asking me to get a good one for her--she made me feel like an expert.

When I'm in the den and see my sewing machine I think of the hundreds of quilts she has sewn. My rainbow quilt when I was a little girl. My denim quilt she made for my first year of girl's camp. My t-shirt quilt she made for my high school graduation. The quilt she helped me make for Stephen when we got married. It's on my bed now, and just another reminder of Grandma's love.

I see Elise dressing up and remember playing dress-up with Grandma's old clothes. I see Elise playing with her dolls and see the doll clothes that Grandma made when my mom was a little girl, that have been passed on to Elise. I am so glad Elise shares Grandma's name!

I think of Elise's name, and of the history behind the Bellon family. I think of Lincoln's name and remember the stories Grandma told about her father.

When I teach my children I remember how Grandma was a teacher, and went to college against the wishes of so many in her small little town. She had the courage and will to do it.

My favorite cookbook has her and Grandpa's picture on the cover, and it is full of her favorite recipes. Like her potato salad. She always made several kinds of it--one with everything, one without onions, one without onions or celery.

Whenever I see a root beer can I think of how, once she found out that Stephen loves root beer, she always had her fridge stocked with it when we came to visit. Cheese sticks and juice boxes for the kids. Her candy jar by the Second Kitchen outside door. Organizing her kitchen drawers for her.

How she would always pay me way beyond generously. Making me take breaks after I'd been working for only an hour. How she would tell me I was such a good present wrapper. Even in December she had a little project for the kids to do--sorting quarters--anything to make them feel important.

When I'm downstairs reading books to the kids I see the books she gave me both when I was a little girl and that she has given me more recently--books she always had at her house when I would visit as a little girl. I bought the game Rack-O because I have such fond memories playing it at her house on Kings.

I see my globe in the living room and think of all the places she and Grandpa have traveled. Australia, Sweden, all over the US.

Grandma's life really wasn't about her. It was about loving and serving and taking care of others. And the beautiful thing is, it's who she really is. There is nothing fake about Grandma. She is genuinely loving and thoughtful and kind. She really does think I'm amazing. She really does think my kids are remarkable. Who could help but love her? I love her.