Dancing To Her Own Beat

Last post I spoke of my father’s mother. This one I will share about my mother’s mom.

One of my most favorite things I remember about my grandmother was that she was a very independent woman. She was one who saw something that needed to be done, she made sure it got done.

Granny was a walking history book. She could tell you things that happened to a family member or neighbor from the Depresssion and World War II. Some of the stories would have you laughing so hard that tears would be rolling down your cheek and some of the stories would have your heart breaking.

She never once told a story wanting you to think less of that person. Nor did she want you to receive these stories as gossip. To her, they were family history and her way of letting you know why someone might have turned out the way they had.

She loved her husband and children: but often did not know how to express it. Her grandchildren, however, benefited from her love and enjoyed who she was. Her children saw her always working and helping to provide. The grandchildren, we got to see her laughing, singing and dancing.

My grandmother enjoyed music. She could hear music and she would begin to dance. She would glide her four foot eleven inch body across the floor with much ease . She would turn and begin singing as well. Her dark brown eyes would have a twinkle as she would wave to us to join her.

So we would gather around her dancing and trying to copy her gracefulness. My grand father would sit in a chair smiling as all of us surrounded Granny.

Soon, she would begin to laugh and then return to whatever she was doing before the dance.

My grandmother was a woman of simple pleasures. She found joy in things like gardening, traveling and being with people.

To each of us, she taught us to be determined and to realize that you cannot expect someone to change things for you, that you were the one who could make things better. She also taught us not to be afraid to try something new: if we fail, then we were to learn a lesson and to keep trying until we succeed.

I love her and miss her. One thing I feel confident in though: she is dancing with the angels.


My Granny’s Heartbeat

Certain smells such as peppermint, oranges and evergreen trees cause memories to flood over me this time of year.

Sometimes it causes great laughter at the thoughts or deeds of an excited child and sometimes tears to mourn the loss of the people i shared the joys of Christmas with that are no longer with me.

One of the best memories I have is that of my grandmother and laying in her lap listening to her sing as she rocked to and fro in her rocker.

With every movement, there was a small squeak. I would cuddle close and hear her heart beat. She always smelled of Chantily powder and vanilla.

We spent every Christmas this way until I was too big to sit in her lap. So it became our time to sit and talk as I grew older.

On her last Christmas here: I was sitting at her feet and sharing with her what was going on at work and in my life, when she said to me, “You have to let me go.”

I was a little confused, but she continued, “I miss your grandfather and I am so tired. You must release me so that I can go home.”

Then she went to bed. I stayed up and thought about what she was saying to me. It was my love for her and wanting her to always be with me that was keeping her spirit earth bound in a shell that was well worn from living an unselfish life.

Now it was my turn to be unselfish. So in prayer on Christmas Eve, I thanked God for giving me my Granny and allowing her to be so important in my life. And through tears I spoke the words: “God, I release my Granny to Your hands.”

Three days later, my most wonderful grandmother was with her husband and her constant Companion, Jesus.

So every year i remember her and our talks. I remember the feeling of love and give thanks to God that now it is my turn to sit in the rocking chair and hold one of my grandchildren trying to make them feel as loved as I did.


Welcome to all. I hope you enjoy the tales I tell.