Granny

As our car pulled around the circle, she stood there on the sidewalk, as always, holding small bunches of autumn crocuses, selling them for pittance. She always caught my eye, as she looked just like my grandmother. My grandma had been graced to be orphaned in the United States during the flu of 1917 and adopted into a doctors family. Raised by his sisters in the gentle pomp of old Virginia, grandma was gracious and amazing. She could cook anything, and when the Depression set in, she organized the Victory Gardens in her community. Great food, faith and fellowship were the hallmark of her home, and she raised pillars of the community in each of her children. Although herself an Ellis Island immigrant, and orphaned at that, she landed on soil which gave her every tool she needed to do her best to create an amazing legacy out of what would have been a tragedy elsewhere.

Perhaps this is why the granny at the stop light pulled so on my heart strings. Although I was only nine, every time I saw her, my heart jumped into my throat. I wanted to adopt her. I wanted to buy all her flowers and see her smile. I wanted her to be able to wear something other than the old man's ragged black coat and the torn slippers. I wanted her blue eyes to catch the light and see hope.

But it was not to be. I was a child, and our family was transient. I only saw granny one other time. This time, my mother stopped the car and got out. She went and gave granny a pair of shoes and a quick hug. As we pulled away, the look on her face burned itself into my memory. She stands there still, for me, in my mind, holding those shoes, looking up, amazed.

A seed was sown. I didn't adopt Granny, but I've adopted others. My grandmother passed her gratefulness to her daughter, my mother, who in turn sowed seeds in us. May we each use our legacy and pass it on. If we build on what we have, our children too will be rich in the things that matter.

Photo by Cristian Newman on Unsplash