A woman of God is a rare treasure
I have wonderful memories of my mother and my two grandmothers. I remember what it felt like to enter their homes at any time of the day. They welcomed me with love. I enjoyed being with them in their homes. I can recreate in my mind that warm, welcoming feeling of being in their presence. The joy they gave me was real, tangible, and heart-felt.
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Grandma Weigold-
Grandma Weigold was my maternal grandmother. She styled her white hair in curls. She was a happy woman that spread the love wherever she went. We entered the porch before knocking on the front door. Grandma would greet us with a hug and a smile. Sunshine flowed through her home, literally and physically.
Grandma’s home was decorated with greenery from her yard which had flowering plants on all four sides. Her avocado, lemon, and grapefruit trees were prolific producers. Grandma wore bright clothing in the colorful mumuus that she wore around the house. Grandma played the piano and composed songs. Her spirit was one of joy and peace.
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Grandma Brumbaugh-
Grandma Brumbaugh was my paternal grandmother. She was a tall, spare woman. Grandma Brumbaugh wore her iron gray hair in a soft bun. At night, she plaited her hair in a long, thick braid. Sometimes she let me brush her hair before she braided it. Grandma Brumbaugh baked bread, pies, and cookies on Saturdays. I often went to her house when she was baking. We would talk while she baked. I loved this aspect of our time together.
My connection with grandma was special. Her quiet ways were similar to mine. She liked hearing my stories of high school, friends, and activities. Grandma was a woman of routines. She washed on Monday, baked on Saturday, etc. For pleasure, she tatted. She tatted lace to trim pillows, aprons, and dresses. Grandma sewed her own dresses. She made each of her eight grandchildren a quilt from leftover scraps of calico print material.
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Mother-
My mother was a great cook, a masterful seamstress, and an artist at heart. She knitted, crocheted, painted, and even did woodwork. If Mother put her mind to it, she could do it. On a summer day, I would visit my mother. She would make a large tuna with green salad or bacon, tomato, and cheese sandwiches.
We always drank iced tea. Mother and I canned produce from her garden. Mother was faithful in church and made sure that we attended youth group and Sunday services in our youth. When we were little, she read to us bible stories from a bible story book. Mother’s love, though, was the violin. She loved playing it. She performed solos in church and played in symphonies.
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What my grandmothers and mother had in common was their faith. Their faith guided them in their pursuits, in they way they lived, how they treated their husbands, and in how they raised their families. They all read God’s Word and prayed. When we were school age, my mother would make us breakfast and then sit on the couch reading her bible and praying. That’s how she started her day.
Both my grandmothers’ bibles were well-marked with notes and underlinings. We would talk about spiritual concepts whenever the subject came up. A spiritual heritage cannot be measured, but its value is substantial. My mother and grandmothers put into my life spiritual teachings that have impressed on me the quiet grace of a woman of God. I am grateful for their Christian examples and unconditional love.
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I close with these words.
You will teach them to fly, but they will not fly your flight.
You teach them to dream, but they will not dream your dream.
You teach them to live, but they will not live your life.
Nevertheless, in every flight, in every life, in every dream, the print of the way you taught them will remain.
-Mother Teresa
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I wish you well on your spiritual journey.
