Grandma

This is a picture of my Grandmother, my dads mom.  I love this picture, it has to be one of my favorites.  I have no idea when it was taken but if I had to guess I would say the 1940's or 1950's.  She is working on a quilt, no idea if she was making it or repairing it.  I love the light.  I love the focus.  I love her apron.  I love the sink full of dishes and the counter cluttered with the the unending work of this life.  So many things to do, yet she takes a moment to sit and sew, something I know she enjoyed doing.  She's the reason I quilt.

Today was her birthday and if she were still alive today she would be 103.

A few things I remember and loved about my grandmother:

She was full of sayings and had wisdom to give under almost any circumstance.

She was tenacious and strong all 5' 2" (if that) of her.  She used to complain that when it came to her height she "got gypped".  Her own mother was 5'8" and one of her sisters was 6' tall and her Uncle Jim was 6' 7".  My Granddad used to tell her that the good Lord made her just the right height for him.  He was only 5'6".

She taught me how to crochet at the age of six because I begged her so relentlessly, she told me I was too young and that it wouldn't keep my interest long enough to complete even a hot pad.  At six I had to prove her wrong and made not only one hot pad but two.  I still crochet.

She gave birth to 10 children.  One of whom she bore the burden of his preceding her in death at the tender age of 4 from cancer, something she never recovered from, but had learned to live with.  As a teenager I asked her about my Uncle and she told me with tears in her eyes how she had held her baby in her arms, in helpless despair as he slipped away.

She taught me the meaning of unconditional love, something I still strive to practice.

She used to say that the bible was her "yardstick".  She measured all by Gods word.

She loved to read and always regretted not having had the opportunity to go to college in her youth.

And she taught my mama how to bake bread.  Well . . . actually she taught my mama how to cook.

Wish I had paid attention.