Women

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We all have memories I'm sure of going to see our grandmothers on Thanksgiving or Christmas. The road trip to see her and the anticipation of all those wonderful, smelling treats and goodies. We can't wait to see that smile and the warm arms to hug us. The kiss on the cheek and the look of kindness and love. The warm house after the long cold trip there. Trying to help her cook or do some small task she always let us do to make us feel special. This is how I felt. Always welcome and like I was going to my own family's home. I wasn't in the way I was a part of the family. And that is how it was.

Grandmothers are like that. Though I have no memory of my great grandmother I can see her through my dad's eyes in how he described her. Here is how he remembered her in his own words:





Memories


I well remember my maternal grandmother,


Emeline Johnson Caldwell.


Why and how, do I remember her?


I recall she was a rather heavy set lady, with smiling eyes, wore long ankle length dresses,


long dark hair that hung in waves, let down it reached the floor.


Now those same eyes could show displeasure, if her grandson disobeyed.


She lived in a green bungalow house-


She wanted me to live with her


She showed me untiring kindness and affection


She baked me lots of pies, apple, peach, pumpkin and berry, and cherry pies.


She doctored my bruised feet or hands-


She walked me to church, with fresh starched shirt and pants, let me wear my grandpa's bow tie


She told me about Christ, so vividly, I almost could see him.


She let me whittle with grandpa's pearl handle knife.


She tucked me in bed so calm and assured, I never feared


I recall her passing, but these other things will pleasantly live with me forever.


This is somewhat the impression Christ heartily wished his children to remember- not dwell on death but life.


The love, kindness, thoughtfulness, the acts of various kinds that enrich our lives considering them


and trying to be the kind of person He displayed at all times


Everyone dies, not everyone lives the good life!


by
My father.
James Gargus
at
www.lancessoulsearching.com

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