Many, many
years ago, when I was a teenager, my father’s mother would come and stay with
us for months at a time. She had dissolved her own household years before, and
split her time between several of her children. Contrary to every mother joke
one hears nowadays, Granny’s appearance was always greeted with joy by my
father, my siblings, and me. The reason? No matter what the circumstances, my
grandmother applied Rocking Chair Wisdom, and we loved her for it.
What is Rocking
Chair Wisdom?
Everyone
gets cupcakes, even before dinner.
Peach
pie is a normal breakfast.
Always
talk to the smartest person you know.
“Everyone gets
cupcakes, even before dinner.” The neighborhood children had an uncanny sense
when Granny would arrive (and they unabashedly gazed up and down the street
until she got out of the car from the airport). On more than one occasion, they
showed up at our front door – even before she had taken off her coat or sweater
– and asked for cupcakes. Granny never scolded them for their
even-before-dinner plea. With a gracious smile, she would say, “I’m putting on
my apron, and I will start them right away.”
It didn’t
matter how many children appeared at the door – or how many subsequently
partook of those tasty treats. All were welcome. In this, Granny was imitating
the Lord of lords, to Whom she was devoted. She had no doubt heard that Jesus
enjoyed the company of children (Matthew 18:2-5, Matthew 19:14, Mark 9:36-37,
Luke 18: 15-17), and cupcakes were her way of showing that they were completely
welcome.
Not from this street? Didn’t matter. Age limit? Not with Granny. And
then we would all engage in a short babble-time; Granny heard and commented on
every single story that was told. The kids went away with dinner-spoiling cake
and a feeling of importance they might not have gotten otherwise.
Granny’s Rocking Chair
Wisdom: You can always make enough cupcakes to go around.
“Peach pie is a
normal breakfast.” Now, I was a pretty skinny kid, and Granny fussed over me
during every visit. She worried that my strength would give out somehow – even
though I was engaged in drama, piano, sports (only as the scorekeeper, though),
the school newspaper, and other high-energy activities. She would insist on
ladling my plate with an extra heap of whatever was for dinner (and Allen, my
then-boyfriend, would eat it!!). I was required to gain weight by the time she
departed, and to that end, she devised a special incentive for me: fresh peach
pie.
Anyone with
access to a modern supermarket will know that frozen pies are abundant and
available year-round. However, peaches came our way in an unusual way: they
dropped onto our driveway from the neighbor’s multiple fruit trees, where – if
they were not picked up in time – Dad’s car ran over them and produced a
bee-and-fly-attracting mess. (For some reason, the neighbors were never
observed harvesting any of their fruit.) As soon as I came home from school,
Granny would send me out to our driveway to gather any and all fruit I could find.
I can’t explain why, but I found this task distasteful, because I hated bees
and was afraid of the neighbors’ ire. But once this task was accomplished, I
could help Granny transform the fruit into delicious peach pie. In fact, Granny
usually allowed me two pieces at breakfast – a glorious repast!
And the
connection to our Lord and Savior? “Taste and see that the Lord is good; blessed is the one who takes
refuge in him” (Psalm 34:8). Peaches don’t look like pie crust; however, the
combination of one with the other results in great culinary delight. In the
same way, we sometimes despair when God hands us difficulty. We are tempted to
see the act of gathering and “peeling peaches” as an endless chore; we
sometimes can’t even perceive any “peach pie” at the end.
Granny’s
Rocking Chair Wisdom: When life gives you lemons, make lemonade.
Granny was an
extraordinarily calm and rational person. Although I vaguely remember that she
was not shy about punishing misdemeanors, I also remember that she was
accessible to us grandchildren at any time. Many times, I would pass her
sitting in her favorite chair in the dining room and I would hear her mumble
something. Perceiving that her remarks had not been directed at me, I would
ask, “Who are you talking to, Granny?” She would invariably answer, “I am
talking to the smartest person I know.” However, I don’t recall her ever
explaining who that was. Was it
Granny herself? Was it an angel? Was it God?
However, as the years went on, and
Granny approached her 100th year (she died two weeks short of that
milestone), I realized that talking to her Father in Heaven was second-nature
to a woman who had raised six children as a widow, seen them all launched into
life, then taken the humble path of a rotating visitor to five of her six
children’s homes (one of my aunts was a Catholic nun, and convent life was not
for Granny). As distance separated us in later years, her letters to me were
always full of family news and exhortations to follow Jesus’ teachings.
If there’s one
thing that my Catholic education instilled deeply in me, it is the omnipresence
of God. I have never been tempted to believe that I could hide from God. In
good or bad circumstances, I know without a doubt that my Heavenly Father knows
me and loves me, regardless of my sinfulness. Every rebellious thought is met
by His Love, even though I may take time to realize the truth of this
statement. “If we claim to be without sin, we deceive ourselves and the truth
is not in us. If we confess our sins, he is faithful and just and will forgive
us our sins and purify us from all unrighteousness” (1 John 1:8-9).
I am no prayer
warrior (I wish I were!). I am not consistent with my Bible reading and
praying, but that is a character trait of mine that the Father continues to
work on, because He never gives up on His children. My Granny knew that, and so
must you.
The next time you are
tempted to think you are entirely alone in this word, talk to the smartest
Person you know.
