Love, Books, and Crochet Hooks

Granny has been doing amazingly well the past week or so. She seems to be less anxious, more clear, and relates more to all of us.

She is doing word search puzzles, she reads the newspaper everyday along with her devotional. She also reads books and magazines almost daily. She seems more engaged when watching her old movies. Even laughing out loud when appropriate. When Gran arrived here, word searches were out of the question. She showed little interest in reading and when she attempted to, she gave up quickly. So I am thankful that in these ways she is improving.

As long as I have known her, Granny has been an avid reader. A very frugal woman, she never seemed to mind buying the next Janette Oke book. Fortunately for me, her little library was always at my disposal. She never read anything that a young girl shouldn't read, so I could have my pick of it all. At first, The Grandma's Attic Series, The Mandie Books, and The Laura Ingalls Wilder Series. As I grew older, Janette Oke, Lori Wick, and Traci Peterson books. I read the covers off the Love Comes Softly Series (Janette Oke). I read a bit too much romance even if it was Christian romance, but it was better than most of what is out there for teens to read today.

She loved some Barbara Johnson (Stick a Geranium in Your Hat and Be Happy), Catherine Marshall books, and anything the Billy Graham society sent her. I didn't read these until after I was "grown up" and married. I may have to grow in to Barbara Johnson but I received a blessing from Catherine Marshall and her "Man Called Peter".

This list of books may seem light-weight to some. It wasn't until I was older that I was privy to the details of Gran's life. Her REAL LIFE was HEAVY-WEIGHT, so you'll excuse her for spending countless happy hours in good, clean, simple fiction and every edition (literally) of Chicken Soup for the Soul.

I was always amazed at her ability to work a crossword. I always struggled to fill in half of the empty boxes but she always worked until she was finished even if it meant filling in the last word the next day when the answers to the previous day's puzzle came. She could do amazing amounts of math in her head and would enlighten me with the Latin she learned as a child.

I learned to crochet literally and figuratively at her feet. Her lap was always warm in the winter time with the newest afghan she was making. She made pillows, baby blankets, and arm chair covers. If it sat still, she made a doily for it. The Christmas tree was covered in crocheted angels and reindeer made of clothes pins. She paper mache'd and painted the little plastic "stained glass" ornaments with us. She introduced us to "puff paint".

I write all of these in the past tense because she doesn't remember that she loved all these things. And that is okay. Because they were just things. What is important is the fondness I feel when I wander the craft aisle, the love that warms me when I cover myself with one of her afghans, the peace I feel when I read the words that once helped her triumph over hard times.

How blessed I am to share all those things with her.