Two days ago, my teammate, Anna, and I were walking to a beach here in Ulcinj, Montenegro. (Random fact: It’s also spelled Ulqin, depending on whether it’s in Albanian or Serbian.) The walk was just beautiful. We could see the ocean, in all its vastness, and the sun was filtering through trees as we walked. The smell of the pines we were walking past filled my nostrils, the beauty overcame me and I just felt joy.
And with each breath of the pine-scented air (better than Pine-sol could ever hope to smell, by the way), I kept having memories of my grandmother and grandfather in Michigan. I always associate the scent of pine with my grandma, because her yard is filled with several pine trees.
My mind went back to when I was four, and my grandpa would press down on the seat of the riding lawnmower, because I wasn’t heavy enough for it to run if I was just sitting on the seat. He would patiently walk behind the mower as I, happy as a lark, “mowed” the lawn. (I later found out that he never put the blade down to actually cut the grass, but I thought I was being helpful.) I remember my grandpa teaching me how to play cribbage and calling me “Monster”, to which I would vehemently scream, “I a teet guh!” I meant to say “I’m a sweet girl,” but my pronunciation of certain words came a bit later for me than for some.
And I’m reminded of my grandma: of countless cups of coffee; of grilled cheese sandwiches on Sunday afternoons; of sitting on the porch with her, my mom and uncle on warm summer days; of staying up way too late at night, just laughing and talking; of the chocolate cake she makes that is pretty much perfection in pastry form. I think of the fun we have while “spring” cleaning her house during the summer and how often the cleanliness she loves has helped me to serve others. I think of watching Pillow Talk with her and discovering the actor Rock Hudson and of our mutual love (some might say obsession) for chocolate.
I admire my grandmother on so many levels. She is kind. She is sweet. She is a wonderful woman. My dad sometimes says that she should be nominated for sainthood, and I don’t disagree. She is a faithful mother, devoted to her children. Seeing how she is so devoted to caring for my uncle has really been a blessing in my life. Her fierce love for her son is just a watered-down version of God’s awesome love for us, but it is a physical representation that has taught me much. She’s active enough that she puts me to shame sometimes! She enjoys food and cooking, relishing in the conversations that come from spending time together in the kitchen.
My grandmother hates seeing lonely people. Whether it be for a Sunday dinner or for a holiday, she is quick to invite others, never wanting anyone to feel alone or unloved during a special season.
So, Grandma, know that, 6 time zones away, I am thinking of you. I am thankful for who you are, for the many laughs we’ve shared, and the hours you played “Hide the gum wrapper” with me during long car rides. I am thankful that you were the mother you were, because that in turn made my own mother into the wonderful mother she has been. I am thankful and grateful that God blessed me with you. Love you!
