My grandmother, Jane Weaver Nall, passed away two days ago. It is with a great hope that I believe she is at rest and has seen the promised land.
(a short reflection):
Childhood slumber parties with Nannie and Dappie were always filled with certain expectations. would be played, would be watched, ice cream would be offered so that Nannie would feel that much more justified in satisfying her sweettooth, and Nannie's warm bed and presence would comfort me to sleep through the night.
It wouldn't be until the following morning, however, that my child-like anticipation would be fulfilled: toast with butter and jelly, eggs, cereal, fruit, orange juice, milk, and water. Perhaps it was because Pop Tarts were my usual morning staple or maybe it was that three glasses to drink from felt satisfyingly indulgent--either way, breakfasts with my grandmother will always be a treasure of my memory.
I am thankful that she slapped too much butter on bread and that she scrambled eggs to perfection. I'm thankful that she taught us as if she had lived in the South her whole life. I'm thankful that she wrote letters by hand until she could no longer. I'm thankful that my grandmother's memory covered a century. I'm thankful for her loyalty and discipline. I'm thankful that her eyes were open to the light and life of Christ, and that such grace has permeated through her veins and into the hearts of her family.
1 month ago