You know how the little things are always appreciated more later in life? That is how I feel about relationships. I had so many in my earlier years, before I really knew what they meant, what those people meant, and now I can only wonder. Wonder if they understood that I was young, that I hadn't lived completely yet, that I couldn't wholly grasp the importance of life and love and what it meant to embrace fully those by my side. My grandma is one of those that I wish that I could spend time with again, time spent looking at her with these new eyes, listening with these wiser ears, talking with her about life from this place that I dwell in now. Growing up, I never, ever felt any judgment or condemnation from her, even though I was living a life outside of her understanding. She was Mennonite, and while we attended a Mennonite church also, it was of a more progressive type. I didn't wear dresses or a covering outside of church. I watched television and went to the movies and listened to various genres of music and attended public school. And then there were those years of complete rebellion. I was different and yet, in her home, in her presence, I was just her granddaughter. I have no idea what she thought in her head, but those differences held no weight in her heart. Now, I can only imagine at what our relationship might be like. Then, she would not have understood my desire to put the things that are inside my heart on public display on the outside of my body. Now, I hope that she does.
Grandma, I will always be grateful for your life, for the inheritance of family, and for Love that you lived out. Here's to picking four leaf clovers forever.
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