Christmas Quilts

Most writers are inherently selfish with the space their words occupy - they do not like to share. Today, however, I am pleased to share some words written by my daughter, Elizabeth (who happened to be named after her great-grandmother).  I share not just because she is my daughter but because I believe they are poignant and powerful words.  They spoke to my heart and reminded me how tender her heart is. I pray her words speak to you as well.

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It’s Christmas time again.  I’m sitting on my bed wrapped up in a quilt while the radio sings, “And so I'm offering this simple phrase, to kids from 1 to 92, all though it's been said many times, many ways, Merry Christmas to you..  I remember always having problems with that song when I was a kid. I was worried that the guy singing it wasn’t wishing a “Merry Christmas” to people over 92, and I had great-grandparents who were over 92.

My great-grandparents, or Grandma and Grandpa as everyone called them, were some of the most special people I had the privilege of knowing.  Their presence was an integral part of the fabric of my childhood. I was blessed to know them as long as I did. I spent many hours at their house when I was growing up. I can still remember going to their house every Friday night for dinner with all of the family who lived nearby. We would put all the leaves in their kitchen table then gather around. Grandpa was always at the head of the table. Dinner itself varied from week to week--sometimes pizza, others KFC, and others my dad would grill hamburgers and hot dogs. The conversations those nights would vary, but some of the same general topics would come up--religion, politics, world events, things going on at school or church, almost anything and everything under the sun.  Many hours were spent around that table laughing and talking.  Friday nights became the highlight of my week and I never wanted to miss out.

Grandma was a retired school teacher, and would always be teaching me things, even up to her last days. I can still remember the trick that she taught me to remember my 9’s multiplication facts. Grandma also loved to cook. My brother and I would help her cut up hot dogs to put on our frozen pizza and add lots of extra cheese.  Even though I don’t remember it, I have been told by my parents that we would also help Grandma put broccoli on our pizzas.  My mom cleaned house for them, and while she cleaned upstairs, we would go downstairs and play and watch TV--usually things like “Mr. Roger's Neighborhood”, “The Big Comfy Couch”, “Between the Lions”, and whatever else might have been airing on PBS at the time. Spending time at Grandma and Grandpa’s house was in integral piece of my childhood.  

Grandma also spent many hours at her sewing machine putting together blocks to make quilts. Everyone in our family has at least one quilt, if not more, made by Grandma. When I was in second or third grade, Grandma was diagnosed with a form of leukemia. By this point, she and grandpa had both lost much of their independence and required walkers to get around their house. I can remember her having to go to the hospital every so often to get blood transfusions. I was old enough then to understand that Grandma was sick, but I didn’t fully understand what was making her sick. The summer before my fourth grade year, Grandma died. My mom told me that Grandma was probably up there playing basketball with Jesus, which made me smile even though I was sad. Our church was packed when we celebrated her life at her memorial service, everyone that knew Grandma came.

I’m sure Grandma’s death must have been hard on Grandpa, but he continued on. After over sixty years of marriage, I can’t imagine losing your spouse not being hard. It wasn’t long after Grandma died that Grandpa became wheelchair bound. One of the things I remember about Grandpa was his love of Jesus. He would tell anyone and everyone about his personal Savior Jesus Christ. Before Grandma died, he wrote his own gospel tract and everywhere that the two of them went he would leave copies of the tract. I remember going along once when my mom took them to a doctor’s appointment and Grandpa left several of his tracts on the table in the waiting room. Every morning he and Grandma would read their Bibles together and would pray for people--they had a very long list of people that they prayed for daily. After Grandma died he still read his Bible every morning but also started going through the phone book and would send each and every person a letter explaining what he was doing, enclosing a tract, and then prayed for the person who he was sending the letter to. Because he was home-bound, this was his way of spreading the gospel. Grandpa’s health continued going downhill, like everyone in their 90's. When his daughter, my grandma, and I would go grocery shopping for him, there were a couple of things he would always want us to buy for him--Jimmy Dean breakfast sandwiches, braunschweiger, and sharp cheddar cheese. When looking at his diet, it is amazing that he lived as long as he did. He died December of my freshman year of high school.  That Christmas was especially sad. We held his memorial service just two days before Christmas.

Like everyone who has ever lost a loved one, Christmas time is hard without them. Yes, time helps, but their memories are always there. Most years for Christmas, I would receive a quilt Grandma had made. To this day, I still sleep under the quilts Grandma gave me. As we approach this special time of year, let us not forget the memories of those who came before us and continue to make new memories with those that we love.