It really is.... the hand of Grace, my Grandmother, Grace. It is also the hand of God's grace, showing "the incomparable riches of His grace, expressed in His kindness to us in Christ Jesus." Eph. 2:7 Grandma Grace is 93 years old and her life has changed dramatically in the last year, from married, independent, living on the farm to being a widow again and now living in a skilled care nursing home.
She has now become one of the many who sit in their wheelchairs in halls or lobbies of nursing homes sleeping, waiting. I never wanted that for her. But, when she sees me, smiles and says, "Well, Brenda. How nice to see you!", I rejoice that she remembers my name. I am so grateful to God for giving us more time with her. She is living beyond what was expected by the doctors - it is in God's time. We speak mostly of the past - her past. Although she does ask about the family. But, I'm not sure if she remembers who they are. I cherish my time with her.
I have so many memories of spending time with her. Staying overnight while in grade school and sleeping in a tent with her step-daughter, chasing cows in her field, eating hot oatmeal, hearing her say, "Brenda! You've never made homemade bread?!!", having coffee in the farmhouse kitchen and her open invitations to stay for dinner.
Her fingernails are now polished and beautiful. I'm not sure that she ever had that in years past. Now someone does it for her, no more garden dirt under them. Just idle hands waiting... waiting for God's timing.
