God moves through grandparents

My Grandpa Maurie taught me to dance — not the styles you’d commonly see in today’s times but rather, the treasured steps he danced with my grandma as he courted her, dated her and eventually (I imagine), took her in his arms for the first time as husband and wife. It’s because of his dance lessons around the kitchen table that I know how to polka. 

Why the reminiscing? Holidays with family get me thinking. As a child, life seems like an endless string of cherished memories playing on loop with the same actors. Sure, we kids grew taller, Dad’s mustache disappeared, Mom’s hair flattened and grandparents (especially grandmas) shrank; but year after year, they were there. 

My mom and I were talking on the phone several weeks ago, looking ahead to our Christmas celebration. It wouldn’t be in our childhood family home for the first time, “but that’s ok,” I reassured her. Then she started talking about how time passes and things change. “Remember how Grandma Dolly used to sit next to Dad at the head of the table?” “Yeah,” I said. “That was always her spot.” I remembered how Grandpa Maurie used to sit right next to her. “I still get an ache in my heart seeing those empty chairs,” Mom said softly. I nodded in agreement, forgetting I was on the phone. 

Maybe it was because of the conversation with my mom or it could have simply been that I was caught up in the moment but as I sat knees-to-knees with Grandma Elaine on Christmas Eve, I experienced something I hadn’t in the past. I found myself “resting” in her. As she spoke I clung to our conversation, absorbing each word. Time stopped as I took in all I could of our time together. 

Grandma recently spent some time in the hospital — well, hospitals. She’s recovering and beginning to rebuild her strength. The timing of those health scares made us all even more thankful to be together at Christmas. Having her smiling face at the dinner table was the best gift and an answer to our prayers. 

So how do we avoid missed opportunities and make it a priority to engage with, learn from and carry on the legacy of our grandparents? 

We slow down.

We shed our egos. 

We put down our phones. 

We step down from our little kingdom of one.

We listen. We learn. And we gratefully accept the wisdom we’re so graciously offered. 

This Christmas, you may have heard laments about how “no good Norwegian puts sugar on lefse” or stories of how taboo it was for Lutherans and Catholics to date in the 1950s. You may have even learned how to say “Good day you damn fool,” in Norwegian. (There’s a grandma story behind that one.) No matter the conversation, you likely gleaned something special you’ll remember for a long time — it may unknowingly be the last memory you get with a loved one. 

God has divine truths to teach you, life lessons best taught through storytelling and tradition. But you must stop to listen. It may not be easy; it may take patience but it’s important. Why? Because God moves, however slowly, through grandparents. 

Mom, Grandma and me on Christmas Eve

Christmas Eve dinner