Her Hands

Truthfully I had MANY grandmothers. My dad’s mom passed when I was three. I have VERY little memories of her. But God gave me lots of grandmas. There was Granny Pace, Granny Smith, Grammy Lucy, and they each taught me something different. But I remember very vividly each of their hands. I can see Granny Pace as she crotched and knit with her crooked knuckles. I can see Granny Smith’s as she peeled a peach in one loooong strip. I can see Grammy Lucy’s as she would lick one finger to turn a page in my favorite storybook. Granny Pace passed when I was in Junior high, Grammy Lucy when I was a senior in high school and Granny Smith I walked to last week. When I look at their hands I see history. I see hard work. I see love. I see home. One day I will be a grandma (hopefully a long time from now!) But I hope my hands feel like home to my grandchildren!

One of those Grandmothers left me a heritage starter for sour dough bread. I have been asked how old the starter is and I have no idea. maybe 100 years or so. Check out another post to read more about the bread. I have one grandmother who gave me a father who loves God’s Word and her gift was his faith. I have one who gave me the gift of courage to fight big fears. Each priceless. Each making me who I am. Each contributing to what HOME feels like for me.