Thursday, April 28
I once knew a woman who was as strong as an ox and as kind-hearted as her favorite dog. She could pluck a head from a chicken, and bottle-feed six bucket calves at once. She was stern and rule-abiding, but took care of her husband like she was Mother Teresa. She believed in God and put the fear of Him into others. She had kind words to say about her neighbors and friends, but I'm certain she knew a few cuss words as well. She could cook a mean Thanksgiving dinner and left her doors open to anyone.
She spent years and decades of her life taming an awnry farmer from Banner County and watching wheat fields grow a little and grow a lot. She taught children and raised children and treated her cows like children. To this day, I think they all have names.
She had stories; and lots of them. Stories about driving a trailer to Kentucky to meet her new groom. Stories about being engaged when she met said groom; giving me confidence that we may not always know what we're doing, but we eventually get it right. Stories about the hills and rocks that landscaped their home. Stories about the hundreds of rattlesnakes that fell victim to her shovel. Stories about plane trips and Nebraska hicks, showing her true humorous side. Stories of the sixty-some years she spent with that awnry Nebraska man. Like I said, lots and lots of stories.
She also spent years looking out her big, picture window in her kitchen, while she listened to KNEB radio. (I know I picked up my country-listening-habits from her.) I also know I got pieces of my humor, bits of my compassion, and particles of my stubborness and independence from her.
She was my grandma.
And we love and miss you already. Tell Grandpa, Adam, and Krista we said hello. :-)