I found it in one of my old Bibles when I was preparing to speak at a women’s conference.
A letter from my grandmother.
Postmarked September 29, 2001…not long after 9-11. In the wake of what seemed the end of the world.
She wanted to surprise me with a letter. She’d written dozens to me throughout all the years we lived in two different states, since I was six. In her eighties, however, her fine penmanship had begun to look shaky on the page. She had taken to making phone calls more and more.
She writes of the beautiful day: sunny and bright, the sky so blue. I’m planning to walk a short distance when I finish and feel good…
She writes of family, that she talks to my daddy every night, and tomorrow she will see him. She writes that my mother seems to be doing good, better than we even thought! I no longer remember the context of this statement; my mother was frequently in poor health, in body and in mind.
She writes of my Aunt Pat’s moonflower, presently blooming, and asks if I remember her moonflower growing around the stump of Granddaddy’s pecan tree by the old dirt road and that she once had another by the pump house…its runners grew on the pump house, shrubs nearby, and the fence.
For a minute, I am there, walking in long ago, seeing the profusion of white blooms, breathing their perfume…
Then she tells me not to worry about her. She had given up her house and had come to live with my aunt; at 85, unsteady on her feet and occasionally falling, she could no longer live alone. She writes: I have accepted it, like a death. You have to carry on.
She admits to crying a lot at first. Then: I’m not going to complain. I still have so much to be thankful for. I read recently that to be happy, you should act happy, so I’m trying to think happy thoughts and smile more…I think of you often because you have always been a big part of my happiness as well as Grand-daddy’s!
She read books; she played tapes of gospel music; she prayed for God to see fit to take care of our world problems. She writes of violence and violent people not knowing what being happy is.
She misses her piano, her most-prized possession. She says that since she couldn’t take it with her when she gave up the house, she’s glad I wanted it: I hope it will bring much happiness to you and the boys.
She would never know that my youngest would learn to play on that piano, that he would become a phenomenal musician, that he would learn to sing all the harmonies in gospel songs, that he would eventually obtain a college degree in this, that he would lead choirs.
She writes that she hopes to see me and the children soon, even if for a little while, knowing I’d go visit my parents, too. She so wanted to spend time with my children…
She closes with her love and prayers too.
Two tiny notes are included also, one for each of my children, then ages twelve and four. In the note to the youngest she mentions hummingbirds…they will soon be flying to a warmer climate but will come back at Easter.
As I hold these written treasures in my hands, savoring every word, a little shadow flickers at the kitchen window. A hummingbird, coming to my freshly-refilled feeder.
A year to the day after Grandma wrote this letter, my father would die suddenly. The flood of grief would overwhelm her; dementia would soon settle in, and she would be in a nursing home for four years until her death at age 90.
I reread of the beautiful day, sunny and bright, the sky so blue, that she’s talking to my father every night, that my mother’s doing better than anyone ever expected… I reread her words of acceptance and carrying on, of her great love and prayers for me. I think about how these buoyed me through every day of my life…even now.
I fold the letter back into its old envelope. I finish my lesson for the women’s conference, on learning the unforced rhythms of grace.
I carry Grandma’s letter with me.
I carry on.
*******
with thanks to Two Writing Teachers for the Tuesday Slice of Life Story Challenge
lit bits and pieces 
Of course, this makes me cry. What a blessing to have that letter. But also so bittersweet with the knowing now of what the future held for her beyond that beautiful day. I’m coming to believe this is the only way to live, each day, each moment. I should be writing letters to my own grandchildren. Are you writing to yours? I cannot fathom a day that is not as beautiful as this one, the birds outside my window loud with rejoicing.
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I need to write letters to my granddaughters, Margaret. My blog is a form of it. Not quite the same has handwritten, though – which is so much more intimate. This spring has indeed brought some incomparably beautiful days. Birds… we have a horde of hummers now, draining the sugar-water feeder every other day. The first batch of the season’s baby bluebirds now feeds and sits on the fence every evening. Last weekend I watched Mama bluebird drive a cowbird away from her house, so I expect there are more eggs or nestlings. The finches have sent five new fledglings out into the world (the eggs that were laid during Holy Week) and the mother is incubating five more… one was laid on my birthday. I told my husband it was my gift. All of it is, really. As are you and your words – thank you.
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Fran, there is an entire universe – past, present, and future – of love in that letter. I can see from the way your grandma brings us to the moonflower that there are many more roots growing in the gift of writing, the gift of legacy, the gift of music. This is a treasure, and how special it is that you have this letter for the days it is most needed, so you can hear the voice from the past with her reassurance: carry on.
My heart is full today with your words.
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Kim, I needed to focus on the unforced rhythms of grace and carrying on, right when I found this long tucked-away letter. I figured if I needed this, the ladies at the conference might, too. You mention the moonflower – I had already looked up the symbolism, after rereading and contemplating Grandma’s words. It hit home for me, in the context of her life at the time she wrote this letter as well as in an inherent message to me: Since they bloom in the darkness, moonflowers are also symbols of the ability of beauty to emerge in dark times. They can provide hope for people who are going through tough times and encourage them to seek positivity. Also this: Moonflower teaches the soul graceful unfoldment as it helps reestablish trust and stability at one’s core. Her darkest times were coming, after that letter, as were some of mine. I drew strength from her then and now. That’s the power of words. And of love, which never dies. I told the ladies that grace, forgiveness, and love are triplet sisters. May have to write a poem on that. As always – YOUR words encourage and inspire me, friend! Thank you.
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What a gift to find this letter! I wish I could be at the women’s conference to soak up your words on the unforced rhythms of grace. Wonderful to have her words and to stumble across them so many years later. She showed you how to carry on.
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You are so gracious and encouraging to me, Ramona! Grandma really did teach me much about carrying on. I needed her words right when I found that letter, long tucked away.
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How beautiful. How simple and humble, yet universal and eternal. And the hummingbird- wow. Reading this is making me vow to write more letters to my own grandchildren, so thank you for that gift as well!
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My grandmother loved birds, cardinals and hummingbirds especially. I learned much about rhythms of nature ad well as rhythms of grace from her. And – I needed her words at the very time I rediscovered her letter.
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If ever there was a testament to the value of letter-writing, it is this. Oh, I hope the practice does not EVER go the way of the dinosaur. Here are the bones, the flesh, the blood that makes life worth living. Tears from here, too, and gratitude that you shared this with us.
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Thank you for this heartfelt response, Trish. My grandmother endured much loss in her life; I draw strength from her example, her words, and her love – which I still feel, for love lives on.
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What a gift of grace that letter was to you! Your writing touched my heart. It brought to mind the last few cards I own with my mother’s handwriting in them. There is something about having that person’s handwritten messages that makes them seem closer to us.
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The handwriting does bring the person’s presence back to us – in fact, I can almost hear my grandmother’s voice speaking when I read it. Thank you so much for this sweet comment.
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This is so beautiful and touching. You are so lucky to have this physical reminder of your connection to family.
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Thank you, Becky – and I needed that letter, right when I found it. Grandma was my comfort and advocate since I was a child – and still is.
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How beautiful this letter (and this slice!) is. It made me think of my own grandparents, all no longer with us. Of their letters to me, of their cursive that turned shaky. Of the wisdom the older people in our lives can give us. Thank you for sharing some of her words and her story with us.
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I am glad this brought memories of your grandparents, Amy – the wisdom and love of older generations is a pricless, lifelong gift, even when they are no longer here, as you mention. Thank you for your words!
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Oh my Lord, Fran! You must write a book on the unforced rhythms of grace! You must! Your writing is so beautiful and moving. I love your grandmother’s words: I read recently that to be happy, you should act happy, so I’m trying to think happy thoughts and smile more… I will borrow her words and carry them with me too.
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You inspire and encourage me so much, Joanne. Learning the “unforced” rhythms of grace is a challenge…contextually it’s done by being yoked to Christ, drawn from the paraphrase of Matthew 11:28-30 in The Message. My grandmother taught me much about this, in the way she lived her life. Your words are always a treasure to me, friend!
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When I was in 4th grade, People would ask me what I wanted to be when I grew up. I replied, “I want to be like Jesus.” They laughed, but I really did want to be like Jesus. I think because of that he has held me in his hand and guided me. I am so ever grateful for that. So very grateful. Please write that book. So many people need your wisdom.
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How incredibly moving. My eyes are flooded with emotion and gratitude for you for having shared such a beautiful moment of your life. The bond between you two, her marvelous way if seeing life, and how she captured all that for you. How powerful is the written word and what a powerful message from your grandmother. Thank so much for sharing; my day is already great because of this.
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My day is great now because of this lovely response. Ana – thank you so much. Let me just add that I really needed that letter, right when I found it.
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Fran, what a beautiful and detailed description of your grandmother’s love for you, as shown through her letter. I can only imagine the beauty and peace and contemplation that is/will be happening in your lesson on “learning the unforced rhythms of grace.” Amen and amen.
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Thak you for your words, Denise. I think the lesson went well – learning the unforced thythms of grace (part of Eugene Peterson’s paraphrase of Matthew 11:28-30) is something I strive for every day. There’s freedom in it. In accepting and in gviig it. I told the ladies that forgiveness, love, and grace are triplet sisters. I read portions of Grandma’s letter along with bits of her story that taught me much about learning these rhythms.
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