by Linda Batey

Created on: July 12, 2010

I was fortunate to grow up in my grandmother's home. My parents were divorced when I was four and my mother, who had never worked before needed a fresh start for my three older brothers and I. Grammy took care of us during the day, along with my grampy who had suffered a stroke years before. I'm sure their quiet home became a madhouse once we moved in, but we certainly never felt that we were anything but welcome.

My grandmother was a Christian lady who strongly believed she was very blessed, and even though the only money coming in was from my mother's paultry check, Grammy was always giving.  Giving phone calls to friends, giving delicate handmade doilies as gifts, giving home-baked goodies to families that she knew never had them, and making quilts for the Grange's annual raffle.

My grandfather died when I was ten, and Grammy was just lost. Even though he hadn't been able to say a word in years, the love between them was unmistakable. She said she couldn't wait to join him in heaven.

Now that her bedroom was a lonely place, she would invite me into her sanctuary in the evenings for company. Just the fact that it had always been off-limits made it very inviting, but after spending a few evenings with her in her room I got to know her even better than I already did. 

She would sit on the edge of her bed and pull a small table with folding sides over in front of her. Her huge Bible would be opened and she would say a short silent prayer before studying her Bible.  The first time I saw her making notes in her Bible was a shock-wasn't that illegal?  Now that she's gone and I have her Bible, I can't even begin to express what those markings and writings mean to me. I',m sure glad she didn't think it was illegal.

I would sit at her vanity, which was the prettiest piece of furniture in the house. The wood was mahogany and she kept it meticulously polished so that the beautiful whorls in the wood would shine through.  It also had a mirror and the glass was old and stained and made my face look misshapen if I looked at the right spot.  I would sit there and roll my hair with her curlers, play with her collection of dime-store jewelry and brush blush on my cheeks. One drawer contained her collection of ladies hankies, all adorned with the tiniest crocheted edging and impossibly small embroidery. I loved to just take the top one and smell it because it smelled just like her, mixed with the scent of a small soap she kept in the drawer to make them smell fresh.

By now, she would have finished her nightly Bible study and would disappear into the bathroom to change into her nightdress, robe and slippers.  She'd grab a deck of cards from one of the drawers of the vanity and shuffle them as she got comfortable on her bed.  She loved to play solitaire and would play for about an hour. She'd tell me whether "old Sol" was winning or losing in between talking with me about my day. She was always interested in how I spent my day at school and if I'd done my studying when I got home. She knew the names of my friends and my enemies and she knew my dreams. 

I always felt so special when I was in her room with her.  She taught me so many things about being a Christian, a wife, a mother, a friend and a grandmother.  She is in heaven now, but I am the fortunate owner of her Bible and of the beautiful vanity. If everyone had had my grandmother and her sanctuary to go to every night, there would be very few troubled people in this world. Thanks for sharing with me, Gram.

Learn more about this author, Linda Batey.
Click here to send this author comments or questions.