What is The World's Story About? Thoughts about My Grandma's Life and Passing

                                                                Barbara Jane Millar
                                                     
                                                              ("Grandma Millar")

         "A child may ask. "What is the world's story about?" And a grown man or woman may wonder, "What way will the world go? How does it end, and while we're at it, what's the story about?"
          "I believe that there is one story in the world, and only one, that has frightened and inspired us so that we live in a Pearl White serial of continuing thought and wonder. Humans are caught- in their lives, in their thoughts, in their hungers and ambitions, in their avarice and cruelty, and in their kindness and generosity too- in a net of good and evil.I think this is the only story we have and that it occurs on all levels of feeling and intelligence. Virtue and vice were warp and woof of our first consciousness, and they will be the fabric of our last, and this despite any changes we may impose on field and river and mountain, on economy and manners. There is no other story. A man, after he has brushed off the dust and chips of his life, will have only the hard, clean questions : Was it good or was it evil? Have I done well-or ill?"

                                        John Steinbeck- East of Eden

               No one can really say it better than Steinbeck. I guess when someone dies, I always find myself thinking about life and those hard, clean questions. What is the point? Why are we here? Are we making a difference? Is it for good?
              My Grandma wasn't just someone who died, she was my Grandma. I didn't know everything about her, but her hard questions, I think can be answered easily, though they really aren't for me to answer. I remember her mostly as a storyteller. She loved to sit around and talk about people, usually people I didn't know, but they were her people. I think she loved people more than I ever knew. I also think she touched more lives than I will ever know. She had her master's in education... I guess you could say little people were her specialty.
             But to me, the best thing that she gave this world, was my mom. And because of that. I know my Grandma must have been brilliant. My mom is anything, but ordinary, and some of that must have come from my Grandma.  She is kind and ambitious. She does the impossible ten times over. She is humble and generous, a tower of strength and a refuge whenever I need her.  She is the queen of resourcefulness (never buy anything, she tells me, I might have it already, or if not, I can probably make it)! My mom can make anything... out of nothing! I've always thought she could have chosen any profession and succeeded, but she chose the most humble, and in many ways the most important- just like her mom- a teacher! Where would we be without teachers? However, my mom isn't a regular teacher, and I have to assume that my Grandma wasn't either. The impact left of students will never leave, and in that way, somewhere out in the world my Grandma is still with us through the changes she left on the lives of others.
           My Grandma was many things, some of which I am still learning and hearing new stories! I think she would have liked getting to know her grand kids more. We got to see her on a "good" day a few weeks before she passed. She was in the hospital for a UTI, and I just had this feeling that we needed to stop by with some flowers. The boys helped me pick some out (cheerful purple gerbera daisies) and we were able to deliver them to her room. She was awake and in a happy mood when we came in. She didn't know who we were, but was still glad for the company. I sat with her and helped her eat her lunch. She told me funny stories that must have been about her own kids. I think she was remembering or thinking it was back then, instead of the present time.  She was talking about behavior issues and how important it is to keep those kids in line! She made me laugh several times during that visit, and she shared a smile with me too. I got to tell her that I loved her, and I will never forget that day.
          What is the world's story about? I think it is about moments like that one with my Grandma. That last light in her eyes, a smile of innocence and genuineness, and good, moments filled with so much good and love.
           I am going to end my thoughts about Grandma, with the following quote. We forget the simplicity of life and it's purpose sometimes, and I think this is fitting:

          "Child, though I am meant to teach you much,
           what is it, in the end,
            except that together we are
           meant to be children
           of the same Father,
           and I must unlearn
           all the adult structure
           and the cumbering years
           and you must teach me
           to look at the earth and the heaven
           with your fresh wonder."
                                          -Jane Tyson Clement

I wish I had the right words to say about her. I wish I could be more of a comfort to my mom, who I know is missing her so much. All I know, is that now she finally has peace and rest. You are loved, Grandma.

The Misfit

This morning I was feeling confident, proud even. After a month of sweating it out in my living room a pair of pre-baby pants gracefully slipped over my hips. I even buttoned them with ease! Later on in the day, we decided to make an outing to Old Navy. They were having a One Day Wonder sale on polo shirts for $5 (I thought they'd be great for Martin to wear to work, but they had no pocket, and aparently this is very important to him... so we didn't actually buy any polos) I wasn't really planning on buying anything, but while I was browsing the clearance racks a few things practically jumped into my basket.
Now, if you are like most women, you avoid the dressing room at all cost. It looks good on the hanger and that is the size you wore last time you bought something, so it should fit, right? This is a terrible mistake, however we all know what is going to happen in the fitting room. The things we wanted to fit somehow look like a completely different garment than we imagined, and the size we hoped to be, well... is still a dream in the making.
I decided to face the fitting room today since I did have the advantage of a husband to help out with the boys. I found this great pair of jeans that they wanted practically nothing for. Of course the jeans were one size smaller than the pants I was wearing. I took them anyway and with brave optimism I stepped behind the curtain . Now it was just me and the jeans. Silently I began chanting, begging, pleading, "please fit, please fit, please fit!" I got one leg in up to my thigh- it was already looking questionable. I begged some more as I squeezed the second leg in, and then the jumping, shaking, and, wiggling began. Taking a deep breath, I sucked in everything I could and fastened the button victoriously. If getting in to the jeans truly was the goal, I would have been a champion, but unfortunately I needed to look good in them too and my reflection wouldn't lie. I kept trying different angles, telling myself that they could look good on me. The girl in the mirror set me straight with, "Stop fooling yourself, you won't even be able to sit down! Just face it, you may never wear this size comfortably again!"
She was right. I removed the too-tight jeans, and slipped back into my own pants. I gave myself a second look. They weren't so bad. I could button them without "stuff" hanging over the waistline.
I hate fitting rooms, but as you can see, it's really all my own fault. We all do it- hoping something is what it isn't, hoping something will make us feel what it can't possibly, and setting expectations too high for ourselves. If there was a fitting room for life I'd probably still pick the wrong jeans to try on... and then I'd realize I look just fine in what I already have.

The Long Way Home

We live about twenty minutes out of town, at least the town where I prefer to do most of my outings. That gives me two options, the freeway, or the long back, country road. Most of the time I take the freeway to wherever we are going, the grocery store, church, grandma’s house. But I like to take the long way home.
Today, after church, I grabbed my favorite white mocha freeze at Dutch Bros, and headed home on the long country road. My two boys were babbling and giggling with each other in the backseat, Elijah stretching his arm out attempting to place a sticker on his brother’s face. They love each other so much! I simply smiled to myself in the rear view mirror ready to enjoy the next twenty minutes.
There is something freeing about driving out in the open where you can see outstretched plains reaching to far away purple mountains topped with snow. We pass cows and horses, even goats roaming in their very own pasture, just as God intended. It is then that I feel, just for a moment, that everything is right and as it should be. I roll the window down and let the breeze fluster my hair a little. Then a voice from the backseat says, “I want my window down too, mommy!” “All right, just a little,” I say. Elijah tells me how many horses were in the meadow out his window. I smile with pride, wonder, and amazement – this boy is growing up too quickly.
A few minutes later, near the half-way mark of getting home, the chatting, giggling and babbling ceases. I look behind me to see two zonked out boys, heads loose- faces angelic. The vault of my heart snaps a picture, so I can remember this moment forever.

The next ten minutes of my drive are just for me. I finish sipping my perfect drink, and think about my life. My struggles, my victories, and thoughts of the future flutter through my mind with new hope in these few minutes of perfect peace. The sun is peeking through the clouds resplendently.