My Nana

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This is my nana – isn’t she adorable?

I had two wonderful grandmothers. They both plugged into their grandchildren, they both were fun. For some reason, though, I really had an extra special fondness for my Nana. My father’s mother.

I think it’s because she was especially funny and real. While Grandmommy taught us how to set a table and serve her guests (we felt so important and grown up) and always had a great craft project for us to do (I’m going to do the same for my grand kids, those were special fun), Nana knew what kind of music we liked and did stuff grandmothers don’t do, like get up on roller skates with her grandchildren at age seventy. She told stories that engaged me, and she put her own inclinations aside for the sake of others. Like being afraid of electricity and thunderstorms, but standing on the front porch during them with her sons when they were growing up to make sure she didn’t pass on that fear. And oo-ing and aw-ing over my new pet hamster, while my mother told me later that she didn’t like mice and rodents. You never would have known! She was also artistic and encouraged that in me. And most of all, she laughed, including at herself (she was the subject of many of her humorous stories).

I was thinking about her on the way home from church today. She wasn’t a wealthy woman in the material sense, but she gave us the most important thing. Her love. And it was more than enough.

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