By For Christmas when I was a little girl, the family went in together and bought Granny a big, comfortable, recliner. As the baby of her grandchildren, I was the only one who was tiny enough to fit in her fancy chair with her. I asked if I could sit with her. In case you all have not figured out yet, I was spoiled with love and not stuff. With a smile, she said, “Yeah, sugar foot. Come ‘ere.” Dad lifted me onto her lap. She and I sat in her chair a lot even after she started to get sick. Sometimes, we would sing along with her radio. Sometimes, we would talk. Other times, she would read the Bible, I would ask questions about what she read and pray with her after she answered every curiosity.
When I realized I was different, after our initial conversation in the kitchen while she cooked, and after the supper dishes were done; she asked Dad to help me sit in her chair with her. Talking about whatever with Mama and Dad, she hugged me to her. I only realize, now, what she was me giving the gift of: Processing time. I could talk or not. It was my choice, but she was telling me whatever I chose was okay. Granny was also telling me I was going be fine because I was loved.
Yeah, Granny, was remarkably special and she knew what I could not even begin to understand at four. I used to think there is no way she could know what my future was going to look like. Now, I know better than to underestimate she and Kirk. Their love, for me, is so, so, strong. I passionately believe she had to know what my future was going to become. I get my Extra Sensory Perception (ESP), honest, from both she and Kirk (both sides of my family). Thriving would not be possible, for me, without either other of them and their love.
