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The Best Is Yet To Be



My two grandmothers are 87 and 97 years old this year, which is pretty amazing if you think about it.  They've lived through the Great Depression, World War II, the Korean War, President Kennedy's assassination, the race to space, the rise and fall of communism, the advancement of the information era, the attacks of 9/11, Covid, and dozen other "once in a lifetime" events.  They remember when indoor plumbing was a luxury and yet know what social media is. They're amazing.

I can't wrap my mind around the magnitude of what they have witnessed. They lived in real time what we can only read about in history books.  It's incredible if you let it sink in. Maybe that's why they're different...not just them, but their entire generation.



They're not like us.  

They don't give up when things are tough.

They don't complain about hardships or the unfairness of life.

They don't fold under pressure or cower when they face uncertainty. 

They speak of circumstances, both good and bad, as being temporary.  

They say things like, "the best is yet to be" and "this too shall pass."

They tell us to slow down.  To stop and enjoy this moment, this time, and this blessing whatever it may be.



My childhood is filled with precious memories thanks to both of them. It's pantries full of  Nilla Wafers at Granny's house and Orange Hostess Cupcakes at Mimi's house.  It's the smell of a roast on the oven and our favorite desserts cooling on the counters.  

It's funny what you tuck inside your heart, what memories you keep.  I will never forget the glass, candy jar that sat on Mimi's counter full of cinnamon mints, or the King Edward cigar boxes full of crayons at Granny's.  Their homes are frozen in time in my mind, full of their personal collections, photographs, and distinct scents. Never mind that they have both moved to new places.  Keene Road will always be where they both live, forever, in my heart and mind.



Granny's home was always full of people.  Always.  In fact, I can't recall a single visit that didn't include a cousin or family members.  There was always homecooked food nearby, and I can still hear the squeaky bed in the back bedroom where we watched Cartoon Network and flipped through the JC Penny Catalog.  The basement terrified me, but I would never admit that to any of the cousins.  Her doll collection always mesmerized me, even if I wasn't allowed to touch them. And the front hallway is where I decided to stick a key in the light socket, just because my cousin told me to. That didn't end so well.



Mimi's house was a bit quieter in my early memories until the younger cousins started to arrive, but we still managed to find plenty of ways to entertain ourselves.  We spent countless hours playing in the old Winnebago and dressing up in the aprons and costume jewelry she let us use.  We played in the barn and on the propane tank until they made way for a new neighborhood development.  And in the fall, we would walk down the steep hill to get a pumpkin from Mr. Joe Kind.  At least, that's what I think his name was. There were coloring books in the family room drawer and a picture cube from my toddler years that sat on her bookshelf. 

It didn't matter where we were or whose house we were visiting, our childhood was filled with so much love.  

The other day, I was sitting on the front porch drinking my coffee and letting my mind wonder to work, and bills, and chores. Nothing major.  Just the endless list of responsibilities that accompany adulthood.  As I rocked, I suddenly became aware that my chair was going obnoxiously fast. The more I thought, the harder I rocked.  It was a stark contrast to slow and steady glide I had seen from my grandmothers growing up. Their movements were slow, deliberate, steady, and confident. Almost like they believed their own words, "this too shall pass" and "the best it yet to be."

In that moment I realized that while the pressures and problems of our generations are vastly different, our reactions to those adversities don't have to be. I can walk into the future with the same posture of peace and faith that they have modeled for me.




I have a choice.  

I can choose to face tomorrow and all of its unknowns with the same strength and resolve as the women before me.  

I can choose to say things like "this too shall pass," and "the best is yet to be." 

I can choose to face uncertain times with a deeply certain faith and hope in the One who has numbered our days.  

I can choose to let my legacy be one of strength, faith and love just like the women before me.  

I can choose to see their lives as a living, breathing testimony to the goodness of God. 

What an honor it is to walk behind them and raise the next generation of faithful, God-honoring, warriors. 




Thank you both for running your race so faithfully.  Your legacy will impact many generations to come and I have no doubt that the best is yet to be.

Comments

  1. What wonderful memories of two Godly women. What insight and wisdom you have gained from both of them. I love the way your words touch the heart of your childhood. How they linger in your mind. These women live on in you. What a beautiful soul you are Morgan. What a blessing you are to many. ❤️

    ReplyDelete
  2. Love portrayed, and relayed, very beautifully. I’m so happy you have had such strong women for learning and guidance, and now look at you… the tradition lives on! I love you dearly!

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