Granny was born in the little town of Boston, Indiana, on November 12, 1922. She was the youngest of six children of Frank Jesse Williams and his wife, Mary Alice. She met and married the love of her life, Ralph Lane, in 1946, and together they raised three children, Debbie, Daryl, and Jerry. If, as they say, the love we RECEIVE is any indication of the love we have GIVEN, then to simply say Granny was a loving person would be a gross understatement. She was adored by her children, grandchildren, great grandchildren, siblings, and friends.
Granny was always willing to give of herself in whatever way she was needed. A talented seamstress and quilter, she spent several years lending her time to 4-H clubs coaching young ladies in the craft of sewing. She used her craft in many ways over the years. Nearly every Christmas found us unwrapping special hand-made gifts: stuffed animals, quilted table runners, and doll clothes to name a few. She taught me how to sew. We spent many beautiful days together sharing, laughing, and talking as she introduced me to various stitches, materials, and methods. It was during those precious moments that I learned the most about this amazing lady.
Granny experienced what was likely the most difficult day in her life in April of 1974, when her husband of 28 years unexpectedly passed away. She mourned his passing, but found that by making a conscious effort she could transform her grief into active love by doting on her grandchildren. And believe you me, there was a lot of doting! She cheered from the bleachers of every baseball, softball, volleyball and basketball game, sat smiling through every Christmas program, took pictures of every prom, graduation, and wedding, and made herself available to them any time they made their needs or wishes known. Whatever her grandchildren did, Granny was there, cheering them on and loving them. Still, she was never satisfied with the amount of time she devoted to them. She confided in me once that she always felt like she could have done more.
Soon after Grandpa died, Granny got a job as a sewing machine operator at Kabert Industries, a business near her home. Her responsibiilties there were a great fit for her talents as a seamstress, but the time she spent working took her away from those she loved most, and she regretted that. What she did not factor in to this self-proclaimed weakness, however, was her gift to the ladies with whom she worked. If there was ever a need for a “mother figure,” she was the first one to step up and fill the role. They loved her as their mother. During her funeral visitation hours, we were blessed to hear many “Granny Stories.” We learned that several ladies from work had gone home with her during the great blizzard of 1978. She fed and housed them until they could get home to their own families. None of us remembered her mentioning that little act of kindness, but we were certainly not surprised by the news. She had a knack for making everyone feel special.
Granny certainly made me feel special the first time I met her. I was a junior in high school, just a few months after the passing of my own very special grandmother. Brian had informed me that I would be meeting his grandmother, and I will admit that I was a little nervous at the prospect. My nerves had no place in that high school gymnasium that night. I was immediately struck by the twinkle in her eye as she greeted Brian with her signature “Howdy Sugar!” I watched enamored as he left my side, and there, in that public place with so many of his teen-aged peers surrounding him, he planted a sweet kiss on her forehead and wrapped his arms around her in a tender hug. The love they showed each other in that simple greeting spoke volumes to me. The moment we were introduced, she opened her heart to me, offering me the distinct honor of being adopted into her circle. Not needing to be asked twice, I jumped at the opportunity. She held a special place in my heart from that moment on.
In the fall of 1986, when Brian went away for military basic training, I was truly lost and lonely. Granny always made sure I knew I was invited any time her family planned to be together. When Brian’s graduation from Basic/AIT approached, she and I both jumped at the opportunity to journey to Ft. Benning, Georgia, with Brian’s parents to witness his graduation. We were bed mates in the hotel room that night, and I remember giggling far into the late hours of darkness. It was upon our return home from Georgia, with Brian in tow (I don’t think either of us let him out of our sight during that trip!) that Brian dubbed her “Granny,” a name that stuck from that moment on.
In 1988, Granny lost her left eye in her first battle with cancer. The whole family gathered together in the midst of a nasty ice storm, rallying around her to nurse her back to health. Those days seem like a lifetime ago, but it’s a memory none of us will ever forget. She was so sick, but she came away from that painful period stronger than ever, and we rejoiced in her good health.
On Christmas Eve, 1990, when she was given news of the impending birth of her first great grandchild, Granny was overjoyed! She immediately began sewing maternity clothes, baby clothes, and baby blankets, and she gifted me over and over again with her loving thoughts, funny stories, and praises for the growing child inside my belly. The birth of each great grandchild thereafter was met with the same bubbling excitement. She always claimed that while grandchildren were wonderful, great grandchildren were even BETTER! My three girls will certainly attest to the fact that she was a key component in the joy of the years of their youth. From tea parties to euchre games, sewing lessons to knitting lessons, always-full cookie jars to homemade noodles, visits with Granny were a splendid experience!
One day she came to pick up our oldest daughter for a day of fun. She had the entire day of activities planned. She met Lindsay at the door, stepped backward off of the porch step, lost her balance and fell straight down on her tailbone, bouncing twice on the concrete. I ran to help her up, begging her to sit for a while and give us both time to determine if she was okay. “Oh NO!” she exclaimed, “we have things to DO!” and off she limped to her car, buckling Lindsay inside and driving off. Later that evening she was in so much pain that she conceded to a trip to the emergency room. X-rays concluded that she had a broken pelvis. When I learned this the next day, I tried to scold her for not allowing me to investigate her health further before she spent that entire day in pain, and she interrupted my scolding with that signature grin, “Oh now” she said, “we had a GREAT day!”
Granny was just as enthusiastic over her great-grandchildren’s activities as she was her grandchildren’s. There wasn’t a horse show or dance recital that took place without her. She gave countless good luck kisses and congratulatory hugs, and proudly watched everything they did.
Granny’s love was certainly not limited to her grandchildren and great grandchildren. She attended the annual Grandparents Day at Hagerstown Elementary School and became an adopted grandparent for any child whose grandma couldn’t attend. She spent many joyous days with her sisters, her brother, and her sister-in-law, Helen. She had a close bond with all of them, and she was deeply saddened by the loss of each, one by one, until she was the last surviving member of her family. When her daughter-in-law’s health began to fail from the effects of multiple sclerosis, Granny stepped in as her day nurse. She took great care in seeing that Ellie’s needs were fulfilled while Daryl was away at work. It was a long and difficult battle for Ellie, and the loss of her affected Granny greatly. She told me once that she didn’t really understand why God hadn’t seen fit to take her instead of Ellie. I told her I couldn’t begin to understand God’s wisdom or ultimate plan, but that it would be revealed one day, if ever He saw fit to let us in on His secrets.
Her influence in her family extended to her niece Greta and Greta’s daughters Julie and Lisa. Their times together were a source of joy for Granny, and we were always anxious to hear of the events of the days she spent with them.
In 2003, Granny was diagnosed with breast cancer and had a mastectomy. Quickly following this was a diagnosis of Parkinson’s disease, then came her first of several strokes. She was admitted to a nursing home on two different occasions, undergoing intense physical therapy both times. While she was recuperating, Lindsay and Emma continued to show their horses without Granny, but they always called her at the end of the day to report their news. She enjoyed those phone calls, but not as much as the girls did! They just loved sharing their excitement with her.
During her second “tour” of the nursing home, Brian and I weren’t sure she would ever get home again. An incredible amount of damage had been done, and she was so weak. True to form, she proved us wrong, and she worked until she was able to go home under the care of a home nurse.
We visited Granny as frequently as we could, and we always came away happier just from being with her. Frail as she had become, she was always cheerful and joyful. I’ll never forget our visit in her home on Christmas Eve, 2006. The girls and I arranged to do the cooking for her, so we arrived early to begin meal preparations. She came scuffling to the door with her walker, dressed in a pink sweater and brightly flowered lounge pants. I told her how pretty I thought she looked. She looked at Lindsay and said, “What do you think?” Lindsay replied that she too thought she looked very nice. Granny responded with “Don’t you think I look sexy?!” Lindsay and I, completely caught off guard by her exclamation, doubled over in laughter! When we were finally able to wipe our tears, we looked up to see tears of laughter streaming down her face as well, and our giggling began anew.
In early May 2007, Brian visited Granny, completing a few odd jobs around her house. As they were talking she pointed to her flower bed and said she wished she could work in her flowers. That’s when Brian noticed a strong little maple seedling growing up in the middle of her flower bed. He asked if he could dig it up. “Sure, take it,” she said. As he bid her farewell and climbed into his truck to leave, he said “Thanks for the tree, Granny!” She threw her head back in a groan, “No, no!” She said, “You don’t ever thank someone for giving you a tree! It’s SURE to die now!” Brian just shook his head and laughed, apologized for thanking her, then headed home to plant his new tree. A few weeks later we hosted a picnic gathering at our home on Memorial Day. When Ronnie and Debbie arrived, we were shocked to see Granny with them. Brian helped her out of the car and escorted her to a soft rocking chair on the back patio. After she settled, he pointed to his tree, “Look there, Granny,” he said. “It’s the tree you gave me from your flower bed.” She giggled, “It’s still alive? It won’t be for long!” and she commenced to tell everyone the story about her silly grandson not knowing that he shouldn’t thank someone for a tree.
We enjoyed our day with her; it’s a time we will treasure forever, because it was the last time we were able to visit with that angel lady. Two days later we received a phone call that Granny had another stroke, had slipped out of consciousness and was being transported to the hospital by ambulance. The news was not good. We rushed to the hospital and spent a few moments tearfully saying our goodbyes before she slipped away.
As happens with every tragedy in life, the next few days were a blur. People came and went, her belongings were sorted, her sweet little house sold, and we were left in a fog of sadness and memories. All that summer, Brian watched his tree closely. It began to wilt, and soon looked as if it would die. He watered and pruned, wanting desperately to save that tree, then finally left it alone after coming to the conclusion that it was only right for his tree to die, because Granny told him it would.
I often wonder if Jesus talked to Granny about Brian’s attempts to save his tree that summer. If so, I’m certain she asked for a special miracle to be bestowed just so that her grandson could be built up, because against all odds, that tree now thrives in its place in our yard, three years after Granny tried to convince him it would die. I’m not surprised. Granny was never foolish enough to sacrifice someone else’s happiness for the sake of being “right.” As Proverbs 14:1 says, “Every wise woman buildeth her house: but the foolish plucketh it down with her hands.” Granny was wise. She lived her life in the continual building of her house…a house that stood on a strong foundation of love.
Posts
