Being Grandma

Every so often, it seems I encounter periods when everything I try to do goes wrong. I set out to do some simple task and run up against an obstacle that prevents me from completing it. Necessary tools go missing, things break, emergencies occur that draw immediate attention from the previous plan. And it all seems to happen over and over until I'm weary of the pattern. Nothing can be easy. Even the most basic of goals are a struggle, and frequently, I'm left feeling totally incompetent. At times like these, I realize that my greatest wish is to be like Grandma.

My Grandma was one of my earliest and best examples of a strong, capable woman. She raised two daughters, much of that time as a single parent. She ran a small business. She made a home for my family when my parents were having financial troubles. Later, she masterminded the construction of an extra bedroom for my older sister and me and helped to build it as well. Grandma was tough, resourceful, creative, thrifty and self-sufficient, and Grandma always knew what to do when things went wrong.

Tough times were no worry. She had seen tough times before and knew just how folks got by when money was scarce or modern conveniences were inaccessible. Despite the many lean periods in my childhood, things were never totally bleak with Grandma around. We got through and had many treasured memories and special moments with less than others might consider necessary.

Grandma was there to teach us how to fix what was broken. If we ran into a problem or complication on a project, we could always ask her advice. If she hadn't done it before, she'd be able to help puzzle out a way to make it work. Wisdom and inspiration flowed readily whenever we had a need.

That inventive spirit haunted our house each Halloween with clever decorations and devices made of household scraps. Crazy events like Half-Christmas and the surprise avalanche of homemade "tribbles" were not unusual in our house. Her hands were well accustomed to making little miracles like my sister's crocheted teddy bear and dinner for eight from a nearly empty pantry.

From her, we learned old songs and stories, games she had played, and how she had built a radio from an oatmeal box as a child. With her, we stayed up all night watching a lunar eclipse, or watched for herons flying over the lake in the misty morning. And every one of my sisters remembers the lipstick print she left on the dog's head every morning when she went to work.

Though I have equally glowing things to say about my mother's example (perhaps for another post.) Grandma was the model I aspired to. Grandma is still who I want to be.

My husband has suggested, gently, that these periods of trouble serve to show me I'm not perfect. This is one thing that definitely needs no reminders. I am clearly not perfect, and I know I never will be. I have no illusions about that possibility for myself or anyone else. Humans just aren't perfect.

Yet, I still aim at the goal of competence and self-reliance, knowing that falling short, I will still be doing good for those around me. When I can solve problems myself, I don't burden those I love and can move toward helping them instead.

When I run into complications I can't overcome, I'm forced to watch the balance shift the other way. I am no longer capable and self-sufficient like Grandma, but needy and vulnerable. I've gone from being a positive to a negative, and the frustration is overwhelming. I'm uncomfortable asking for help, not because it is an admission of imperfection, but because I have become a burden.

Maybe I find myself in this position because it forces me to face that uncomfortable state. I know, intellectually, that none of us can exist entirely on that positive side, always helping others and never needing help ourselves. Emotionally, I fear I have not taken it to heart. Maybe, in replaying that vulnerability, I am reminding myself to find the positive side of my negative - that needing help occasionally is not only human, but offers others the opportunity to help me, to feel needed and useful and positive in their own lives. This is probably exactly what my husband was trying to point out.

It's not that I need reminding I'm imperfect. I'm being told, rather, that it's OK to be imperfect, to lean on others once in a while. It's likely a lesson I'll need repeated, so I can expect to experience these frustrating obstacles again. Next time, though, I hope I can recognize the message early and respond with a little more grace.

You see, Grandma made such an impression on me and my sisters that it's not easy to live up to the example. Her strength and wisdom looked all the more superhuman because she died before she got terribly old. The oldest of us was just 18 when we lost her, and my other grandmother outlived her by about 20 years. I think sometimes that Grandma's early death may have created a lens of reverence to magnify all the good memories.

I have no doubt she was amazingly capable, creative and brave, but I have to also remember the times when she couldn't fix everything. They were there, times when she needed help, times when she failed at what she tried. Only, she didn't let her disappointment break her. Grandma was OK being human. She faced trouble with a light spirit. She knew when to ask for help, when to try again, and when to accept her limitations with a smile.

So, in times like these, when everything I try seems to fall apart, I realize my greatest wish is to be like Grandma...

all of Grandma, amazing and humble alike.