Grandmas

A few weeks ago, I had a very vivid dream of my Grandma Andrus. You know they type of dream...the type that feels like real life. And since then I've been thinking about my grandmas. They were both the kind of women I would want to be. And these are the reasons why.

I'll start with Grandma Fish.

She was probably the most generous person I know. I not only respect that she was always willing to give of her own need, I love that about her. Once I was saying something about not having any money. I was in college and my brother had just come home from his mission. She offered to send me the money that she had been sending to him. I immediately said no because I knew she probably needed that money more than me. But oh that was just her generous heart.

I have such good memories of her as a child. I would go to clean her house for her, and I remember how she patiently taught me how to vacuum and dust. She did it gently, but she made sure that if I was going to take the time to do something, I would spend the time doing it right.
Then after I was done cleaning, she would give me two dollars and make me lunch, even though I would tell her that it was okay and I didn't need it. You could never selflessly serve her because she always found a way to give back to you.

And I loved the way she would give me a glass of soda and then put an aluminum foil cover over the rest of the can and place it back in the fridge. It was common to find cans of soda in her fridge with her makeshift aluminum covers.

She was always so patient. I would ask question after question, and she never got frustrated with me. I found her presence so comforting.

She was faithful like no one I have ever known. She really caught the spirit of temple work and genealogy, and she dedicated so much of her life to finding her ancestors. I'm very proud of that.

Then there was my Grandma Andrus.

Grandma A was my kindred spirit. We loved so many of the same things...like books and writing and teaching. And then she didn't love the cooking and the crafting so much, a lot like I don't love those things. Sometimes when I was young, I would wonder where I came from, but then I would think of my Grandma A, and then I would feel like I belonged. I still think of her when I'm feeling like a misfit.

She understood me, and when I needed a boost, she could give it to me. I remember the first time I really got my heart broken, and I sat down on my front porch with her, and she helped me to feel so much better about myself. I always left her presence feeling beautiful.

She was her own person. She told me how much she loved my Grandpa A, but then she still loved having her own time. They were retired and she appreciated that he had his hobbies, and she had hers. So when he went off to ride horses and heard cattle, she was content. And she refused to drive. When I was young, I didn't understand that. I thought she should be able to drive herself around, but she didn't want to do it, and so she walked a lot...to the store or to the laundry mat. I love that she didn't bow to pressure.

She loved education. She was taking classes at BYU long past her retirement, just to learn something new.

I remember going to her house and drawing pictures for her, and she would rave over all of them, even though I'd probably given her twenty already. Then she always had cookies. I loved it when she would freeze her homemade chocolate chip cookies, and we would eat them frozen. She wasn't the best cook, but she made a mean chocolate chip cookie.

She had the sweetest relationship with my Grandpa A. One of my favorite memories is of her telling me how she would look at him and he would look at her, and she could tell that they were both thinking the same thing...that the other one was pretty special. Even now that she is gone, you can tell that my Grandpa misses her every day. I only hope I get so lucky.

I miss my grandmas. All the time. And I'm grateful for the things they taught me, mostly by example. They are the type of women I aspire to be...one day.