Yesterday would have been my grandma’s 100th birthday.   If you could have asked her, she never would have suggested that she was particularly extraordinary, which is a shame.  About a gazillion people showed up at her funeral, demonstrating otherwise.   They were there because of the way she loved them.  My grandma was always loving, serving, taking interest in, and taking time for a conversation with people.

Family.  

Friends.

Neighbors.  

Store clerks. 

Restaurant staff.

The masked intruder who broke into her house.  (True story!)

You could count on her to offer you a bite of something tasty, a funny tidbit to make you smile, and a listening ear.  As a child, I loved that Grandma was always up for a game of Hūsker Dū.    

Sometimes I see her in the mischievous sparkle in my daughter’s blue eyes.  

Sometimes I give my loved ones a kiss on the back of the neck, just like she used to do.

Sometimes I have the distinct impression that she is nearby and helping me, even though I cannot see her anymore with my physical eyes. 

* * * * *

I grew up in Colorado, but the highlight of every year was visiting my grandparents in Utah at Christmas.  I have the fondest memories of my grandma serving up breakfast to us when we would visit.  I can still close my eyes and place myself back in her kitchen, on the side of the table against the wall where I usually sat.  I remember squeezing the extra juice out of a fresh grapefruit half after spooning out all the flesh; smelling the tantalizing aroma of bacon; seeing the square electric skillet on the counter she used to cook up slices of crispy French toast.  Everything felt and tasted better at Grandma’s house. 

* * * * *

One spring, about five years before my grandma passed away, our washing machine bit the dust.  I had three young children at the time and lots of laundry to do.  My husband was working long hours and it was going to take us some time to either repair or replace our washing machine.  So I asked my grandparents if I could bring the girls up to their home for the afternoon and spend the night there while borrowing their washer and dryer to do our laundry.  Graciously, they welcomed us. 

The following morning, laundry done, I was busy feeding the baby.  My grandma was sitting at the kitchen table, having her own breakfast, and probably scanning the newspaper or something like that.  Soon she noticed that the other two little girls were hovering quietly by her side, watching her eat her fresh grapefruit.  Grandma inquired if the girls would also like some grapefruit.  They nodded.  So Grandma proceeded to spoon up bites of grapefruit and offered them to the girls, who gratefully waited and gulped down each bite she offered like eager baby birds.

 I don’t recall anymore if the girls were waiting on me still to get them breakfast or if they had already eaten and just really were envious of Grandma’s grapefruit, but either way, they were loving every bite.  The whole scene thoroughly and completely delighted Grandma!  She hated it when, on occasion, the great-grandchildren would seem shy of her due to her old age.  She was so thrilled to be able to connect with them over something so simple and sweet, and from then on, grapefruit became a special little connection point between us. 

* * * * *

The last time I visited my grandma, she was in a care facility.  She had become very ill while traveling, and after receiving sufficient medical attention was flown back home.  She recovered to the point that she didn’t need to be hospitalized, but she wasn’t well enough to return home independently, hence the care facility.  She didn’t love it there, and neither the facility staff nor her children, who rotated shifts there with her,  were having much success getting Grandma to eat. 

When we arrived to visit Grandma, her lunch sat untouched on a tray.  But we had come bearing some fresh grapefruit, and whether it was to please us or because it pleased her or both, Grandma ate grapefruit while we sat by her bedside that day.

 Five days later, her spirit passed out of this world and into the next. 

* * * * *

My grandma devoted her life to the Lord, nurturing and nourishing the people around her spiritually, emotionally, and physically.  I spent this weekend listening to speakers and music delivering Christ-centered messages through my church’s General Conference.  I was struck multiple times as I heard the first and second great commandments reiterated–to “love the Lord thy God with all thy heart, and with all thy soul, and with all thy mind,” and to “love thy neighbour as thyself” (Matt 22:37-39).  That is what made my grandma an extraordinary woman–the degree to which she lived and embodied those two great commandments. 

So yesterday, in my grandma’s honor, I spent the day listening to learn how I can better love and serve the Lord, and serving the people I love.   That included a special breakfast.  I substituted decadent homemade cinnamon rolls for the French toast of my childhood, because my kids specifically requested them for General Conference weekend.  But I paired it with some crispy bacon, a rare treat around here; and even though it is not prime citrus season right now, I absolutely did not forget the fresh grapefruit.