My precious grandmother
My heart recalls fondly the times shared with relatives far and wide down at the old homeplace during family reunions. There was always plenty of food, love, and laughter, and that old house was the definition of a “family home.” The floorplan was ideal for many branches of this family tree to cluster together and cradle each other in a warmth that today’s generation can only hear about in memories retold. The wrap-around porch was unquestionably made for enjoying the outdoors and admiring God’s handiwork surrounding the home.
Come, rock with me on that old porch swing, and your gaze would begin with, and eventually come right back to, this great Magnolia tree that was just in front of the home. God had planted it there many years before I came to discover it. I dare say that you would be as awestruck by the majesty of that Magnolia as I always was, resplendent with large flowers set against a backdrop of thick, dark green leaves. That tree provided joy to every youngster who came near it - being a great place for climbing or playing hide-and-go-seek. It had given solace to the boys and girls growing up in the home while they nursed wounds of broken hearts or came to terms with painful news. In my day it was much more of a refuge from the July sun, as family spent too little time reconnecting. Come to think of it, that tree never asked us for anything; it only gave of its beauty, sweet aroma, and protection from the elements.
I remember those annual visits to the homeplace, which, in retrospect, seems like hallowed ground. I loved to watch the connections being made or renewed, and each time I would catch a glimpse of my grandmother, I would find her smiling or laughing heartily with someone near and dear. As I ran around playing with my cousins, or exploring the host of treasures that only a kid has the time to find, she strolled with others through a forest of precious memories and explored a treasure-filled past that only someone with the wisdom to write them on her heart had the pleasure to recall. Each summer I spent time with my grandmother on the days my parents had to work, and I remember watching her effortlessly go about her housework while humming a gentle tune. She made the best sweet tea in the world, and we would drink a glass while sitting in that humble home watching a small black and white TV. Her heart held only gratitude for the roof over her home and total contentment with those 3 channels. She never wanted more than what little she had, but was always at the ready to give to those in need as if she were the richest woman in the world. Her laughter was contagious, and her watchful eye a protection against any harm.
You know, a Magnolia is a truly amazing creation. The flowers are simply beautiful, but if you’re lucky enough to get close to them, you’ll see that they’re quite thick. There is a very unique portion of the flower that is sensitive enough to inspire life, but is thick enough to survive damage from the beetles that come each spring. The strength behind the beauty is not readily visible.
People who only encountered my grandmother briefly or didn’t have the opportunity to get very close to her could easily see her wonderful, selfless spirit, her nature to never complain, and a wickedly sharp sense of humor that would inspire laughter even when tears could be felt welling up. But those close to her know of a life sprinkled with tragedy and unfulfilled dreams. Feeling a call to minister to others through nursing, she began working at a rest home, but chose her children over her career without question or regret. When the time was right, she returned to her calling despite being 71 years old. When she was 34 she gave birth to her third baby boy, only to learn that he was visually challenged and would have to be schooled hundreds of miles away from her. Three days after her 51st birthday, she was widowed due to a tragic motor vehicle accident. Last year she was grieved by the passing of her eldest son, knowing that children aren’t supposed to die before their parents. Yet through all of these things, her countenance was more glorious than the lilies of the field. Though strong enough to endure much pain, the sparkle in those beautiful blue eyes only radiated God’s glory.
As beautiful as that Magnolia tree was, it taught me a hard lesson. Those glossy leaves, well they become very slick when they fall, and especially when they’re wet! If I was racing around the homeplace so fast that I was missing the beauty of the people or creation around me, my foot would land on a leaf and my rear end would land on the ground. I was left to stare straight up into the majesty of that great Magnolia and reminded to honor the path that I had been blessed to trod.
During those summers at Maw Maw’s house, if I wanted to go outside she would often stop working and come with me. We would rock back and forth on that metal seat, counting red cars and blue trucks and brown vans to see which was the most popular color that day. There was no rush to life - it was meant to be enjoyed. She understood that time with a child was infinitely more important than some dirty dish waiting in the sink.
When I began to think of that great Magnolia recently, I read up on some information about the plant itself. Despite being considered by some as the epitome of Southern beauty, they exist in many places around the world. Scientists have found that when other flowering plants are strengthened by contact with the Magnolia, they will bring forth their flowers sooner as well as much, much more impressively. In Japan, they have long used part of the Magnolia to ease anxiety and keep tumors in their dormant and benign state. Dental researches have even discovered that something in the Magnolia bark inhibits cavities and prevents plaque, which helps their patients keep a beautiful smile much longer.
Many years have passed since that Magnolia first caught my attention, but the sight of one - even if miles away from the old homeplace - still makes me pause and admire its beauty. Now I, too, find myself many miles away from that homeplace, but my mind hearkens back to the lessons of my grandmother and that Magnolia. Each time I remember the dear blessing God gave me in the form of my a grandmother, I find my anxiety ebbing away. And those tumors of life that could stress my body and take their toll, well, they’re kept in check by her patience, sense of humor, and understanding of real priorities. I believe my flower blooms more beautifully because of her touch. And there is no question that every thought of her brings a smile to my face and to my heart. You see, I may not always be able to see my Magnolia, but the root it has wrapped around my heart will live forever. And for that, I thank God every day. As you journey through life, if you should glimpse a majestic Magnolia with her strong arms outstretched to provide comfort and shelter, I would encourage you to pause and reflect upon her beauty, inner strength, and great history. And I hope that when you do, it reminds you of that sweet Magnolia that will always be my “Maw Maw.”