Big Bundle of Memories

My Grandma Metzler was the most special and important woman in the world. And when she went to heaven a few years ago, part of me went with her really. She was a nurse and a missionary and loved the Lord with all her heart. Every conversation reflected that. Every song was for Him. Every piano note played was a tribute to Him. And as a profession in the states, she was a charge nurse for a state children’s hospital. She was amazing. She and my grandpa took my sister and I to high school and college plays and musicals, the Nutcracker Suite ballet, orchestras, camping, national parks, monuments, literary historic homes. She was rich with art appreciation and the love of literary classics as well as Christian works as well as all things Christian. And she was my biggest supporter, writing me letters all the time, coming to every recital or school play or church musical I was in. She was all nurse so wanted me to be all doctor. I became one because of her. She was right as always, but she was humble and gentle as she was super strong. And all these things and more raced through my eyes and escaped through my tear ducts as I perused the treasure my dear Aunt Rosie had sent me for Christmas just now. She sent her poems. I have my precious grandma’s poems. Oh, what a treasure! So, it may appear as though I had only received a few insignificant presents, but with this offering, I am way richer than anyone else. Thank you, God. And thank you for so many years with this incredible woman of yours.❤

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To Grandma On Mother’s Day

I have been thinking of my Grandmothers lately. And what better day to celebrate these amazing and completely different people who would never have been in the same sentence except for the fact that their kids fell in love and I tied them together. Both are enjoying themselves in heaven right now so they are together for another reason now. Grandma Metzler, my mom’s mom, was a missionary nurse, originally from Texas who loved God first before anything and never stopped (when she could) working and keeping up with people and praying and came to my events at school and church and told stories and sang and loved life. Grandma Batterson, my dad’s mom, was a housewife, sometimes a donut shop manager in long time past, a farmer’s wife who was cleaner and quieter than the stillest June day, cooked like a champion, loved visits but said little during them, made the best coffee I ever had and always had it perkillating and never missed church or choir (although I don’t know anyone who knew what she sang like she was so quiet about it). One house was loud, one was still. One grandma taught me faith, one grandma taught me function. Both taught me love. One thrived, one survived their upbringings, as diverse as night and day but both perfect in their lessons and truthful in their applications. Strong, strong women are my heritage. Beautiful they were too and they taught me poise and impression and manners and play. One home I played inside because it was city, one home I played outside because it was country. Both I played. And I love love love my Grandmas. I learned so much from them both and would not be who I am without their prayers and influence in my life and so much time with them. So, to my Grandmas, and my Mom and Aunt Rosie (I need you) and Aunt Joyce and Aunt Barb, I thank you for your love and influence and care of me in particular and so many others you touch. And to every other mother or mother figure out there, I applaud you for making a difference and appreciate your efforts as so many do who may not understand your need to hear it. It matters a lot. It matters a lot. It matters a lot.