Beauty in the Ashes

Sunday, March 11, 2012      My day began a little like this: I rolled out of bed angry at the hour of sleep I lost even though I never fall asleep when I should anyway.  I stared at the clothes in my closet like it was my first time getting dressed. Do you ever have days where getting dressed feels like a complete enigma?  I just kept staring while my brain put forth a valiant effort to come to the party.  I finally put together an outfit and slipped on my brand new shoes—THE shoes I found on yesterday’s shopping extravaganza that actually fit my feet (this never happens).  I grabbed my Coke Zero from the fridge and made my little car fly to the north side.       At church, I went through the usual routine of getting all the kids checked in and trying to remember multiple things at once (thank God for pens and spare church bulletins).  At some point, I decided it would be a good idea to carry four boxes in front of my face wh...

     Writing about my Grammy feels a lot like describing myself.  This woman, like my other featured family members, has given me treasured experiences and taught me many valuable lessons.  More than anything, however, she has taught me a lot about what it means to be me .        My earliest memories of Gram involve nursery rhymes. When I spent the night, she would recite nursery rhymes at bedtime, and I loved trying to remember all the words.  In one of my literacy courses in college, my professor expounded upon the importance of teaching children these rhymes, and I was grateful Grammy took the time with me.  Taking time...that is pure Grammy.  My mind fails to call up a picture of a more patient person.  Have you ever taught an eight-year-old to knit?  And crochet?  And cross-stich?And embroider pillowcases with piggies?  And line dance?  She has.        Sleepovers were ...