Like Gramma Too? 

Hello Again Friends,

I called both my grammas “Gramma,” and added their last name only when it would be confusing not to. But I only had one Papa because my dad’s dad died the year before I was born. Gramma Cummins, Papa’s wife, was one classy lady but she was also F-U-N. One crazy thing she did, and again this is in sharp contrast to her highly dignified charm, was get the notion to bite the dickens out of you. Yes, bite.

She’d say, “Look at you, looking so cute, I could just take a bite right outta you!”  And she’d proceed to just clamp down on the lobe of your ear.

It never truly hurt, but as a child I’d laugh and eventually as her jaws tightened cry out, “Oww!”

Gramma’s response was always the same.  She’d cackle her big, maybe even unladylike, laugh and then say, “Well, see, I just couldn’t help it.”

Good gracious writing about her makes me miss her terribly.

But maybe I’m a little like her too. I don’t bite. At least not yet. But I do remember a time she told me, “You know, Kristie, I truly enjoy my own company.”  Her words have stayed vivid because they are so different, not “I like to be by myself” or “sometimes I need some alone time.”  No, it was stated as a positive “I enjoy my own company.”

I’ve just spent two nights and three days largely by myself. And you know what?  I enjoyed my own company just like Gramma. It’s not something I’ve done any of for a long time. And it’s not a real longing or anything like that. But I’m nevertheless glad to know that I’m like Virginia Cummins in at least one respect: I enjoy my own company.

And maybe part of it is that I know I am NEVER truly alone.  In Matthew 28:20 Jesus says, “Behold, I am with you always, to the end of the age.”

I hope you find comfort in this gift too. That you’ve not rejected the saving grace of Jesus Christ because you actually can do that. But wouldn’t that be tragic?  Horrifyingly stubborn, stiff-necked and proud?  I pray no one that ever reads this would make that mistake.

On a much lighter note though do you think Gramma Cummins can bite my ear in heaven?  I do.

With Love,

Kristie

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