I forgot to show you our little robins the other day: We took pictures of each one as it hatched, and now they have grown exponentially!
Today is the 100th birthday of my Grandma Hess, who was my one and only babysitter during my childhood years. She lived next door to us and was my best buddy. I remember going with her to church meetings and pretending that I knew the words while she helped me hold the hymn book. She drove a little gray Opal, and always wore blue canvas sneakers, a dress, and an apron. She did her hair up in those scratchy wire curlers so popular back in the early 70s, and I would watch the magical transformation as she removed them from her hair.
After Grandpa died, Grandma was never the same. She always seemed a little lonely, and we were all too young and busy to fill the void very well. My Aunt Eleanor gifted her with a trip to Europe, which was exciting for a while, and she later served a mission for our church, serving others with a grandmother's love.
I was out on our porch, snapping beans, when a neighbor came running to our house, asking for my mother. The neighbor was the bearer of bad news that day; he came to tell us that he found my grandma's body in her home, after feeling as if he should pay a visit. She had just brought us some scraps to feed the chickens, and it seemed impossible that she could be gone so fast.
I was all of eleven years old at the time, but it seems like yesterday. Although Grandma's body may be at rest, I know that her spirit is always close by, and that she is loving her great-grandchildren as if they were her own.
Happy birthday, Grandma! Thank you for giving me your love of all things feminine, and your spirit of selfless service.