Grandma's Quasquicentennial

It is my favorite grandmother's quasquicentennial, which means she was born one-hundred twenty-five years ago today. She made it to ninety-six, so I actually had plenty of years to get to know her. Grandma was pretty amazing. Her grandmothers were Wilhelmina (Lutheran) and Margaret (Catholic). She was baptized Minnie Margaret in the Lutheran church. Her Irish Catholic grandmother offered to babysit one day and took Minnie to the Catholic church and (in order to save her soul) had her properly baptized, as Margaret Minnie.

At twelve, she contracted scarlet fever, which kept her out of school for several weeks. As a result, she was to be held back. There was a neighbor boy who was a year younger and had skipped a grade. If Minnie were held back, the younger boy would be a grade ahead of her. Minnie would have none of that and told her father as much. His response was that if she left school she would need to get a job and help support the family. And that is how Minnie dropped out of the sixth grade.

Twenty-year-old Minnie
with one of her charges.

She got a job helping a neighbor get ready for company. Minnie cleaned every inch of that house and eighty years later was still mortified about the wastefulness of washing the floors with milk just to make them shine. The neighbor's mother lived with them and was generally ignored by her family. She sat in the kitchen while Minnie worked and told stories to which Minnie (unlike the old lady's family) listened attentively. Once the company left and Minnie's services were no longer needed, the old lady gave Minnie her prize possession, a handkerchief of real China silk. Minnie hung on to that hankie for decades, before passing it on to the granddaughter who listened attentively to all her stories.

Minnie went on to work for several wealthy families as a nursemaid ~ once the kids were old enough for a governess, she needed a new family. She worked for at least two families in Minneapolis. When rich people travel, they don't want to take care of their children, so Minnie went with. She went to the White Mountains in the summer, Florida in the winter. She even got to see the pink sands of Bermuda. While living in Minneapolis, she met Winnie, who introduced Minnie to her kid brother. World War I got in the way, then for reasons I guess I'll never know, it took two-and-a-half years after returning from Europe for Winnie's brother August to finally marry Minnie. They were to be married on Friday until Minnie realized that was 13th and no way was Minnie going to get married on Friday the 13th. They got married on Sunday instead. They met before the war and she had to wait until 1922 for a ring. She must have really loved August.

Minnie with little Bud, on the
porch of a house with no
plumbing.

August had a friend with a vulcanizing business in Browns Valley (way out on the end of railroad line) who offered August a job. So they went west. They had a couple of kids, Mack and Ruth, their names needed to be short because Grandma didn't want nicknames. Then she called Mack "Bud."

They didn't travel. They didn't have luxuries. Grandma's dresses were homemade. She wore the same pair of glasses for at least the last twenty years of her life. Neighbors moved in down the block, Emma was a sixteen year old bride who hadn't a clue how to run a house or care for a baby. Minnie took Emma under her wing and taught her to be a housewife (their daughters became best friends). The depression hit. Money, never in great supply, was hard to find. Minnie took a job as the telephone operator and ended up getting the first Social Security number in Browns Valley.


Over the years, Minnie helped many woman with the babies, she was always ready to give advice or a helping hand. Bud left to fight World War II and ended up on the East Coast, wed to a local girl. Ruth moved to Minneapolis, then San Francisco, married a serviceman and lived all up and down the East Coast. In the fifties, Minnie & August were finally able to add a bathroom to their house. That's right, the woman who lived in mansions raising the children of the wealthy, married a pauper and spent thirty years without indoor plumbing.

She must have really loved August.

August & Minnie
~ this is how I think of them, white-haired, smiling, lovable.

They retired and began traveling. I don't think they ever went anywhere that didn't involve family. All the pictures taken outside Minnesota, are either at their children's homes, or nearby. The now grown kids, and their families, visited Browns Valley. When my father retired from the Coast Guard, we moved back to Minnesota, meaning we could visit more. Minnie was a quintessential grandma ~ she made awesome coffee cake, with raisins. My brother hated raisins, I loved them; so just about every visit there were two coffee cakes, one with and one without.

After 55 years of marriage, August died. The only time I ever saw her cry was when she threw herself on him in the casket and sobbed. Gut-wrenching sobs. It was awful, and beautiful. That night, she told my brother she could count on one hand the fights they'd had. She really loved August.

It amazes me to think of all she saw in her lifetime: 19 presidents, 8 popes, the invention of the automobile to the space shuttle, early days of the telephone to cable TV. Before she died, she even had air-conditioning. She travelled extensively. She knew everyone in her small town. She didn't finish sixth grade, but most of her grandchildren graduated college (and all attended). She was the heart and soul of a town, and a family. I am blessed to have known her. Happy Quasquicentennial, Grandma!

Christ the King and the Big One

Today is the feast of Christ the King. It is the celebration of the coming kingdom of Christ (you didn't see that coming, did you?). There are some great truths out there waiting to be discerned. Christ the King makes me think of The Big One.

Anyone raised Christian learned in childhood that Jesus died for our sins. It's pretty matter-of-fact that He had to come to Earth, in the form of man, to be sacrificed so God would forgive our sins and we could go to heaven. Well, not really, but when you know that almost your whole life, it seems matter-of-fact. It's actually astonishing. Think about it. You're God, you can do anything, and you're born as human. Voluntarily. The diaper stage alone is a lot to go through, when you know what's going on. The Passion, that's nothing, that's a couple of days ~ truly hellacious days, but days. Imagine going through puberty, just to be nice to us. Acne, growth spurts, hormones (Christian theology tells us He is wholly human as well as wholly divine, so He had to deal with it all) for our sins. That's a couple of years. I can think of nothing that would make me willing to go through puberty again. Menopause dancing in front of me, taunting me, is still more appealing than puberty.

But that is still not The Big Truth. I cannot imagine that the nuns didn't teach this, but I can imagine that didn't pay enough attention. I do tend to be rather easily distracted. (Oh, look at what Peanut's doing. What was I saying? Oh, yeah, sorry.) It is amazing that Jesus would go through thirty-three years as one of us, for us. It seems odd, a bit sad, and even mean-spirited that God would do this to His own Son. Why couldn't He just allow our sins to be forgiven? And this is where The Big One comes in to play. Like I said, I assume that it was taught, but I didn't learn it. Sometimes, God whispers in our ears, and we brush Him away like a fly. His messages can be hard to take, it is easier to ignore Him. Sometimes He lets it go. Other times, we will hear what He has to say no matter how afraid we are to get the real message. It's like He whomps you upside the head with a spiritual two-by-four.

We cannot feel the extent of God's love. Our little human hearts cannot bear it. We get teasers, but we won't be able to completely bask in it as long as we inhabit these bags of bones. When our souls are in Heaven, then we will revel in His love. It is because of the limits of our humanity that is easier to think God made Jesus endure more than three decades as man to earn redemption than to accept theTruth. As hard as that is to believe, it is still easier for our fragile human hearts than the Truth.

A couple of years ago, we had the old family movies copied onto DVDs. No one had watched them for about thirty years. My Grandma has been dead more than twenty-five of those years. As I sat in front of the computer, watching two-year-old me with Grandma, I found myself cheering for the toddler, "Pick her up. Oh please, pick her up." As though she'd heard my plea, long-ago Grandma bent over and picked up long-ago me. I could feel her arms around me once more. I could feel her love. (I still miss her ~ she was a great lady.) It was so wonderful to feel that again. I think she was in heaven watching me watch us. It was so overwhelming, I wept.

Once He finally made me understand The Big One, it was like that film of Grandma Johnson, to the nth degree. God didn't make Jesus do it. We did. We know we're unworthy. We offered sacrifices since the dawn of time, trying for expiation. God stopped Abraham from sacrificing his son, Isaac, to show us that we don't have to be worthy. He loves us anyway. We couldn't, or wouldn't, grasp it. Jesus came down, lived as one of us, died for us ~ not so God would forgive us, but so we would accept God's forgiveness. So we would believe that He'll forgive us even though we aren't worthy.

It is a love so powerful it is hard not to weep. It is so much bigger than any human love. We are so unworthy. And He doesn't care. Like any parent, He loves us regardless. He is waiting patiently to forgive us, we just have to ask. That is a mighty regal concept, befitting Christ the King.