When I was a little girl I stayed with my Gramma quite often.
She made the most beautiful quilts that were warm and cozy on cold winter nights.
One night when she was tucking me in I told her the quilt was awfully heavy.
She said the quilt seemed heavy because my Guardian Angel was on the bed with me.
Of course, I believed her, Gramma would never lie.
I am a long way from childhood but I still believe in Guardian Angels.
I know without a doubt they exist.
I have never seen one but I have felt their presence more than once.
And I know that without my Guardian Angel watching over me
life would be really frightening.
I have no idea what an angel looks like.
I don’t think they look like the pictures in books.
I know they are different from people and don’t have bodies like people
because they are heavenly creatures.
I know they are neither male nor female they are just angels.
I know they can travel faster than my imagination.
They are always where they need to be at the right time,
never early never late.
I know I have a Guardian Angel.
What I don’t know is if there is one assigned to me or more than one.
I sometimes wonder if there is day and night shifts for angels,
or week-end and holiday shifts.
Or maybe there are specialist angels;
one that stays home and one that goes to work with me,
one assigned to travel and another when I am sick, etc.
I guess it doesn’t matter what I know or don’t know except
that I do believe there are angels.
I am very thankful that angels are real
and that my Guardian Angel is always with me.
Today, I think there have been times that I have given my Guardian Angel fits.
But I know an angel never gets tired or gives up on the one they are watching over.
So, no matter what I am covered just like with Gramma’s quilt.
When I was doing laundry the other day I got to thinking about my Gramma. About her underwear to be specific. Maybe it’s weird but one of my favorite memories of her is her underwear.
Gramma was short–not quite five feet tall. And she was—not exactly what you would call fat—but she was—well—round. Her shape was more of a small barrel than an hourglass.
What was interesting about her underwear was her choice of underwear. She wore a corset.
I mean every single day she wore a corset.
Sort of like this one
And yes, she wore stockings. Elastic support hose. Except in summer. Then she wore cotton hose.
The fun part was when she took her corset off to put her nightie on. She would hang the corset on the closet door. It looked like her body was still in it. It was shaped just like her! I am not sure if her corset was shaped by her body or her body by the corset. Anyway, it would hang on the closet door until morning when she would put it on again under her house dress.
Oh, and under the corset she wore something like this
Quite the stylish gramma she was!
I wonder what she would think of underwear today?
Today, I think…though I am not really a Victoria’s Angel kinda gal I am definitely glad Gramma’s underwear is not in my drawer…or hanging on the closet door…
In my family there are few things that would be called heirlooms. First, because we aren’t and never have been wealthy, so rarely if ever, do we have things of any great monetary value. Second, for the most part it seems there was not much emphasis on the sentimental value of things.
I am a bit sentimental though and have a few things I would find it difficult to part with if I had to. One of them is Gramma’s rocking chair.
Gramma got it when she was pregnant with my mother which makes the rocker 95 years old. There are lots of memories that come with this chair. I remember when staying with Gramma, every morning she would sit in the sunroom in her rocker and do her crossword puzzle and every afternoon she would be there crocheting.
When Gramma died the rocker went to my mother. I don’t remember Ma sitting in it but I know having it was very important and special to her. After my parents died the chair came to be mine. It is a treasured possession and I do sit in it on occasion, usually to pray.
The fabric has been changed a few times and I am contemplating having it recovered. As far as I know it has always been in an “old” looking fabric. But I am thinking of doing it in a bright bold contemporary floral. What do you think?
I have been thinking about my grammas. They were two very different women in looks and temperament. They had a few things in common though. They both were generous but frugal. They did not spend money on something that they could make or on anything that they felt wasn’t needed. The gifts they gave were usually practical things that could be used. Both of them gave a lot of food to everyone and anyone who was hungry–whether they knew them or not.
Another thing they both did was give away what they knew. They gave advise–asked for or not–and always thoughtfully and kindly–never in a bossy or arrogant way. What you did with their advise was up to you–there was no “I told you so” in their vocabulary.
Both women taught–not in school–but lessons for everyday life. One gramma taught me how to do laundry and how to crochet. The other gramma taught me how to dust and how to embroider. I still enjoy crocheting and needlework and I don’t mind laundry and dusting–at least not much. Both taught me a bit about baking and that a nap every day is good for you
The best lessons I learned from my grammas were taught by both– that love can be unconditional, listening is a gift, and pray everyday.
Oh, and they both taught me not to scratch my butt or pick my nose in public–what you do when you are by yourself in the bathroom is up to you.
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