GRANNY

I was looking through some of my grandmother’s old papers after she died.  My mother wanted to toss the whole lot in the recycle bin (her one concession to being environmentally conscientious), but I wasn’t having it.  Not because I was particularly close to my grandmother.  I didn’t know her very well at all, but it felt somehow disrespectful to just dump everything like nothing about her was worth remembering.  I knew it would be a fairly monumental task since she was ninety-five when she died and yeah, I had a few second (and third and fourth and fifth) thoughts.  But she was feisty and had a wicked sense of humor, and she always made me laugh.  We never talked about anything deep or too serious.  I just thought of her as my fun granny, and I figured it would be a hoot to see her from her own perspective.

That’s what made it all the more surprising when I discovered upwards of three dozen notebooks filled with stuff she had written about the Bible.  I’m talking full on 8.5x11 college ruled paper, not some small journal sized things with lines half an inch apart.  Each one had been hand-written in her unmistakable, gorgeous, flowy, spidery script.

At first I thought to do nothing more than flip through them, partly because I felt like I would be intruding on her private thoughts a little too much, partly because I couldn’t really be bothered.  Musings about the Bible from a woman I barely knew?  Hard pass.

Then I got to the one on the bottom of the box they’d been stored in.

I opened it and the envelope fell out.

The one with my name on it.

It was made of parchment, but it didn’t look weathered or aged in any way.  All I could do was stare at the thing while the questions ran through my head.

Why?  Why me?  What could she possibly have to say to me?  We’d always gotten along well, but I didn’t think there was anything special to our relationship.  I was the only child of her only daughter, and let’s just say there was always an arctic chill in the air whenever the two of them were in the same hemisphere.  I thought she was much closer to my cousins.  All thirteen of them.  Maybe she’d written letters to each of us?  Maybe she was bequeathing something to us she didn’t want our parents to know about…?

Only one way to find out.

I took a deep breath, pried the envelope open and took out two sheets of parchment paper, unfolding them slowly.

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So I imagine most people would expect the traditional “dear so-and-so” greeting, but you and I both know that neither of us are most people, nor are we much into traditions of that sort.

Huh.  Didn’t think she knew me that well.

You’re probably wondering how I knew that about you.

Well, that’s not creepy or anything.

Something you probably didn’t realize about your ol’ granny is that I was quite adept at observing people and studying them.  I figured out early in life that keeping my mouth shut and really watching everyone around me, learning everything I could about them was…let’s just say it was a whole lot safer.

That…doesn’t sound good.

I know we didn’t talk much and when we did, you most likely just thought of me as your fun granny who always had a quip or two to make you laugh.  Which means there’s a possibility you won’t ever even read this letter.  But I’m banking on the fact that you are who I think you are, and you won’t want to see all my old papers and such just tossed out like garbage.

What, was this woman a mind reader???

It’s a risk, but one I’m willing to take.  It has to be your own curiosity and that grand imagination of yours that spurs you forward, not “fulfilling the last request of a dead woman” or any such nonsense like that.  I imagine that’s what would’ve happened if I’d just left this letter for you rather than you discovering it.

She’s got me there.  Even if I hate to admit she’s right.

We never really discussed anything concerning God or Jesus or the Bible, did we?

No, no we didn’t.  I just assumed it was your own private thing.

Let me assure you, it’s not because I thought of it like so many do, that your relationship with God is your own private affair and not to be foisted upon others.

Yeah.  Guess I shoulda seen that one coming.

It’s no secret that your mother and I weren’t, you know, close.  I know, understatement of the century, right?  If you want to hear the full story, well, actually I suppose that’s going to be impossible now since you’d only be reading this if I’ve slipped the surly bonds or earth, to be all poetic about it (and yes, I recognize that poem wasn’t about death, but hey, can’t a dead woman interpret poetry however she wants?).  So you can’t hear the story from my perspective.  I won’t pretend to know what your mother would say should you ask her, but I will tell you that she forbade me ever to speak to you about God or anything related to Him, and I did my utmost to respect her wishes.

Wow, Granny, you were a better woman than I could ever be!

Now, I recognize that if you do what I’m about to ask, it could be seen as breaking the spirit of your mother’s directive to me, and that does give me pause.  I guess the best thing to do would be to say that it would be a good idea to broach the subject with her before you commit to anything.  Because I’d like you to read my notebooks and journals, my musings on the Bible as I read and studied it throughout the years…and…other things.  As much as you can stomach, anyway.

Man.  I don’t know when you wrote this, Granny, but how could you have so much integrity even when you’re thinking about what’s gonna happen after you’re dead?

But only if your imagination is kindled.  Only if the ramblings of a woman you barely knew pique your curiosity.

Again with the mind reading…

I can’t say with certainty what’s going to happen when I cross from life here to life beyond in terms of whether or not I’ll be able to see what’s happening on earth.  But my earnest hope and prayer is that my notebooks and journals will find their way to you and from there…that you’ll find your way to true life.  Life as it was always intended to be.

Your Ever Fun and You Loving Granny

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Well, my curiosity certainly was piqued.  I wasn’t entirely sure what my imagination had to do with anything, but I was willing to find out.  I wanted to know what was so important to my grandmother that she felt it necessary not only to write the letter in the first place but risk her daughter’s wrath from beyond the grave.

The conversation with my mother…did not go well.  Which was in no way a surprise.  I was treated to all the expected vitriol towards my grandmother with an extra special dollop of venom aimed at God just for good measure.  In the end, though, I was uncharacteristically determined and made it clear that I was now an adult, not some impressionable child who couldn’t make intelligent choices.  What followed isn’t fit for polite company.  I decided, however, that rather than continue to listen to my worth as a human being be soundly and vehemently denied, I would make a final statement as to my intent and end the non-versation in as courteous a manner as I could.

My brain was fairly screaming — This so better be worth it!  —  as I sank onto my couch, shaking and sweating.

I threw an admittedly dark look at the box of journals.

Thanks for that, Granny!  Was your integrity really worth me being put through that?!?

I pointedly ignored the box for the next three days.

But eventually, the pain of the encounter with my mother lessened as it always did, and as I always did, I simply stuffed any residual rage and agony and despair into that special abyss I’d begun building as a child.  Much easier to maintain the persona of an actual living person that way.

Once the other feelings had been safely deposited and the door to the abyss firmly re-sealed, there was room for the curiosity to reassert itself.  I picked up the notebook on top of the stack in the previously scorned box.  Something I noticed this time that I hadn’t when I was flipping through them before was the peculiar way she organized her thoughts.  No paragraphs, just single lines.  I don’t know why that struck me, but it really stood out for some reason.

I was ready to dive into the first entry when memories of the contempt and derision in my mother’s voice came flooding back.  I promptly and viciously told my memories to shut up, then re-organized myself on the couch and settled in for what I hoped was at least a mildly interesting read.

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Been thinking a lot about what Genesis says concerning Adam and Eve.

Maybe it’d be more appropriate to say I’m thinking more about what it doesn’t say.

I know I can’t get carried away here, but the mind does wonder.

2:5 says God hadn’t sent rain, yet, but does that mean as soon as there was Man—rain?

And if there was rain in Eden, did Man and Woman have to build some kind of shelter?

Or did they really like getting soaked in the rain?

I know I do.

Must get that from somewhere, right?

One thing I can be pretty certain of is that there weren’t any violent weather conditions.

No tornadoes, hurricanes, tsunamis, lightning, hail.

That means they had no need to be protected from the elements.

Because the elements hadn’t gone haywire, yet.

Animals hadn’t gone all red in tooth and claw, yet, either.

So if they had no need for protection, probably no need for shelter.

Or at least what we think of as shelter.

Can you imagine?

Waking up every morning and seeing nothing but green growing things all around you?

Not the concrete and manufactured nightmare most of us have to endure.

Hang on, did they wake up?

I mean, did they have to sleep?

Was sleep always part of the deal?

Oh, the things I could do if I didn’t have to sleep…

Now that’s my idea of idyllic!

Then, it happened.

It all happened.

I know God knew it was all gonna go down like that, but man.

What I wouldn’t give to have been a deer or an owl or something in that Garden.

Then I could have screamed at Woman, “DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA WHAT YOU’RE DOING?!?”

Come to think of it, why didn’t any of the other animals say anything?

Couldn’t be bothered?

Not paying attention?

Otherwise occupied?

The Man — yeah, he had no such excuse, did he?

And so Man and Woman traded green growing things for human made everything.

And dying death.

Sigh.

One thing’s for sure.

I would NOT have wanted to be around for the conversation after they got the boot.

They’d already been playing the blame game.

Knowing men and women like I do, I don’t doubt that game went on and on and on…

“You’re the reason I had to become a farmer!  I hate farming!”

“Yeah, well, who decided to play tall, dark, and silent when I was being tempted?”

Did they ever get it?

No evidence one way or another in the Bible.

But I do think the “faith chapter” of Hebrews is telling.

The writer began with Abel, not his papa.

Woman?

Yeah, she was all kindsa messed up after the Great Rebellion, wasn’t she?

By all accounts, she focused solely on her sons.

Her statement when Cain was born is a doozie.

It almost seems to imply that she saw her son as the man Adam was not.

(Really hate to say it but I know too many women today who think exactly like that.)

Then Seth was born and whoah, doggie, she uses THE WORD.

She calls Seth her “seed”.

Coincidence that she used the same word God did in 3:15?

Gonna go with a big, fat NO on that one.

Did she see her son as the savior God promised?

Again, I know way too many women who look to their sons to rescue them.

Because they’ve given up on their husbands.

We all take after our ultimate mother in one way or another.

Can’t say whether or not she ever turned it around and returned to her Creator.

Seems to me God would’ve at least given us a clue or two if that had been the case.

Afterall, John didn’t say we need to produce fruits worthy of repentance for nothing.

Did she repent with her dying breath like the criminal on the cross?

Who knows.

Only God.

And like Abraham posited, shall not the Judge of all the earth give a just judgement?

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I closed the notebook and stared blankly into space.

What did I just read???

It was definitely nothing like what I’d expected.  I have no idea what I expected, but it definitely wasn’t that.

Who even thinks that way about the Bible?  Who asks questions like that?

Certainly not me.  But maybe…maybe Granny was onto something.