Who I want to be like when I grow up...

 

I'm one of the lucky ones.  I knew Veda Raben.  If you happen to be one of those people, too, you know what I mean. 

But I'm not only someone who knew her.  I was one of the privileged few to call her family.  But even more than just being one of the thirteen people to call her 'Grandma'...I got to live right next door!  I was one of the lucky privileged few to spend my entire childhood by her side...

I have so many good memories of time with her...dancing around the living room to "Shake Your Sillies Out";  sitting in her echo-y stairwell with the phone cord stretching across the whole house to listen to the weekly library call-in story; taking the tiny little Tupperware bucket with it's little wire handle that she had filled with raisins and sitting quietly in the dark in the wardrobe on her back porch;  hiking with my cousins at Toadstool park; watching her tell flannel board stories in Sunday School;  rolling out butter horn rolls in a warm kitchen on a Formica table;  walking through the wheat field with scissors clipping stalks and then taking them home and turning them into beautiful wreaths & crosses & hearts;  eating fish she fried that we'd caught ourselves that afternoon;  sitting at her sewing machine as she taught me the basics of the craft for 4-H.

I took walks to the pond, walks to the windmill, and walks to the chicken coop to gather eggs.  I helped butcher chickens, brand cows and snap green beans,  All with Grandma by my side.  

I went with her to craft shows to "help" as she sold her wheat weaving creations and this is where I remember asking her a million questions about her family and childhood.  She would share but I got the impression she left out the worst bits.  She never had much to say about her dad.  I always imagined it was because she believed in the adage,  "If you don't have anything nice to say, don't say anything at all."   She left home when she was still a teenager and started working hard and serving others.  And I'd say she never really stopped until the very end.   She was born at the start of the Great Depression and she learned early on not to be wasteful.  I remember, as a teen, watching her put a single tablespoon of mashed potatoes back in the fridge to eat later.

I imagine she had a rough start in life but that's the thing that amazes me most  about her--her greatest beauty came from her kind, positive outlook.  She didn't let the hard parts define her.  She worked her fingers to the bone--serving her husband, her kids, her church...all with an admirable grace.  She served the Ladies Auxiliary, the Veterans, the Gideons, the schools, the library, the missionaries & evangelists.  She cooked and cleaned and gardened and raked.  She served so many people with her food over the years and yet wouldn't eat a bite until everyone else was taken care of.  And that included children, too!  Maybe sometimes children most of all.  I remember many Christmases where she would forsake her own hot meal to make sure one of her grandchildren had another cup of juice.

She treated all kids with special care and respect.  Her bag was filled with shoestrings, beads & magnets every Sunday.  Any child entering her home was welcomed like a special guest and she would pull activities and toys and trinkets and crafts from the nooks & crannies and create a magical experience in minutes.  But the things that really made it so magical was her.  She didn't drag out toys and leave us to play.  No!  She sat along side us and helped our stubby fingers string those beads;  she'd sit at the table and pour the vanilla milk out of the ceramic cow with us.  She'd sit on the floor and take us on a "tiger hunt" or do one of her many finger plays with us.   She engaged!  She was present!  She was gentle but firm.  She didn't put up with disobedience or shenanigans.  If you messed around, she would plop you on the couch for a nap. 

She was special.  She was selfless, kind and full of love.  She spoke words of affirmation & understanding.  She rarely complained...a trait I came to admire & appreciate more & more as I've aged.  While my first instinct is always to complain--even in her suffering she would look to the positive.  When given the chance to lament some hardship or other in her life, she would use the opportunity to reflect on the good instead.  She was never the squeaky wheel --but always the grease!

She was a balm to the weary soul.  She was the umbrella on a rainy day.  She was a light in my life and many others'.  Her mix of practical, down-to-earth thinking, her determined work ethic, and her positive gentle spirit is exactly what the world needs more of.

I am one of the lucky ones.  I am one of the privileged ones.  I may not be the most special girl in the world but she sure made me feel that way.  And I want to be like her when I grow up.

I will miss her so much.  But, boy, am I happy for her!  If there is anyone who deserves to rest in the arms of Jesus, it's her.