My Grandma: An Inspiration

Violet Washburn grew up an orphan in England. With only a 3rd grade education she was determined to get the most out of life and ensure her children (and grandchildren) had more opportunities for success than did she.

While growing up, my family would occasionally spend the night at grandma's. Grandma would make enough food for an army, having slaved all day (if not also the day before) preparing pies, cookies, salads, meat & cheese plates, etc. I always gained weight from visiting Grandma's house. :)  The evenings would consist of either watching a movie with popcorn, or playing games. But one of my favorite activities, of which I wish now had been done more often, was looking for hidden treasure in the attic.

The attic was accessed by pulling the rope, found on the ceiling of the 2nd floor, that was attached to the stairs leading to the attic. Upon ascending the stairs to the attic, boxes and boxes of treasure could be found. Pictures, toys, tools, and even some paintings done by Grandma. We could spend hours up there with either Grandma or my dad sharing stories from 30, 50, 70 years before. One thing I learned is that Grandma has always been one beautiful woman!

Ten years ago, in 2002, my grandma was diagnosed with inoperable cancer. I remember being a senior in High School and writing in my journal the impact of this news. But the Lord spoke to her heart that her days wouldn't be cut short. She would always say that she figured that that meant she had at least 10 years left to live, and sure enough she did.

Grandma was known for her ability to worry, but when it dealt with her own health, she only had peace. She pointed to a paragraph in her well-worn devotional book and shared how God had spoken to her about His sovereignty and His peace. I was fighting back tears as she shared her faith in Jesus, her strong tower and source of strength and peace.

Last month I got the opportunity to see my grandma on two different occasions. The first was a tea party she organized for me and her friends who wanted to hear about my life in Africa. The second included just Heidi, Christy, and me. I will never forget what my grandma said to me as she held my hand, "This is probably the last time I will see you. I want you to know how proud I am of you. Now, I don't know how Heaven works, but if possible I'll be looking down from Heaven watching you and all my little family."

Me, Heidi, and Christy, with my Grandma Washburn
(Picture taken February 2012)

Last week I received the news that Grandma was not doing well. I was in Senegal at the time, heavily involved with the training of the new Peace Corps trainees.  I was running from meeting to meeting, spending hours on session plan development, and trying my best to be a source of encouragement and stability for the trainees. Needless to say, I didn't have much time to think about Grandma, to appropriately process her death, the pain of the loss.  In some respects, I felt detached from reality.

Thankfully, the sessions and meetings came to an end Thursday afternoon, allowing me the time to mourn, to process my emotions (something I've never really been that good at). In fact, that is one thing that I've learned through this experience: Allow yourself to feel pain, and appropriately deal with it; this is crucial for both healing and perfect peace.

I will never forget the memories I have of my beloved Grandma, her artistic talent, selfless love, acts of kindness, and faith in Jesus. Indeed, her life has been not just an encouragement but an inspiration to many.

I love you Grandma.