I believe in my grandmother.
I believe in her ability to always “turn lemons into lemonade.” How she can always make what she needs out of a clothespin, a bowl, and a sweater. She might lack a college degree but she is the most innovative person I know, a real life MacGyver.
I believe in the way she holds and protects our family from the rest of the world. She is our armor and our haven. I know that no matter what, she will be there. She will love me unconditionally. She will never hurt me accidentally with a careless word, never abandon me for another. She is our rock.
But most of all, I believe in her faith. I believe in the way she is connected unconditionally to God, how nothing and no one could ever make her question her faith. A tornado could rip away her house, and she would stand among the ruins and praise Him. She is a real-life Job.
She is my hero, not a famous leader or a supernatural being, just her. Her name will never be displayed in a plaque of marble. She doesn’t mind. No statue will ever hold her likeness. That’s doesn’t bother her. She is free from all of the human desires of fame and fortune, the constant hole in your heart that will never be filled, no matter how much you succeed. This trait, this ability to find satisfaction in the rose petals and the songs of the birds, is what makes her so unique and special and wonderful. Every day she teaches me how to live with grace and contentment, so that when I reach the new adventure of death, I welcome it with open arms.
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