I NEED A GRANDMA! (a short story I wrote about the start of an unusual friendship)

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I stepped into her tiny office.  There was hardly room to turn around within it and the walls were virtually made up of file cabinets. I thought of how many people were represented in those files there; how many people had come here never to leave again. 

The woman behind the desk was an attractive lady in her early sixties.  “ACTIVITY DIRECTOR” - That’s what it said on her door.  What is that anyway?  She smiled kindly at me, introduced herself and asked, “How may I help you?”

“Hi, my name is Sally Bentley and I’m looking for a grandma.”

She opened one of her file drawers. “And what’s her name?” she asked.

“No, I need to find someone to be my grandma.”

My only living grandmother had died a few weeks before and I had enjoyed our visits.  I had sort of established a pattern of going to see her every Wednesday morning taking my children with me.  She was a funny lady – very direct and extremely (often too) honest.  She had died in her sleep in her managed care facility.  I missed her.

“My grandma passed away recently and I wondered if there might be a lady here who would appreciate regular visits.”  I had some stipulations – “I’d like a woman, with all of her ‘marbles’, who doesn’t get many visitors.”  The activity director seemed surprised at the request – which in turn surprised me.  Clearly this place was loaded with lonely grandmas for people to adopt.

A huge smile crossed her face.  “Have I got the lady for you!  Follow me.” 

            We left her little closet of an office and headed down a long hall with white walls and chair rails on either side.  There were people seated in wheelchairs lining the corridor.  Some smiled back at me as I smiled and said hi.  Others looked back with vacant stares.  Permeating it all was the unmistakable smell of urine.  I came to the immediate conclusion that this was not a place I would really enjoy visiting every week. 

I’m not sure I can do this I thought as we continued down the endless halls.  Finally, she stopped at a doorway and whispered, “This is Virginia Turner’s room.  She has a disease that has made her unable to walk or care for herself.  She’s extremely intelligent and loves to read.”  I swallowed hard and in we went.

There lay a nice looking lady in her early sixties.  She was propped up with pillows.  Her bed was cranked into a seated position.  She had a very intent look on her face. She was wearing headphones and was listening attentively to whatever was coming through them.

The activity director greeted her enthusiastically and slipped her headphones off. She looked up and smiled.  They obviously knew each other fondly.

 “Virginia this is Sally and she’s looking for a grandma.”   She looked a little confused.

I explained, “My grandma died recently and I just came over to try to find a new one.”

Virginia’s face lit up beautifully and I saw traces of the lovely young woman she must have once been.  She had flawless skin, hardly a wrinkle and big blue eyes.  There was an awkward moment of silence, neither of us really knowing quite what to say.

“I just wondered if you might like a visitor now and then.  I hear that you like to read.  I’m a great reader!”

She sort of looked me over a bit and finally spoke, “How old are you?” she asked. 

“I’m 30 years old.  I’m married to an L.A. County Fireman.  We have two kids; Matt, who’s 6 and Stephanie, who’s 7.”  Why do I feel like I’m applying for a job?  Does she think I’m some kind of weirdo?  Of course she does, who else comes traipsing into a convalescent home and says, “Will you be my grandma?”

“I’m too young to be your grandma but I’ll be your friend.” She said with a smile.

I liked her.  I reached out to shake her hand.  “Well it’s nice to meet you.”  She looked down at my hand and just stared at it.   Was I out of line or something?  Then she very slowly and deliberately lifted her right hand.  It was obviously not fully functional but she got it into my waiting hand.  I squeezed it gently and felt it pop in my hand.  Oh great, Sally!!  You brake her hand the first time you meet her.  She flinched a bit but looked at me warmly.  “Sorry” I said.  Mental note:  Don’t hurt the nice lady!!

“So what can I do for you when I come to visit?”

“I have letters that I need to write.  I need books ordered.  There are a few items I occasionally need from the store.  I need help ordering clothes from a catalog.  And I’d like you to read to me.”  Oh great, what have I signed onto?  This lady sounds like a full time job.

“I can only come once a week.”

“That’ll be wonderful.”

And so began weekly visits that continued for the next 16 years.

I am a Christian – not just an “I go to church and give money” Christian.  I love the Lord with all of my heart.  I live for Him.  I study the Bible and seek to be obedient to the truths He’s teaching me there.

Virginia was an instrument of God in my life, not because she was a Christian; for indeed I never knew her to respond to the gospel.  I was faithful to share it with her. 

But God used her to teach me to be delighted with the little things in life – being able to walk around the block, go grocery shopping, even clean my own toilets.  Virginia could do none of that and yet rarely complained. 

That woman who had nothing to give, gave me a life-long gift more precious than gold….CONTENTMENT!  Phil. 4:11