Are Grandmothers Sacred?
Perhaps there's something about grandmothers that resonates in the soul
I recently heard someone say that “our grandmothers are the most sacred part of our population.” I’ve been pondering that. Every member of the human family is sacred, of course—innocent babies, sacrificial mothers, noble veterans, etc.—but perhaps there is something that resonates in the soul about the sacredness of grandmothers.
It isn’t quite right to say that grandmothers are mothers on steroids (that paints quite a picture—like King Kong in an apron or something). It’s more like grandmothers are teddy bears, pixie dust, and Mrs. Claus all rolled into one. At least some of them are; others are a bit more like Dolores Umbridge. But as a whole, most folks would agree that grandmas are a rather decent bunch.
This makes me feel good because I recently BECAME A GRANDMOTHER myself! I don’t think I can claim all the grandeur and wisdom of the title mere months into my sojourn in the grandmother club, but I’m trying it on for size, and I like it. I think I like being a grandma so much for three reasons:
Watching my daughter care tenderly for her baby reminds me that I once cared for my daughter in all those same beautiful, exhausting, sanctifying ways—and I did a pretty reasonable job of it. You tend to forget how truly hard all that work was after two decades pass. Now that I’m watching it all play out again in real time, I’m in awe of my daughter and of me (and my own mom) all at the same time.
Reflecting on all that work I did is not just satisfying, it is now obvious that it was entirely WORTH IT! I’ve raised a human who is compassionate, skilled, and committed enough to raise another human. This is a momentous success.
It is surprisingly potent to hold a charming little chubby baby on your lap and see her smile wholeheartedly at you. Just when you’ve almost forgotten how holy and hilarious a thing it is to cuddle and play with a baby, one tumbles into your life again and you laugh because you love it so much.
As all this happens, the tendrils of love you have tended for decades plunge deeper into your soul and your life—despite its horrific moments and epic challenges—seems worth it. You see the results of your years of effort, imperfect as they may have been, rolling on into the future. And somehow you feel your soul can rest. And even rejoice.
I guess that’s why grandmothers are generally a jolly, joyful, peaceful lot. They are savoring the long-awaited fruit of their years and decades of labor. And it is delicious.
So are grandmothers the most sacred among us? I don’t know. But I do know that as a whole they have cherished all of us; they have held us sacred. They helped us when we were utterly helpless and loved us when we had done nothing at all to deserve their love.
And that counts for something.
That’s me (with the heart on my chest) when I was four with my mom, my grandma, and my great grandma.