It was difficult growing up without my grandparents. I didn't always understand at the time, but things are clearer, now, as I look back. When I was around 11, I remember two women who came to our church. One was the mother of our pastor's wife. Lovely lady. Small with snow white hair, smooth face, and warm smile. I adored her. She visited several times each year, and I would hang on every word she said and follow her around like a lost puppy. I sat with her in church and enjoyed hearing the sound of our voices singing together. She sang harmony, and I was proud that I could sing along with her. I asked for her address and sent her letters when she was away. I don't remember what I would say, but she wrote back often. How kind of her. Then , a new lady came to our church who played the organ. She was not quite as old as our pastor's mother. She had short brown hair and a very sweet presence about her. Maybe she was shy or maybe I was shy, but we never really spoke. Instead, I would write her little notes and leave them in her pew. I thought it was a secret that I admired her so much. Of course, she knew those notes were from me the whole time. I rarley tell this part of the story, but it demonstrates the depth of the hole in my life. I used to write her name on stuff (I'll give her a fictional name--Jill Daisytree). "I heart Jill Daisytree", I would write--and I would think. I wondered why do I have these feelings, these longings for a relationship with this woman I barely knew? Still, "I heart Jill Daisytree" I would write and feel. Soon, my girl friends saw these writings, and questioned me. I was embarrassed. I couldn't explain why I would write such a thing about a grandmotherly lady. So, I stopped writing notes and stopped writing "I heart Jill Daisytree" and I stopped feeling things. It was a conscious decision. For years, I would look back at that time and wonder what in the world was wrong with me. Seems simple, now to see the longing for a grandmother to love me. After that, there was one other woman who had a great impact on my life. I loved her just like the pastor's wife. She was my teacher, and I did everything I could to please her. She was kind and recognized the searching in my life. She probably didn't know the details, but she loved me and took me under her wing. She left our school when I was 16, but I continued correspondence with her until a few years ago. Even now, I occasionally feel a desire to email her. Maybe someday I will tell her what I know now that I didn't know then, that God used her to fill a space in me that was so empty.
your vulnerability is precious. i do know those feelings of wanting an older woman to look to. God gave me a few growing up. the heart is deep beyond understanding, i think.
Ps 27:4 One thing I have desired from the LORD, that I will seek after: that I may dwell in the house of the LORD all the days of my life, to behold the beauty of the LORD, and to pray in His temple.(MKJV)
About Me
Name: Mandy Home: United States About Me: I'm Mandy. Wife, mother, worship leader, photographer and lover of Jesus.
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Hooked - looking forward to reading more.