There have been many times growing up that I looked to find my foundation, my rock. I came from a set of divorced father having gone to court to gain custody three times with no success. It was a time when mothers always got custody, a time when the best parent wasn't necessarily the one who took the child home,

My father is a good man. He worked hard to create a place for me where I felt loved and cared for. I cherished the times that I got to spend time with him...baking bread, hiking and camping, reading in the sun...I looked forward to each weekend, week, month that was ours.

I was especially lucky because my grandparents were also foundational in my life. Every Wednesday and Sunday, they would pick me up from school (or home if it was Sunday) and take me to church.  Youth group on Wednesday, Sunday School on Sunday. For me it was partly about church, but really it was about having time with my grandparents. I loved seeing them. On Wednesdays we would go to dinner and I would often get some sort of toy. I ate with them, played games, and felt as if I was the most important person in the world. Sunday would bring more time with them...they were my foundation.

When my youngest some as born, they wrapped me up in their love...never losing faith, never losing hope. They prayed over my son's broken body, lifting him up. They stood in the light with me, holding me up when the times were scary, comforting me, reminding me that this boy was meant to do more...his spirit was intended to be upon this world, his time was not here. He is their "Big Boy," their connection strong...

A few years ago (this fall will be three), my Grandfather passed away suddenly. At 95 he had been a pillar of the community and, although not totally healthy, still relatively good. He had just come from the doctor proclaiming his good health about three hours earlier. It was a crushing blow. Just a few days from Thanksgiving, we gathered ourselves together, celebrated and mourned. My foundation, in many ways, was forming cracks from the loss.

My Grama, still strong, remained my foundation. Her words of wisdom, gentle soul and spirit, continue to be my guidance. Two years ago, I got a saying that she has written many times, tattooed on my arm. Her statement of "it will be there forever" made me laugh then and now. Of course it will's permanent! :)

Needless to say, this past Monday she had a stroke. A small part of me crumpled inside. She is 95...I realize that for many that means she is near the end of her path, but I am not ready...I need more time. She is healing slowly...her spirit still strong. She is my foundation, my rock...I am not ready to walk the path alone.


  1. Shannon, sending my thoughts and hugs from afar to you, your Grandma, your dad, and all your family. Such a touching tribute to such a kind and gentle soul. GeGe


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