I am thankful for my extended family...
Last Sunday, the Primary President asked me to come for Sharing Time and talk about how my extended family has been a blessing in my life. I am so lucky to have a large and supportive extended family, especially my in-laws! But I only had a few minutes and I figured most the children could relate to having a grandma, so I decided to share a story about my Grandma Fran.
{This is my last picture with my Grandma, Frances Campbell Bramwell, in August of 2004. She died in November of the same year.}
When I was about nine years old, I was lucky enough to live next door to my grandma. (I also had two aunts, an uncle and 6 or 7 cousins who also lived in my grandma's house.) In front of her house, there were two patios. One was next to the big window in her dining room. The other was next to the picture window in her living room. The one by her dining room was red and had a row of bushes under the window. The one by her living room was called the "high patio" because it was up 6 or 7 steps from the red patio and had a walk-out basement underneath it.
{This is an early picture of my grandma's house. The gray stone wall on the left is a fireplace that faced the red patio. Later, they built out the basement under the large window on the right- adding the "high patio".}
One day, I was playing with some of my siblings and my cousins on the "high patio". I don't really remember what we were playing that day but we often danced around that patio while watching our reflections in the big window. I would guess we were dancing that day because Ben, my younger brother by 14 months, and my cousin, Joy, decided it would be much more fun to jam a stick into a beehive that had been built in the ground under the bushes on the red patio than do whatever it was that we were doing.
Now, you might think this story is about my brother who dared to take on the nest of yellow jackets he had disturbed, but it isn't. You see, Ben and my other relations didn't actually think the "high patio" was all that "high" and they escaped the angry swarm by jumping off the far side of the patio and running around the house. I, on the other hand, thought the patio was plenty "high" and found myself with only one way to go- through the swarm. I ran down the stairs and across the red patio as fast as I could...
And waiting at the kitchen door was my Grandma Fran. She had been busy in the kitchen and I don't know if she actually saw what happened or just heard our screams, but she knew something was wrong and she was right there at the door to open it for me. She quickly shut it behind me and then- began to beat me with her dishtowel. Now, that may not sound like a very nice thing for my grandma to do, but really it was. She was using her dishtowel to swat the bees that were tangled in my hair and trapped in my shirt. After she had killed the bees, she pulled them from my hair and found ice for some of my bee stings (she didn't have enough for all 27 of them). We waited a little while, and then, because I was still scared to go outside, she walked me the whole 40 yards back to my own house and my mother.
I know it is part of our Heavenly Father's plan for us to belong to a family. And he knew that there would be times that our immediate family could not help us- so he extended our families. My mom was not really that far away on the day I was attacked by bees, but to my nine year old mind she was forever away. I am so grateful that my grandma was just at the other end of the patio, waiting to help me and comfort me and love me.
We don't always have someone just across the patio- but even when my family is not close in proximity, I feel their support on the phone and in my mailbox and in my heart. I am sure of their prayers and their love and that is generally enough.
I am so thankful for my extended family.
Note: In case you were wondering, there were others who were stung that day including my sister, Elizabeth, who had to run through the swarm with me, but Ben was only stung once for his curiosity and Joy was not stung at all. And it took me a while, but I did learn to jump off the "high" patio!
{This is my last picture with my Grandma, Frances Campbell Bramwell, in August of 2004. She died in November of the same year.}When I was about nine years old, I was lucky enough to live next door to my grandma. (I also had two aunts, an uncle and 6 or 7 cousins who also lived in my grandma's house.) In front of her house, there were two patios. One was next to the big window in her dining room. The other was next to the picture window in her living room. The one by her dining room was red and had a row of bushes under the window. The one by her living room was called the "high patio" because it was up 6 or 7 steps from the red patio and had a walk-out basement underneath it.
{This is an early picture of my grandma's house. The gray stone wall on the left is a fireplace that faced the red patio. Later, they built out the basement under the large window on the right- adding the "high patio".}One day, I was playing with some of my siblings and my cousins on the "high patio". I don't really remember what we were playing that day but we often danced around that patio while watching our reflections in the big window. I would guess we were dancing that day because Ben, my younger brother by 14 months, and my cousin, Joy, decided it would be much more fun to jam a stick into a beehive that had been built in the ground under the bushes on the red patio than do whatever it was that we were doing.
Now, you might think this story is about my brother who dared to take on the nest of yellow jackets he had disturbed, but it isn't. You see, Ben and my other relations didn't actually think the "high patio" was all that "high" and they escaped the angry swarm by jumping off the far side of the patio and running around the house. I, on the other hand, thought the patio was plenty "high" and found myself with only one way to go- through the swarm. I ran down the stairs and across the red patio as fast as I could...
And waiting at the kitchen door was my Grandma Fran. She had been busy in the kitchen and I don't know if she actually saw what happened or just heard our screams, but she knew something was wrong and she was right there at the door to open it for me. She quickly shut it behind me and then- began to beat me with her dishtowel. Now, that may not sound like a very nice thing for my grandma to do, but really it was. She was using her dishtowel to swat the bees that were tangled in my hair and trapped in my shirt. After she had killed the bees, she pulled them from my hair and found ice for some of my bee stings (she didn't have enough for all 27 of them). We waited a little while, and then, because I was still scared to go outside, she walked me the whole 40 yards back to my own house and my mother.
I know it is part of our Heavenly Father's plan for us to belong to a family. And he knew that there would be times that our immediate family could not help us- so he extended our families. My mom was not really that far away on the day I was attacked by bees, but to my nine year old mind she was forever away. I am so grateful that my grandma was just at the other end of the patio, waiting to help me and comfort me and love me.
We don't always have someone just across the patio- but even when my family is not close in proximity, I feel their support on the phone and in my mailbox and in my heart. I am sure of their prayers and their love and that is generally enough.
I am so thankful for my extended family.
Note: In case you were wondering, there were others who were stung that day including my sister, Elizabeth, who had to run through the swarm with me, but Ben was only stung once for his curiosity and Joy was not stung at all. And it took me a while, but I did learn to jump off the "high" patio!
posted by jenn | 3/29/2009
4 Comments:
I love that your grandma was able to make a terrifying experience a sweet memory. That is something special. You do have a wonderful family--you are a lucky, lucky girl.
I never jumped off the high patio. I was always too chicken and then they tore the house down. SAD!
Thank you, Jenn, for this wonderful memory. Gradma Fran was there for all of far more then we probably realize. I miss her very much.
I loved reading about these memories. I was lucky enough to live with my grandma for a year when I was 5, and to live fairly close to her until I was 12. My extended family all live in different states, but they are my lifeline. What a blessing!
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