One Hundred Years Ago

My grandmother died last year, just 17 months short of a century. Her birth was the same year that Robert Perry became the first man to reach the North Pole and Henry Ford introduced the Model T, the car that “put America on wheels.” And in a small town on the Colorado plains along the Arkansas River, my grandmother was born. The citizens of Swink, Colorado were still on horseback when Edna May Ridgway was born June 11, 1908. Few of them had completed eighth grade, which to many was considered a “higher education.” Most homes in this little town still had dirt floors.

Oh, what changes Grandma saw in her 98 years.

A Rosie the Riveter during WWII, who later took classes to get her nursing license. She taught Sunday School and was active in youth activities with my mother. But her family was her greatest joy.
She & Granddad used to harmonize on car trips. Their favorite song:
"It Is No Secret What God Can Do"

She was always there for my big events.

(Whose expression is most winsome?)

When my baby was flown 400 miles away for heart surgery,

she came to be with me.

Grandma, you're a doll!!

About ten years before her death, Grandma took a pen and a thin school notebook and wrote as much of her own personal history as she could recall or had the energy to put down at the time. Eighteen pages of neat and crisp manuscript, not cursive. It is like sitting across the table and conversing with her. She wrote with the same manner of speech we came to know well. Grammar was not her forte, nor was spelling. Yet, there was a highly intelligent, albeit not highly educated woman reaching out from that notebook and inviting me into a past I had only heard bits and pieces of over the years. There was much more to tell. Not included were stories she had shared with me as we drove to garage sales or reupholstered furniture or sat together in one of our homes.
Today she would have celebrated a century of life. Instead, she left us 17 months before that milestone. When I last saw her, I spoke about the party we would have for her 100th. She said, without self-pity or sentiment, that she hoped she would be going home to be with the Lord before that time. And, indeed, she did.
Shortly before she passed away, I sat next to her in the nursing home parlor, my laptop propped up so she could see photos I’d taken of my sister’s wedding the day before. Suddenly my cell phone rang and she held it to her ear to visit with her granddaughter calling from a distant airport awaiting a flight to Mexico. That nursing home was approximately 30 miles from Swink, but she had come a farther distance in many ways.

How grateful we are for the 98 years we had her. How joyful I am to know that we will meet again. It is no secret what God can do!!! Happy 100th, Grandma!! We miss you.