Tomorrow is Easter and something about the holiday has me thinking about my great grandmother, whom I called Meme.
Maybe I’m thinking about her because the iris that came from her backyard bloomed this week (in my backyard). Or maybe it’s because I saw a whole display of corsages at Wal-Mart today and we always bought her one to wear to church on Easter Sunday. One year she didn’t get to wear it to church because we forgot to set our clocks forward and missed church altogether.
Meme played a vital role in teaching me about Jesus. When I was six-years-old she gave me my first Bible. It was pink and my name “Jennifer Mishon” was printed on the leather cover in gold letters. I spent many Sunday mornings sitting next to Meme in an old wooden church pew at Calvary Baptist Church. Meme would always hand me two shiny quarters to put in the offering plate. I would slip the coins into an offering envelope and place it in the tray when it passed in front of me.
I would listen as she sang (loudly) the words of all the old hymns. As she grew older and battled Alzheimer’s she didn’t always recognize me, but she never forgot the words to songs like “Amazing Grace” and “The Old Rugged Cross.” She would tap her foot to the beat of the music and sing to Jesus. I can’t help but think of her each time I hear one of those old hymns.
When Meme died, I was given one of her Bibles. It was old, tattered and worn. The pages faded from years gone by – a reminder that she lived her life by God’s Word.
This Easter I’m not only thankful for the love of my Savior, but the love of a great-grandmother who planted many spiritual seeds during my childhood. Seeds that took root and sprouted during my teenage years and have blossomed into a faith that I cling to each and every day. Faith in Jesus Christ – the only reason I can have hope.