To Know That They Are Loved

When my maternal grandmother passed from this life in 2012, she was just one month shy of her 97th birthday. Until the last few months of her life, when she entered hospice care at home, she was still very vital, getting her own groceries, attending her church, hosting a Bible study in her home, organizing a mission outreach to support people during the holidays who were struggling, volunteering at a local food bank, and delighting in visiting with her children, grandchildren, great grandchildren, and the growing number of great great grandchildren. Hers was a life of service and love, in so many ways. 

I can point directly to her example of service to others as the most significant influence on my own career, which has been exclusively in service to others. It is my strongest passion, in addition to the relationships I have with the people I love. My undergraduate college degree is in Public Service. My Masters degree is in Divinity, which led me to the work I have done in churches, other nonprofits, and now Someone To Tell It To.

My grandmother also read the physical newspaper from cover to cover every day. She was well-versed in the news of the day and would talk knowledgeably - and caringly - about it. Especially when it was news of people who were hurting, knocked down by disasters, or finding life to be incredibly hard. When I was alone with her in her home, just two days before she died, in what turned out to be my last visit with her, she even commented on the upcoming presidential election less than two weeks away, voicing her opinion of which candidate she preferred and why, even though she wouldn’t be able to vote. She confided in me, believing that I preferred the same candidate, too. She was right. I did. 

Nearly all of her grandchildren - my siblings, cousins and I -  spoke at her funeral, in the overflowing pews of the church in which all of us were raised. We each told stories of her goodness, her compassion, her caring, her kindness, and how we never wanted to disappoint her. She was a paragon of grace and generosity. We all wanted to live up to the belief that she had in us, which was always positive and encouraging. Nearly all of us also gave an example when we know we didn’t live up to her beliefs in what we were capable of doing and how good we could be.

But despite any of our mistakes, bad actions, selfishness, unkindness, or any other not-so-perfect behavior, our grandmother always - and I mean always - gave us grace, loved us unconditionally, and saw the best in us. She never appeared to waver in being proud of us and constantly delighted in seeing us when we visited or talking to us when we called. 

At her funeral, when it was my turn to speak, I related a memory that was brought back to me from a photo I had from my childhood. My sister Carol and I were in bathing suits on the patio that was in the backyard of our family home. There was a small child’s swimming pool on the patio and another child, a girl, was in the photo with us. I don’t know the exact year that the photo was taken and I don’t remember the other girl’s name. She was black and she was from New York City. She was spending two weeks at our grandparents’ home, as part of the Fresh Air Fund - a charity organization that still exists. It gave urban, inner city children opportunities to spend two weeks each summer in the homes of more rural families. It gave the families and the young children the opportunity to see how other people lived. One of the main values of the Fund is to “ … recognize that everyone has equal value and treat them as such. My grandparents hosted children for several summers in the 1960s.I looked forward to those visits every year. I remember eagerly riding with my grandparents to the bus station in York, Pennsylvania, to pick up the children coming from New York. I vaguely remember that every year there were girls who they hosted. I loved playing with them and getting to know about their lives in the big city, a place I had never yet been to back then; it seemed exotic to me, who grew up in the country. There was always something exciting about meeting other kids from a big city, whose ethnicity and communities were vastly different from mine. While the program was not perfect (there were reports of racial discrimination against some of the children, among other issues), I knew that my grandmother hosted those children out of a good and caring heart, genuinely wanting to offer them kindness and generosity. I didn’t know anyone else who did something like that. But she did good and caring things like that throughout all of her long life. I rarely got to interact with or really know people of color when I was a child. Our community was not diverse at all. Yet, my grandmother's values introduced to me people who were different from me. It planted seeds in me about seeing those who were different from me as just as significant and valued as I knew I was.

My grandmother was always reading, studying, learning, and setting an example for being the best person - the most humble and service-minded person - she could be. I know that I got so many of my values from her. The examples she set are still a guidestar for me. She was a beacon of empathy, compassion, and goodness. I know that my siblings and cousins feel the same. For that matter, so did - and do - countless others who knew our grandmother throughout her life. 

I want to set that same example, too. I want to always be learning, growing, caring, and being someone who lives a kind, generous, and truly compassionate and empathetic life. I, too, want to look for the best in people, to see them as persons of deep worth, people who simply, like all of us, who just want to be respected, valued, and loved. People who have something unique and good to offer to this world and this life we all share. 

It’s a constant, ongoing, never-ending quest to be that kind of person. But seeing my grandmother do it, I know that it is possible. I strongly believe that it is worth the effort to do it.

I want to do it because it was done for me. I want to do it because my grandmother set a beautiful example by doing it herself. I want to do it because that’s exactly what this world needs so that it can be the place I believe it was meant to be - for everyone to find hope, for everyone to thrive and not merely exist, and for everyone to know that they are loved. 

Photo by Martin Péchy on Unsplash