last week I made a trip to warman to help my grandma put her garden in. not that she needs any help of course, she’s done this for fifty years now and has it down to a fine art. people wander by her garden during the summer and ask how she gets things to grow the way she does. tomatoes the size of your fist. strawberries that taste the way you know they should.

so I think my ‘help’ is more of an excuse for us to spend some time together. it was a perfect evening – calm and quiet with just a touch of humidity in the air. her neighbors came over to say hi and chat for a minute while we cleaned up the yard.

I remember when I was a kid they had a garden as big as a park, it seemed to stretch on forever. there was an endless amount of food that came pouring out of that dirt and we knew that it would all be turned into part of that nights feast. I remember watching her quietly shell peas or cut up potatoes while I played at her long kitchen table. I would be busy coloring or putting together a lego castle and every now and again she would bring me over a cookie or a small bowl of raspberries with fresh milk. she never said alot, maybe that’s where I get my quiet demeanor from.

I don’t know if another person has taught me as much as her though. never through words, always through actions.

every single person that came to her house always left with a plate of food. when we went to visit someone she took time to talk with them for a few extra minutes, she was never in a hurry. she still prays for each of her grandkids every day. she still worries about all of us. she went/goes to church every sunday and is the same person the rest of the week as she is during the one hour she spends in that building. she admires how God sends the rain to make her garden grow.

she teaches me how to be the kind of person I know I want to be.