I remember some events from my childhood not so much as mind boggling ones but ones that usually were everyday occurrences. However, the one I am about to relate I wouldn’t exactly call usual.
One day, we (my sister and brother) came home from school and there was my Gram, of sixty-odd-years, standing on top of our slanted garage room, repairing shingles. She called out to us and as we looked up she waved to us with a shingle in one hand and a hammer in the other. Now as I look back at that scene I laugh at the figure she must have cut to anyone passing by. But to me, she looked as normal as apple pie in July. I hardly ever saw her a “grandmother.” She was always just Gram to me. It was not so unusual seeing her doing the oddest jobs about the house and yard. She was firmly believed that, if a thing had to be done, just DO it!
That evening at dinner, when the events of the day were discussed, Gram quietly told my Aunt she repaired the shingles on the garage roof. Well! She had a fit. “What?” said she, “You went up on the roof? Suppose you slipped and fell” suppose…” I remember wondering what all the fuss was about. Gram was always doing stuff like that!
Now that I am up around that age—I say this with a twinkle in my eye—I often console myself with the fact that perhaps I am too “on in” years to do certain things which I consider beyond my age or, worse, dignity. Almost instantly that all-too-vivid picture of Gram standing on top of the roof with hammer and shingle in hand disperses all pride and slothfulness from me. In no time at all I tackle the project I consider too difficult “at my age.” The Bible has a great deal to say concerning work and slothfulness. As early in Job’s era, God blessed his workmanship. Job 1:10. The heavens praised the work of creation in Psalm 19:1. Jesus with the Father He has finished the work He gave Him to do in John 17:4. surely good hard work must be an honorable thing.
I can hardly remember Gram not working. I’m sure she was the feminine version of the “Jack of all Trades.” Yet, she never lost her femininity. She was as gentle and caring, nursing one of us back from a sickness and at the same time pouring out a pan of milk for the many stray cats that found their home in the rafters of said garage.
