Working to Love

The clanking sounds of pots and pans. The smell of garlic. As a kid, this is what I often woke up to - at 4:00 am - when visiting my grandparents.

This past weekend, my parents traveled over 750 miles to see my grandmother, my dad's mom. She is my last living grandparent. But, the end of her life is imminent. She was recently put under hospice care and my parents went to see her one last time.

Over the weekend, I received text messages from my mom. Each time I was saddened by my grandmother's current state. She is no longer the grandma I remember.

Growing up, my grandparents lived about four hours away from us. We visited. They visited. But, I never had the relationship with them that I did with my mother's parents, who lived in the same town. As I reflected on this this weekend, I struggled to remember a time when I said the words, "I love you" to my grandma or when she said them to me.

What I discovered, through my own thoughts, was that my grandma didn't often use words to show her love. Her love came through her actions.

Like any good Italian, my grandma was always cooking and baking. She made pasta, meatballs, sausage, and more. She baked dozens of cookies. While the running joke was always about how my grandma rationed our food - only two meatballs per person - she put her love into her food. She enjoyed cooking for us. I remember each time we would visit and each care package we received, our favorite cookies were always included. She knew our favorites and made sure we had them.

My grandma started dinner at 4:00 am. At this time in my life, when I don't cook a meal unless I can get it done in less than 30 minutes, I still don't understand why it took so long for her to cook. But, she put her love into the work of preparing her food. It was what she enjoyed doing, for us.

As she got older and lost her sight, she couldn't do those things anymore. We all knew that this would make her crazy, not to be able to bake and cook. But, it wasn't until recently that I realized why it might have been so hard for her. It was not just because she couldn't be active anymore, but because her actions were her love.

When I was a kid, I have few memories of my grandma sitting. She was always doing something. And, consequently, always wanted us to do something. Over the years, though, as her sight declined, my grandma began to talk more. To just sit and share stories of her memories. I was amazed at how much she had to say.

I guess I'm like my grandma in many ways. While I don't share her love for cooking and baking, I do share her passion for showing love through actions. I enjoy buying gifts and sending notes to people. When I have people to my house, I rarely sit until the meal is through. 

This makes me think of the story of Mary and Martha in the book of Luke. Martha is often looked upon negatively because she is working too hard. She doesn't sit at the feet of Jesus and simply enjoy his presence, as her sister Mary does. But, I think they were both showing how much they loved Jesus,  in their own way.

While I am learning to appreciate the moments of stillness, I think I will always be more inclined to show my love by preparing, working and giving. Thanks to my grandma for modeling this so well for me.

I love you, grandma and will miss you.