/ Barry York

My Nanny

They say the best gifts come in small packages.

Such was my Nanny.

A picture of a gangly teenager, arm outstretched,

Shows Nanny standing under it, smiling up at me.

_Yet her soul was so much larger than mine.

_When we were kids, my brother and I would spend weekends in her tiny house._  
_Nanny worked magic there._  
_Bitter coffee was made sweet with liberal doses of her milk and sugar._  
_Thread-less spools, dipped in dish soap, became backyard bubble blowers._  
_Empty bread bags, wet paper towels knotted inside, turned into comets _  
_As tails were twirled and thrown upward into the sky._  
_Yet her magic could not keep a grandson_  
_From feigning illness, to avoid going to the church she loved;_  
_Revealing a true sickness of heart.  
_For many years she a widow was._  
_But Nanny, also once an orphan, never turned inward._  
_Grandsons were dutifully sent to visit Dolly, her neighbor dwarf friend, _  
_Whose chocolate bars could not overcome childish fears of her snipping, toothless Chihuahua._  
_Betty, a widow also, always at the bountiful table during holidays, as were others;_  
_Nanny making sure no one was lonely at festive times._  
_Her eccentric sister, Libby, with funny wigs and long, fake fingernails,_  
_Always welcomed from her wanderings, no matter the strain on her hostess._  
_Though never expressed, inwardly I resented these intrusions,_  
_Never seeing their reflection of my own little mind, lonely heart, and lying ways._  
_ _~~~~~~~~~~  
 _Away from home and restraint, life became wild – too wild - for me at college._  
_Yet Nanny never stopped loving me._  
_Her handwritten letters bearing testimony to Jesus,_  
_Ending with the puzzling phrase, “My grace is sufficient for thee,”_  
_Next to the apology, “Excuse my chicken scratch.” _  
_My mind had no problem reading the words._  
_But it was too dark with worldly longings to comprehend them._  
_~~~~~~~~~~ _  
_Yet in the midst of it all, Jesus came to me!_  
_Nanny’s prayers called Him to my rescue!_  
_Those last visits before she went to be with Him,_  
_Oh, more magical than ever,_  
_Sweeter than her Christmas pies._  
_For at her table sat not only lonely widow and strange sister,_  
_But undeserving grandson,_  
_With grace experienced,_  
_ Sufficient and abounding._
Barry York

Barry York

Sinner by Nature - Saved by Grace. Husband of Miriam - Grateful for Privilege. Father of Six - Blessed by God. President of RPTS - Serve with Thankfulness. Author - Hitting the Marks.

Read More