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.
_
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_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._