Thinking about Grandmother

I thought a lot about my grandmother today while preparing the last minute items for a lunch engagement right after church.

I grated cheese and sliced two fingers and the base of my hand discovering why they had a guard on it when I bought it. A guard that got melted on the toaster oven the night I brought it home. I found it is much easier to get plastic off the top and front of a toaster oven if it is hot. But this post isn’t really about my misfortunes in the kitchen.

I was the oldest grandchild and got to see my grandmother while she was a mother in action. My uncle is a year and a half older than I. She used Clorox in the bathroom and in the kitchen to disinfect everything. I’ve been thinking about her as I use a sink without running hot water wondering if I should use Clorox in my dishpan too. I watched my grandmother patch up injuries using a butterfly bandage, and then from my observations of her, patched up my brother one day while I was babysitting.

I’ve been thinking about Grandmother Conover a lot because she also went to foreign lands and served 4 missions with my grandfather as well as going on a mission as a single sister. I don’t know how much we have in common other than a love for babies and going on missions because she was just there for me as a child and I didn’t think about her and what her thoughts and ideals were. Now I wonder what she felt but now I can’t talk to her.

I know she was vitally concerned with our welfare, health and loved us very much.  She would march us all into the kitchen and put us on chairs or stools and we would “help” make dinner. I grated carrots (losing some flesh in that process too) and peeled potatoes and ‘mixed’ powdered milk up with an eggbeater. Now that is something my kids have missed altogether – too bad. It was a lot of fun to make but kind of terrible to drink. She liked to try new things and seemed to always be working on something. I don’t remember her just sitting, or watching. She was always busy. She was awake when I went to bed, there for us in the night and always awake and busy when we woke up.

I watched her one-day curl her hair in pin curls. She had my little brother hand her the bobby pins one at a time saying please and thank-you with each one. Then used the same process while taking them all out. Donald came home from that trip acting like a little gentleman in a very mannerly style.

I wonder sometimes what she thinks about me now while I’m on this mission. I like to imagine that she is near -  helping me out every once in awhile when I ask God’s help on little things.  I think about her and hope I can be a little like her.