Last weekend, our family went to out-of-state to celebrate my Grandmother’s 90th birthday.
Grandma Lola is sure special to me. She has always been just what I thought a grandma should be like. When I was growing up, she made all my Sunday dresses exactly like I wanted them and had my favorite cookies ready for me every Sunday afternoon. (I don’t think I’m the only one that loves her cookies – but I’m the baby of the family so I assumed they were for me.)
One week during the summer, I would stay with Grandma Lola. Every night I would climb into bed with her and listen to her pray. In her prayers, she would name every one of her children and grandchildren by name – every night – every year I stayed with her. I loved to listen to her pray. I loved how it just felt like Jesus was right there in the room with us when she prayed, because she always talked to him like he was right there.
While she was visiting last spring, I came downstairs early in the morning and accidentally heard her praying. I didn’t stay long enough to hear her words, but I certainly was filled with the same feeling I had as a little girl. I love the way my Grandma prays. I want more of that – I want that close and sweet relationship with the Lord. I want my kids to know – to really know – that I am praying for them and that He hears my prayers.
Me with Grandma
