Wonder of Wonders, Miracle of Miracles

Last night I was able to accomplish something I had not been able to do in all my 30 years on this planet. I was able to visit my Nana without eating ice cream. I know those of you who do not know my Nana are thinking, really, that is a big wonder, some fantastic miracle? And those of you who know my Nana or have her as your Nana will be calling me for my secret. Nana, Nana. Just thought I'd write it a few more times. But to sum it up best, I just never gave up hope. She is the funniest woman in the world. Not that she is telling jokes and wanting to make you laugh, she just is funny. As long as I can remember, there has always been ice cream in her freezer. You go and visit, you may get away with it for a while, but eventually, she will say, "How about some ice cream." To which, you could reply any number of things, but the result will be you eating more than you had planned. I remember talking to my friend at work and telling her that I cannot say "no" to my Nana. She said, "You are an adult, that is rediculous!" To which I responded, you just don't know my Nana. She just wants to make sure you have had enough to eat. When I call and ask to come and visit, she says sure, and the next thing out of her mouth is what she can offer me for dinner. And if it would happen to be soup, or grilled cheese, or cereal, well she apologizes and says it will hold you until you eat right. Which when my grandfather said it, was a joke, but she is being serious. Saturday I had been there and brought her a small loaf of banana bread my mother had made for her. She saved some of it for yesterday. If you have had my mother's banana bread you know the discipline not to eat it all in one sitting let alone save it for a possible guest four days later. She offered it to me which I could not say no to because she had saved it for me. You see, she is thoughtful to the point that it makes you feel guilty if you refuse it. And so while her ice cream just sat in the freezer, the banana bread was a different story. She told me that when I left Saturday she felt badly that she did not offer me the banana bread that night. I said Nana it is for you, don't worry, I never leave here hungry. Full and a little queezy sometimes, but never hungry. She said I always think of what else I could have offered, I just don't think of it at the time and then I feel badly. And that is when it hit me. The devil is a big freakin' jerk. Here is my Nana, she is going to be 87 next month. She has raised three children, helped nuture ten grandchildren and twelve great-grandchildren, tirelessly cared for her ailing husband, and still she has insecurities about not doing or giving enough. She does too much really. One time I was over and she offered me a peach, I started to peel it and she was so upset she didn't do it for me. I said, I can do it, it is no problem. Well, you who know her, know she peeled it. The woman has arthritis, she has a shoulder out of socket, and has osteoporosis, but she does everything she possibly can. But Satan knows our weaknesses and he digs in deep. I know I have conversations with myself after parties or discussions or small group wondering if that was taken the wrong way, "I hope they didn't think I meant that!" Or my mom who is fantastic at menus and baking and getting things together for pot lucks and banguets. She is mulling over menus for weeks, trying things out, then once the occasion is here she hopes the people enjoy it and wants to know if everyone liked it. The answer is always yes. Still we wonder, we worry, we become second guessers. I think maybe too we worry about what people think of us too much.