Happy Birthday, Nanny!

Today would've been my grandmother's 95th birthday. My mom's mother, I called her "Nanny," passed away in 1999. I think of her sometimes, and wonder if I ever really knew the real her. You see, my Nanny had Alzheimer's disease, but it wasn't diagnosed at first. For much of my adolescence, I helped take care of her. She was also diabetic, so I would help give her insulin shots, make food for her, and spend time with her while my mom was working. She was usually fun to be around and enjoyed pretending with me during the early years. Later in life, she didn't feel much like playing. We wound up having to put her in a nursing home and move out of the house we had shared with her. She was usually a pretty amiable person, but the stories she told, the way she acted, I don't know if any of it was her true self. 

Sometimes I think I feel that way about other people, too. They may not have a disease that makes them forget simple things, but we are all inflicted with the disease of sin. I often wonder when I'm talking to someone, "is this who this person really is? Or is this what he/she wants me to see?" How often do we do that ourselves? We hide the ugly parts of ourselves we assume people don't want to see, and in doing so we lose a vital connection that could have been shared.

Many times, what draws people together aren't common interests, but common hurts. We feel a special bond with people who have been through the same things we have. It's cathartic to share stories, compare scars. After all, we weren't meant to walk through this life alone. Sure, this life can be filled with heartache and pain, but the load can be lighter when it is shared with someone else (Eccl. 4:11-13). 

I hope that my Nanny is enjoying herself today. I imagine she is eating rum raisin ice cream in heaven and bragging about her grandchildren. I like to think in the short time I was privileged to know her, I got to know who she really was in the way she cared for those she loved.