Grandma Henson

So I’m waiting around at church between our morning handbell rehearsal and the service and I’m glancing through the order of service and noticing that there is an announcement for Christmas Poinsettias. The next thought I have is about my Grandma Henson. And I want to make a donation for a poinsettia in her name. And tears come to my eyes. And they’re tears of joy. And they’re tears of sorrow. And I realize how much I miss her. How much I miss her strength. How much I miss her ability to cut through family bullshit with grace. How much I miss her unconditional love. How much I miss her nurturing.

How much I miss her.

I see a lot of her in me. It makes me sad that she wasn’t able to see the young man I’ve become. I’d think she’d be comforted by the fact that I’ve found myself a spiritual community to be a part of.

I often wonder if she is here in some way.