A Grandmother's Faith

I can count on two hands how many times in my life I’ve spent with my grandmother.  Growing up times were tough and living in a different state didn’t make seeing her easy.  But even though I’ve had so little time with her in my thirty-seven years, I feel so deeply connected to her because of our paths in life and how similar the roads we have walked are.  

I’ve been trying to find the words for this image and the one thing I keep hearing is faith.  I’ll never forget this day over the summer, when my grandmother and I sat at her kitchen table and she proudly showed me her rosaries.  I suppose after her eighty-eight years, her faith is what has kept her going all this time.  It carried her through the loss of a marriage after almost a decade due to infidelity, becoming a single mama until the day she met and married my grandfather.  I can imagine her faith is what calmed her fears and anxiety and wiped her tears after a hard day.  I know her faith is what saw her through the loss of my grandfather a few years ago too.  And it continues to give her strength to love those well around her.  


But in this moment, her words gave me a glimpse into what having years of faith can bring.  A life well lived.  A life full of joy despite the loss and heartache that is bound to happen.  A life full of wonderful, genuine moments surrounded by people we love.  Her words were a reminder to keep my faith alive despite the destruction that tends to find me.  Fatih can move mountains and her life is full of mountains that have moved.

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