It seems like our house has always been in transition between trying to sell it and having people live in our basement, so there are things that have stayed in boxes and we are continually moving them to a different room. We’ve settled in enough now that the only place left as a dump zone was my craft room.
The room that has been a craft room for a year. I’ve slowly been cleaning it up and mostly organizing keepsakes, etc.
In doing this organizing I’ve been finding a lot of things from my childhood that for some reason I was compelled to keep. Most things have gone to the trash but there have been a few treasures.
One of those now is displayed on my bulletin board in my craft room.
Take a look:
This is a letter from my paternal grandmother. Just in case you can’t read it, it says:
I want you to know how much I love you, and I ask your forgiveness for my outburst on Saturday about the Prom. I know that what I said was out of place, and I’m sorry. I know you love Jesus and try to live for Him, just as all of us try to do.
Grandpa and I pray for you and all of our grandchildren every day. We know Jesus will guide you in the way He wants you to go.
Lots of love,
There are many reasons I kept this letter. For me, this slip of paper shows how generations try to interact with and understand each other. It was my sophomore year in high school and I was going to the Prom for the first time. My parents and I had already come to an understanding on how we would handle my attendance at high school dances- especially from a church background where dancing just didn’t happen.
When I went to talk to my Grandma about it, I didn’t think she would be so opinionated about it (I think I forgot who I was talking to!). She gave be a big lecture about how good Christians don’t go to dances and how in her youth they would have organized and alternative activity.
I looked right back at her and told her that good Christians in my day go to dances. I think I left after that because all I remember is that about a week later my parents handed this letter to me.
I think from that moment my grandma and I were even better friends than we were before. She understood that things didn’t have to go the way they did in her day for me to be a strong Christian and a good person. And, it was one of the times that I can remember an adult apologizing to me.
My junior year, my prom picture was proudly displayed in their room.