90 for 90 | In honor of Grandma Gladish’s 90th Birthday

There was a beaver dam near the Beaver Island house, we walked up there as many times as it took to get a glimpse of this creature who’s teeth made such interesting marks on the wood chips scattered by the felled saplings.
Grandma came out when most of the babies were born. She understood the important role of the big sister and would help me as I helped to hold and diaper and care for the newest addition.
Years of family dinner, rotating around, at Grandma’s house you could always count on a cake for dessert. Applesauce walnut and the various fruit upside-down cakes were favorites.
The winter Grandma and Grandpa lived in the little yellow cabin down the road from us and Grandma gave me homeschool lessons once a week or so. I don’t remember the lessons, but I remember how she made hot lemonade with honey when we both had colds.
Making sand cakes on the shores of Lake Michigan, complete with sumac berry decorations and tiny twig candles.
Growing up surrounded by Libertarians, Grandma gently showed me that it was okay to be a liberal democrat and to have a different view on things.
The Atlantic magazine was often on the coffee table and NPR playing. As a young adult I was delighted to find that Grandma was always up on current events and had something wise and interesting to say in response to them, offering me a unique perspective on whatever was going on in the world.
When Grandma was in the hospital last spring, after a stroke and heart attack, we wondered if that was the end.
When she went back into hospital a few weeks later, I got on a plane. I’m so grateful for that week spent together.
The time in the ICU was particularly precious, as I sat by her bedside and she napped, then would wake up and tell stories and keep telling us how much her family means to her.
Her time in rehab was difficult, for her primarily of course, and for all of those of us who love her. I felt a zeal for assuring she got the best care possible, while working through my own feelings of fear and annoyance and love.
Every phone call with Grandma is a sweet gift these days.
When we get on the phone, before I can even tell her about something that’s going on, she’ll ask about it. Because she’s already seen the post on Facebook and remembers to ask more.
Grandma knows how to actively and appropriately engage social media better than most people half her age and even though her hands can’t type much anymore, she stays up to date with all of us.
Mom told me recently that Grandma said, “I’m wishing and praying for a man to come along for Anna who just loves her and nurtures her and can be a real partner with her in her big life.”
Grandma’s knowledge and wisdom of faith and life have been a consistent foundation.
When I came to visit while I was in undergrad and later on seminary and in general, I could always count on a good theological conversation buddy and she would connect things and open my eyes in new ways.
When it became clear that it was time for me to resign from the General Church, I called Grandma a bit teary, worried that she was going to be sad and disappointed. Instead I heard on the other end of the phone, “Of course you do, that’s alright dear, the Lord’s church is so much bigger than any one organization.”
She went on to tell me how all four of my grandparents, as well as my great grandparents would be so proud of me and delighted that I’m committed to continuing and working for the new iteration of this tradition that they had dedicated their lives to.
When Grandpa died suddenly in 1996 I remember wondering at Grandma’s seeming calm. I have seen that calm last over the last 20 years, not because she didn’t grieve, but because of her active deep knowing of their ongoing spiritual connection and plans to be together for eternity.
In the kitchen of all of Grandma and Grandpa’s winter homes on Guemes, there was always the set of poetry magnets for the fridge. It appeared to be an ongoing silent play between them, moving and shifting words to make witty bizarre statements, clever observations, and pithy poetry.
Once, when I was about eight years old and Grandma was visiting, my parents were deep in an argument. Grandma took me on a walk and as we were walking she said, “Anna, it’s not your fault that they’re fighting.” I didn’t quite believe her at the time, but I never forgot her powerful words.
After we outgrew the beautifully crafted dolls, knit penguins and corduroy bears, you could always count on Grandma for a gift that helped the world. Heifer project goats or a piece of an Amazon rainforest saved, expanding our ideas of what it means to give and receive in the world.
Grandma has always been a painter, or since well before I knew her. Her nature watercolors bring alive the shell, the ocean, the single flower, the burst of life.
Classical music. Often playing.
Gardens, she always had a garden. From the big vegetable garden on Beaver Island, to the pots on the front porch wherever she’s lived. Growing things surround her.
For years Grandma had regular tea with a few other women of a similar age on the island. Because community is important.
A staunch feminist, she taught me to value all people, including myself.
On a long conversation as I was walking along the cliffs recently we mutually shared our questions and wonderings about who to vote for in the primary elections coming up.
When I was a teen I don’t think I really appreciated Grandma. I’m grateful she stuck it out and kept loving me until I could again.
Grandma’s delight in my ministry keeps me going.
I don’t have to explain why we are re-imagining church to Grandma; she gets it and has been in this mindset for years.
When we have tea, there are always beautiful china teacups available.
Grandma has spent hours and months, days and years getting all the family photos scanned and organizing and writing notes to pass the history on to the family.
Grandma tells stories about going to elementary school in the basement of the Bryn Athyn Cathedral when the school building had burnt down and exploring around the stone pillars and stained glass.
She tells how she was in college during WWII and with all the young men off to the war; there was a powerhouse team of brilliant woman who were given space to shine. This cohort is powerful and strong to this day, even as they send each other off to the afterlife one-by-one.
Paint brushes.
Earl Gray tea bags.
Spider plants.
I always loved that my two sets of grandparents knew and appreciated each other.
Grandma often confidently gives affirmation on behalf of the three grandparents who have died, as well as herself. “We’re all proud of you.”
Until recently, Grandma was competently driving her old red car wherever she needed to go.
I found out when she went into the hospital that she was totally organized, all her paper in place and even passwords and such written down in one place.
Watching Grandma surrender to being in charge of it all and lean on her children and grandchildren and professionals was powerful, painful, beautiful and profound.
On our big Opening Planting Day at the Garden Church, my sister Rose set it up so I could Facetime with Grandma from the ICU and she could see a bit of the celebration.
She always has a good read on all of us, her children and grandchildren, and knows what’s going on in each of our lives.
When she was a little grumpy at me at the end of a long hard day after moving into the rehab facility, she realized what she had done and lovingly apologized in the morning.
Columbines on the front porch.
She’s said for a while now that she’s ready to die when it’s time, but it seems God wants her to stick around a bit longer.
Last spring I prepared myself to be ready to let go, for her sake, if it was time for her to go, but I’m so glad for each day she’s still with us and I cherish the connections.
I secretly hope she’ll live long enough to meet the man I’m going to spend my life with. But if not she’s committed that one of her first tasks as an angel will be to nudge along that process.
When we all gathered around her last summer it felt so right. Honoring this woman who has given so much.
It’s strange not to be all together for her 90^th birthday, but it’s also a reminder of how we all want to love her and appreciate her everyday.
When I was 8 or so Grandma was visiting and somehow the idea of an Autograph Album came up. Oh, it was straight out of Laura Ingles Wilder I do believe. Grandma totally got into it with me and we made a special Autograph Album which I proceeded to carry with me for a number of years after that, getting autographs from baseball players, famous ballet dancers, family, friends, musicians and even a special drawing autograph from the children’s author Peter Spier’s.
Grandma wrote: “December 1990 I like talking with you and finding out what is going on in your life. You are very dear and special! Lots of love, Grandma G.”
Grandma saw me, and sees me.
Grandma saw each of us grandchildren as individuals with our own lives and interests and stories.
For years she and Grandpa, and then after Grandpa died with other helpers, she worked on editing the New Century Edition of the theological writings of Emanuel Swedenborg.
She was one of the most well read Swedenborgians I know, a lifetime of study and devotion.
Grandma never seemed afraid of the future and progress, always putting it in the context of history with a hopeful look to the future.
Knit sweaters gave way to fleece pullovers.
Watching the frustration and patience as she has become less able to use her hands and feet in recent years.
Always inquisitive.
Continually learning.
Always.
Committed to her religious tradition, while living and moving and being expansively outside it for much of her life.
People still tell me how she was one of their favorite elementary school teachers.
Years and years of scrabble.
We can talk for hours.
When we visited on Beaver Island when I was six and Louis was two there was a giant torrential rainstorm, novel for us Pacific North West kids who were used to constant drizzle. We were freed to go run outside, dig streams in the driveway and get completely and joyfully soaked.
Wherever she lived, even when it was just winters on Guemes Island, Grandma always made it home.
She always had cool photo calendars.
The Coo-coo Clock! We can’t forget the Coo-coo clock!
She was/is very careful with money and somehow makes it last.
When I was in my second year at Bryn Athyn College she visited and it was amazing to see the town through her eyes.
She showed me the house she grew up in, with one set of grandparents next door and the other behind and kitty-corner.
She described the building that was now student housing where I was living as the stable and carriage house for the large estate that was still active when she was a child.
We went to lunch with her old friend Miss Mary Lou and I realized Grandma had been young too once.
When I talked to her this morning for her birthday, she said, “It wasn’t my aspiration to be 90, but here we are.”
We talked about all sorts of things, including tips on the lemon meringue pie I plan to make this afternoon. “I don’t know that I’ve ever made one, but I know they talk about how it’s important to spread the meringue all the way to the edge” she helpfully shared.
I shared the real things going on in my life and she was as present and interested and hopeful and engaged as I am.
She gave me her regular reminder that I “can’t do everything, for everyone, all the time” and reiterated her Lenten challenge for me, “to rest.”
When I asked her what she’s learned in her 90 years she said, “I’m still learning. I’ve learned a lot of stuff, but I’m looking forward to learning more.”
She went on to share her wisdom about how life has seasons or stages, “not always exactly what you want them to be, but they are there for good reasons.”
She then gave her wisdom on life: “Learn patience, and not to try to do the whole world yourself, and try not to hurt people.
Give expressions of love and tell people how grateful you are for them.
And step back, it’s all in the Lord’s hands.”
Grandma, we are the luckiest to have you in our lives. Thank you for all 90 of your years and being a role model, an inspiration, a constant support, a cheerleader, a wise sage, a friend and my grandma.
I love you.
Happy 90^th Birthday!