Grandmother Was an Artist

My elegant grandmother, the middle of ten children, was born in 1903. Her father had to clear the land in northern Michigan before he could farm. So, like others from her generation, she needed to quit school after the ninth grade to work the farm. Her favorite subject was math.

As a young adult known for her mouthwatering pies, she moved to Grand Rapids, Michigan to work as a cook for a doctor. At 30, she moved back home and married my grandfather, a small businessman, who owned a confectionery shop, ran a creamery delivery service, and worked as a barber. My grandmother skillfully sewed her clothes by hand and also worked on the side as a seamstress.

Years later after returning back to Grand Rapids, she started knitting mittens to sell at bazaars. These mittens were for a special purpose. Grandma sold them to help children needing mental health services. As a child, I remember seeing a kaleidoscope of colorful balls of yarn in her basket—while delicious smells wafted from her oven. Sometimes she had several knitting and crocheting projects in process. I loved running my fingers over her colorful floral afghans or delicate crochet stitches that swirled into amazing patterns.

While quietly creating these beautiful works, my grandmother often prayed for me. Her faithful prayers carried me through my tumultuous childhood and my parents’ subsequent divorce. Somehow my grandmother’s art and prayers bolstered my creative spirit. And like my grandmother, I later discovered my own artistic spark coupled with the desire to help others.

After being widowed for twenty years, my grandmother finally succumbed to breast cancer, but I still hold her memory dear. Her intricate textiles, artfully displayed in my home, remind me of an industrious woman who served others through the works of her hands. My grandmother was an artist, and her art brought warmth, love, and comfort to many in need.