I have fond memories of both my grandmothers.  In fact I can even remember my great grandmother and some of the things she impressed on me in my youth.

Today, grandmas have changed quite a bit.  Most of them still work well into their sixties and beyond.  Although most grandmas from the old days, worked hard right up until their dying days as well.  They didn’t have cleaning ladies or people who would bring meals to their door.  They continued cooking, washing windows and scrubbing floors even though their aging bodies had long since lost the battle of gravity.

Today, grandmas still offer a stellar amount of benefits to their grandchildren – just like mine did.  I’d often visit my paternal grandma after working my part time job in downtown Milwaukee.  She lived in an apartment on Wisconsin Avenue, and I loved getting into the rickety old elevator and praying that I’d make it to the third floor.  The inside of her building reminded me of Tammany Hall in the movie Gangs of New York.  It was indeed scary, but as soon as grandma opened the door to her apartment, the most amazing smells emanated out into the grungy hallway, inviting me in.  Once inside, I was greeted with some wonderfully, fresh baked item and would sit on the handmade afghan laden couch and we’d visit – just talk for a while – and it was wonderful.  This grandma worked right up to her retirement, and found joy in her remaining years, away from the sounds of the city to place up north.  There was still nothing like her downtown apartment though.

My maternal grandmother was a hard working farm woman, who made her way through her childhood gathering buffalo chips for fuel and cutting wood for the fire.  She was strong in more ways than one.  I don’t recall her having any lack of strength, even into her 70s.  I do remember spending summers with her on the farm.  I recall a large metal cabinet she had right outside the newly installed bathroom.  It was loaded with medicine of every kind known to man – everything from snake oil to mustard plasters were part of her medicine cabinet.  She’d help me cut out pictures from the Sears Catalog and make them into paper dolls.  I’d sneak a peek at her romance magazines, which were “hidden” from view.  She’d come in to pray with me each night and there were times I didn’t recognize her.  She’d often have her hair in curlers, her teeth were in a jar in the bathroom, and the weathered, wobbly skin on her arms shook as she walked.  But those arms were always open and ready for hugs.

Today some grandmas treat themselves to fun vacations or go to the spa and receive massages and cellulite injections.  Many are even sporting braces these days.  We have access to better health care.  We can go to the gym, if we decide to.  Yet, when you get right down to it, we’re still grandmas.  We love our grandchildren and would do just about anything for them.  We will always have our arms open for hugs and even if those arms wobble, they’re full of love.





As I reach the end of my years, I find I have a lot of good information stored up in this old decrepit mind of mine. If I don't write it all down, it may vanish and no one will have the advantage of my thoughts. This is why this blog exists. I love the Lord, Jesus with all my heart and soul. I know I'm undeserving of all He's done for me, but I also know that His love is beyond my comprehension. I've always wanted to write. I never kept diaries, but tucked my thoughts in my head for future reference. I use them now in creating stories, plays, poetry and my blog. I continue to learn every day. I believe the compilation of our time spent with God will have huge affect on the way we live. I know I'm a sinner and I need a Savior. I have One through Jesus, Christ. My book, "Stages - a memoir," is about the seven stages of life from the perspective of a woman. It addresses all the things girls and women go through in life as they travel it with Jesus, and it is available on
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14 Responses to GRANDMA’S ARMS

  1. Love this!!!! My maternal grandmother raised me, and she left us in ’96. I’m still close to my mom and dad, but no one can replace grandma’s love.

    Liked by 1 person

  2. Salvageable says:

    I grew up next door to my mother’s parents. My father’s parents lived 200 miles away, but we visited them a few times a year. Naturally, I knew my mother’s mother better than I knew my father’s mother, but they were both very special people. J.

    Liked by 1 person

    • says:

      So many great memories of time shared with them. Hope my grandchildren are e storing up some good ones for themselves.


  3. Wally Fry says:

    I still miss mine a lot. She made it to 106 before the Lord called her home. I was her favorite, and she had bunch. Towards the end, when she didn’t really know anybody much I went to see her. They all warned me to not be disappointed, as she would not remember me. The minute I walked in the room and said, “Hey Momma Mae” All the way from that bed she said, “It’s my little Wallyyyyyyyyyy.” Of course, she thought i was literally the little me, even though I was probably 30 at the time. I had to tell her all about school and stuff. But, it was better than nothing.

    Liked by 1 person

  4. says:

    What a blessing for both of you.


  5. believe4147 says:

    There is just something special about being a grandma…it must be the hugs and never having to scold…that’s the difference between parenting and grandparenting…the fun without the full responsibility.

    Liked by 1 person

  6. Grandmas are so special. I wonder if it is because they seem to have time to marvel over the things that children marvel over…like rocks, bugs and wondering at how God made all those stars.
    I know for me, being a grandma is kind of a do over. I get to do all those things with my grandkids that as a mom I wished I had made time for.

    Liked by 1 person

  7. Love the title. We have a grandmother, on both sides of family who held their grandchildren.

    Liked by 1 person

  8. What beautiful memories, Kathy! I love this! You have created some unforgettable word pictures here… and your post has brought back so many memories of lovely sights and smells for me. I never knew my paternal grandmother since she died before I was born…but my maternal grandmother was much as you describe… and she was always making afghans. I have a blanket chest or two filled with Grandma’s afghans. 🙂 ❤ and hugs!

    Liked by 1 person

    • says:

      My senses are often aroused when I recall some of my early childhood memories. Especially when it came to some yummy food. I guess that tells a lot about me.


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