Remembering is a gift. A precious gift that allows us to relive the joy of yesterday, cherish today, and yearn for a more perfect tomorrow.
I remember a woman who loved pink. A woman who loved her husband, family and friends deeply. A woman whose front door – painted pink – was never locked. She lived hospitality, and her freezer always had enough strawberry and toasted almond ice cream for each person to have a cone.
She loved dolls.
She took pictures – lots of pictures – of her family and friends. She made those pictures into cards, which she sent to them for Christmas, Valentine’s Day, Easter, their birthdays, or just because.
She loved flowers, pink things, delicate and beautiful things, but most of all she loved her God.
“Grandma” Patterson died on Sunday morning, was buried on Thursday, and her memorial service is Saturday.
I remember a woman who taught me how to make coconut-oatmeal cookies, as well as the art of offering them as refreshments to men whose hands were so grimy from working that there was no skin visible.
She and her husband were married for 59 1/2 years, glorious years that bear testimony to a gracious God and a loving humility.