Whenever someone asks me to choose a seat,
I always choose the rocking chair.
When I am sick,
The memory of that rocking chair comforts me.
When Advent is just qround the corner,
The rocking chair moves my heart.
Because when Grandma rocked me on her lap,
I was filled with hope.
I was consoled and I sang of Christmas.
In the corner of the kitchen, along a rough red brick wall, the light shone through a single wall window upon her polished rocking chair, covered with a brown cushion on the back and the seat. She - my grandmother with the thin face - always had her white apron tied around her waist. Over the course of the seasons, the white one, the yellow one, the green one and the russet-red, always she warmed us, nurtured our hope, cheered us up, and provided continuity without interfering in our relationships with our parents. There were two humble tools in the service of her gracious wisdom: a rocking chair to calm us, an apron fragrant with happiness, and a heart always ready to listen. Stripped of any pretension, sometimes drying her worried eyes with the end of her apron, and blaming the "smell of the onions," she taught us in a few words to weave life with patience and to tend to our flowers... and in her eyes, that's what we were.
Where did she get this enormous treasure, this outlook that was so refreshing? From the many years she lived in the village of L'Assomption? From her solid, unbreakable faith in God, through whatever challenges she endured? Undoubtedly, it was a little of all that. It was an era lived at a snail's pace, that animal that takes its time to explore the underbrush and which nourishes itself along the way. It was a slower time that believed in the ordinary and in which it was possible to live without being becoming frenzied.
We live in an age of speed, of modernity, of efficiency and productivity. What would my grandmother Melanie, now deceased, make of all this? I don't know, but I do know that she has given me a little taste for it when I rock my grandchildren, rocking to soothe them, restoring the calm, taking the time to comfort them, exploring what seems inconsequential to discover what's really important. Never to shatter their illusions, to take the time with them to share in their disappointment, failure or uncertainty, observing how Life is unfolding. In our world where parents are often overwhelmed by the rat race, this "activity" requires time... that is something that grandparents usually have. Indeed!
I can also say that she gives me a taste for it when I tie on a nice big apron, big enough to fill their faces with happiness and hope, to gather with them the necessities for their growth: perseverance in the blinding snow; self-respect to pick themselves up after having fallen; wonder at the unique beauty of their lives and nature, as the aroma of a roast fills the house; silence which allows us to hear the red leaves as well as the snowflakes fall and which gives the wind of the Spirit the chance to reveal itself. Here too, time is necessary; here too, grandparents have a beautiful role to play: to nurture, to bring a spirit of inner peace, to simply breathe in happiness.
Lastly, she gives me a taste for listening to them in her way. It is difficult to listen, to be open and to accept them without wanting to change them, without pressuring them, without looking to win them over. Listening to our grandsons or granddaughters, walking with them, accompanying them freely, being there for them when they want us, knowing when to have the confidence to let them be, because they have been steeped in love.To listen to our grandchildren while being aware that they have parents who love them too. To listen, to let them benefit from our experience without directing them in order to assure the continuity of the greatness of Life, from them, their family, and their country.
In her day, my grandmother knew how to rock us, my sister and me, and to wrap us in her warm and fragrant apron without replacing our parents, by being neither too strict nor lenient. Because she lived in our home, I saw her crying, suffering, and laughing very hard. I felt her, I believed in her. I never compared the reach of her long arms that hugged me with those of my mom. What I'm thankful for is the time and patience which she cultivated in us, when it was required, which my parents had sown. And that remains even more relevant in a time when parents are shaken up by a hectic pace in life.
WHAT ABOUT ME IN ALL THIS?
Given that the pace of life of children in the twentyfirst century is influenced by noise, violence in the movies and television, the growing numbers of activities after school and on the weekend, and concerns about the instability of family and society, what can grandparents contribute to restore calm, relaxation and confidence in their grandchildren?
"All talk and no action," so the saying goes. "To preach by example, "is another often-heard phrase. How can grandparents begin to encourage a sense of perseverance, self-respect, wonder, and inner peace in their grandchildren
How can grandparents, while avoiding being nuisances and moralizers, "enlighten" their grandchildren who experience disappointments and failures, who compare themselves to others, and who are worried about certain realities of life?
André Gadbois
MIC Mission News - April-May-June 2005