She Brought Me to My Knees!
We all have had Grandmother’s and there is nothing like them in this whole wide world. This is about mine! Her name was Helen Hagerty and she was born to be my Grandmother.
She was a wonderful soul, a typical Grandmother type, a little rolly poly with a white bun popping out of the top of her dear little head. She had a bible in her hand and a verse in her heart for anyone that would listen.
I went on many of her travels, taking chicken soup and a prayer to all the other little white haired ladies in the small town of Shamokin, Pennsylvania, an eastern coal town. She knew everyone one of those white haired old ladies her whole life. We would go for these many visits and before we would leave, we all got down on our knees and prayed for them.
I remember one time when my two uncles, Bob and Ronnie brought her through our front door very late at night. She was bruised and battered from head to toe. She had a lump on her forehead as big as a goose egg, a black eye and a bloody lip. I thought someone beat the daylights out of her. But all she would say is, “I spilled all the soup.”
That dear old soul was delivering hot soup to a sick friend and fell on the ice. Every bit of the soup was gone and she missed it. Not one complaint did she make about her bruised body and face. NO NOT ONE!
I was only little, but I remember this next event as if it were yesterday. In fact, it is the reason I wrote this story in the first place.
I had a little red cat named Pinky. He was my pride and joy. He came everywhere with me and I dressed him up in my doll’s clothes. He loved it! Or at least I think he did. Well anyway, one day I called for him, he did not come. I looked for him everywhere but couldn’t find him. My Pinky was gone! I waited and waited for him to return. I even walked all over the neighborhood asking everyone if they saw my little red cat. No one did. I was heart broken.
It was a few weeks or so later when my Grandmother said, “Bonnie, if two people pray for something, God will hear that prayer. If it’s in his plan, he will answer it.” Let’s pray. Now Grandma didn’t just start praying, she made sure we knelt down on our knees to pray. So down we went and she started praying. I don’t remember much about her prayer ‘cause I was real little but I do remember her talking about my little red cat, Pinky and asking God to either bring him back or get me a new one. That was the jest of what I understood anyway.
A few weeks went by and Pinky’s mother, Cookie had a new litter of kittens. She had two black ones, three white ones and one little red adorable one. I knew then that my Grandma had a direct line to God and I never doubted her again. God gave me that kitten because he knew Pinky was never coming home. I loved him with all my heart and knew God sent him to me. I was never more sure of anything in my short little life.
I loved my new kitten and I called him Ginger. He and I were buddies and he took over all the clothes I had for Pinky. He wasn’t crazy about the hats but he sure liked the dresses. Gee, I loved that kitten that God gave me. But I really loved my Grandma. I still do!