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Tag Archives: Grandchildren

My.Daily.Distraction ~ Post 103: Grandmother’s Ice Cream Money

02 Monday Feb 2015

Posted by duckykoren in Food, God, Heaven, Ice Cream, Money, Stories

≈ 1 Comment

Tags

Aunt, blogs, Cousins, Double Dip, God, Grandchildren, grandfathers, Grandmothers, Heaven, ice cream, Ice Cream Cone, love, money, Treats, True Story, Writing

I loved my Grandmother very much.

She knew instinctively what it took to make her grandchildren happy.

Ice cream was one of those ways.

When I was a little girl, she would quietly take aside, look around to see if anyone was watching, and then carefully slip some money into the palm of my hand. Then she would whisper to ensure that no one would hear…

“This is for ice cream…”

…Don’t tell your Grandfather.”

With an obeying nod, I solemnly gave her my promise.

I’m sure my cousins share these same memories…

Yes, we loved ice cream, but Grandmother loved ice cream even more.

My Aunt once shared with me that when Grandmother came to visit the family for several weeks, she always left a little rounder than when she first arrived. I have no doubt that this stemmed from sharing her love of ice cream with all of her grandchildren.

So, now that she is no longer with us and has been taken up to heaven, I cannot help but wonder if she is in any way able to get a double dip.

As Christians, we were always taught that “God will provide.” Some would say that God will provide us with our needs.

Well, I know for a fact that for my Grandmother ice cream was a necessity.

So, when I get to heaven, I fully expect her to immediately take me quietly aside.

Then, like before, she will carefully slip some money into the palm of my hand and whisper:

“This is for ice cream…

…Don’t tell God!”

My.Daily.Distraction ~ Post 64: Give Us This Day A Well Behaved Child

18 Thursday Dec 2014

Posted by duckykoren in Behaviour, Children, Family, Prayer, Stories, Writing

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Tags

Airport, behaviour, Children, Church, Dinner, Germany, Glasses, Grandchildren, Kitchen, love, Mother, Potato Salad, Prayer, Toronto, visiting, Wheat

It was a very cold day in January 1965 when my Mother and I took off in an airplane from the Toronto airport to visit my Grandparents in Germany.

I was five years old.

My Mother stayed in Germany for two weeks and then flew home. However, I was to stay with my Grandparents for three months.

They were both very loving, patient and I knew that they loved me.

In my lifetime, they never spoke a word to me in anger.

Ever.

However, there was one day when I had the impression that I was being a little more rambunctious than usual and that my Grandparent’s were doing their best to be patient with me.

At the end of a long day I remember arriving back at their home later than usual after being out visiting.

My Grandfather…

(Or “Opa” as he was called by all of his Grandchildren)

…was the Minister of the local Baptist Church.

He, my Grandmother and I had spent the day visiting with the elderly and confined.

It was already getting dark outside and my Grandmother felt negligent because it was already well past dinnertime.

As my Grandmother went to the kitchen to start preparing dinner I followed along.

A few minutes later, my Grandfather came into the kitchen and sat down at the kitchen table with his newspaper.

My Grandmother had decided to prepare cream of wheat for dinner.

In German, we called it “Griesbrei.”

It was not unusual to serve cream of wheat for dinner. Customarily, it was served onto a regular dinner plate, and then sprinkled with cinnamon and sugar.

I considered it ambrosia.

Oma (my Grandmother) had the water simmering in a pot on the stove as I stood by her side and watched as she poured ingredients into the pot.

I must have been been talking up a storm because something I said seemed to have flustered her.

Next thing I knew she let out a little frustrated cry as she realized she had poured too much salt into the simmering water.

Forlornly, she immediately dumped the entire contents of the pot into her kitchen sink.

Opa, sensing her frustration took immediate charge of the situation.

He calmly asked her to stop what she was doing and to join him at the kitchen table.

She immediately obliged.

Then, he looked at me from over his glasses and told me to sit down at the table as well.

Here comes trouble, I thought to myself.

What is he going to do?

After I sat down my Grandfather asked my Grandmother and myself to bow our heads in prayer.

We did as he asked.

He then did the same.

Then he began to pray in a quiet and loving voice:

“Dear God…” he began his prayer sincerely.

“Please make tomorrow a better day.”

“Amen.”

In closing…

Our final meal of the day was leftover potato salad.

It was delicious.

And yes, the following day was a better day for everyone.

As was every day after that as well….

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

My.Daily.Distraction ~ Post 14: My Father’s Greatest Struggle

13 Thursday Nov 2014

Posted by duckykoren in Family, Stories

≈ 1 Comment

Tags

blogs, Children, Family, Friends, Grandchildren, grandfathers, Hardships, Mail, Post Office, Stories

My Father started working at the post office in 1971.

I began working there in 1988.

Before I began to work at Canada Post my children were very young.

Father and I would often go out shopping about town with his Grandchildren in tow.

Of course, while combing through the streets and shops pushing around the baby buggies, we never failed to meet up with his various friends and coworkers.

What I didn’t quite understand was his comment that followed every time he introduced the Grandchildren to his friends.

He would always say to his friends:

“There is nothing harder than becoming a Grandfather!”

Eventually I took it upon myself to ask him what he meant by this strange statement.

For the life of me I could not think of anything hard about becoming a Grandfather.

And so finally I asked my Father the following question:

“Why do you always tell people that there’s nothing harder than becoming a Grandfather?”

With a cold and steely glare, he looked me straight in the eye and said:

“Well…

…I had to raise you first, didn’t I?”

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