Deeker's Message of the Week

Like my grandfather, my grandmother fostered many fine and wonderful memories. Every Thanksgiving (and sometimes on Christmas, too), the flavorful aroma of roasting turkey, mashed potatoes (made from scratch, no less-- we're Idahoans, after all), and fresh-baked rolls would permeate the house and accent the inviting warmth of their modest little home that hosted these and so many other fine occasions. We did go over the river, and if you count the municipal park, I guess you could say we also went through the woods to get to my grandmother's house.

Summertime was also a fantastic time. My grandma made the best iced tea and homemade popsicles in the world, if you ask me. A game of badminton just wasn't the same if it wasn't played in their well-manicured back yard. My grandmother also put a lot of thought and care into the many birthday cakes she had baked and decorated for me and my two sisters. Her pies were extraordinary, too. It was well worth the 30-minute drive to their place just to have lunch with them.

I went to many fun and interesting places with my grandmother who accompanied my grandfather and me on many trips, the most memorable being one to Gold Hill, Oregon, which gave me the opportunity to see Crater Lake, the Redwood trees of northern California, and many other scenic gems of that region. We also took a trip through Idaho's panhandle all the way to the Canadian border, another fantastically scenic drive it was.

My grandmother was more than just about good food, iced tea, birthday cakes and company on scenic drives. She comforted me and entertained me in the times when my mother and father were away. She patiently listened to my silly stories and jokes and at least did a dandy job pretending she thought they were funny, and there was always a spot on her busy refrigerator door for my artwork. She had dealt with my frequent poop accidents just as my mother did and had handled the matter with diapers and multiple underpants. She did it out of necessity, not out of punishment. Having babysat a boy with severe Down's Syndrome, she was no stranger to a boy's poopy butt.

My grandmother touched and enriched the lives of many, many more children in her thirty years as a Sunday school teacher. In turn she touched the lives of some of their own children, many of whom are better people because of her lessons. Most importantly, though, she touched the lives of my mother and her two sisters, whose lifelong skills and morals were founded and established on the loving and nurturing parenting my grandmother (and of course, my grandfather) both provided.

Grandma, you were everything a boy could ever want in a grandmother. I will forever miss you. I am at peace with knowing that after a brief absence, you are once again reunited with the fine man who lived next door to you (albeit down the road a little ways) whom you accepted as your husband back in 1938. Thank you, both, for being the best grandparents in the world. I know God will reward you both richly for your lifelong and unwavering devotions to Him.