My beloved grandmother was born this day 111 years ago. My pseudonym T. Cox is derived from her surnames.
When we reminisce, the one thing my siblings and I agree about is that the happiest days of our childhood were spent at my grandmother’s house.
Grandmommy was fun. She played dress up with us. She recited silly rhymes. She made us sticky buns for breakfast and ice cream sundaes long after bedtime. She bought us needed clothes and unneeded toys.
I remember only one denied request. My sister and I begged Grandmommy to hide us in the attic so we wouldn’t have to go home—an unbearable 200+ miles away. Later, I learned that my younger brother asked the same.
Why did we want to stay? Grandmommy gave us unconditional love and emotional security—vital to our survival during our formative years. She lived Matthew 18:10.
See that you do not despise one of these little ones. For I tell you that in heaven their angels always see the face of my Father who is in heaven.
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