A Great Concern.

My Grandma Johnson was a very strong woman in every sense of the word.

Deeply rooted in her faith, sturdy in physique, able to mentally, physically, emotionally, or spiritually take on just about anything that came her way, and not one to succumb to even the slightest cold.

(Seriously. I'm not sure if it was the Vicks salve she used each night before bed or the hymns she lifted up to Heaven with her sweet alto voice every day, but the woman never went to the hospital until the month before she died -- including through the healthy births of eleven children. You read correctly. Eleven.)

Part of that strength I remember so vividly was Grandma's stubbornness. Whether pursing her lips about the "healthier" 2% milk she did.not.order on her grocery list or turning off the TV when "filth came on" by yanking the plug from the wall, Grandma Johnson knew her mind, and was not shy about sharing her determinations.

[In case you're wondering, yes, I am her biological grandchild. Shocking, I know! :-) ]

One of the most precious memories I have of Grandma is her quick reassurance to anyone telling her not to worry about something, "I am not worried. The Bible says not to worry. I just have great concerns."

Ranking right up there with the "You are my sunshine" tune, regular sleepovers next door, picking blueberries in the summer, watching her beautiful hands make those delicious chicken and dumplings with eight decades of love, and her favorite saying of "God has an all-seeing eye and an all-hearing ear," I think I heard the "great concern" statement so often that even at a very young age, I was hiding grins at the idea of Grandma Johnson not worrying about this or that.

Grandma's point, of course, was that she didn't want to disobey God or His Word -- a compulsion so sincere and pure that just thinking about it makes me teary eyed as I type. But admitting she did still have the feeling behind worry was so sweet, and equally earnest.

When things bother me -- usually those pesky ones I can't do anything about, naturally -- I quickly realize why God instructed us in His Word not to worry.

I mean, yes, it's easy to do. Hard not to do, actually.

But man, it can eat away at you, can't it?

I guess everyone probably processes differently, but some days, when something big worries me, I get jittery, or start clenching my teeth, or can't keep my hands or mind busy enough. On really good days, I do all of those things.

Then on other days, I'm good for absolutely nothing, but in the opposite way. I could sleep all day -- all day! Grandma would have had a FIT! -- with no productivity, all over something I have absolutely no say-so in.

So even if most people process their troubles better than my extremes, how are any of us really of much use to anyone, especially God, if we do spend our time worrying? It's kind of hard for me to focus on something I need to do accurately, like fold clothes, if I am bothered that much. To take on tasks for others...well, that's nearly impossible.

So, I get where Grandma was going with her "great concerns." And some days, I'm right there with her. I definitely can't just let troubles drop off my radar and pretend they don't exist. But I can remember that I'm not the Pilot, but I am here for a reason, and if it's to be the best passenger I can be, then I certainly can't do that by obsessing about things I can't control.

Also, I can remind myself to breathe. Come to think of it, maybe that little secret was behind Grandma Johnson's ongoing relationship with her Vicks salve. :-)

The Bottom Line.

My parents are currently working on a HUGE project: reflooring their house. (I know -- ouch! But what a great reward once it's over.)

Anyway, when we were all home for my Daddy's birthday in September, they asked our opinions on the type of flooring they'd chosen. They had a sample and were showing us how it looked against the fireplace, etc.

Caleb was busy flying Star Wars ships around as we talked about it, and at one point when he landed near us, I asked his thoughts on the new floor.

As soon as my sweet nephew made an expression pretty close to the one in this picture, just like it was yesterday, I could see my Grandma Johnson's dining room table, and watch her rolling out the dough for chicken and dumplings while singing sweet hymns in her gorgeous alto voice.

And the ceiling in Nan's house in Woolmarket -- all the wood and knots and how fascinating it looked from way down where I was playing on her oval rug.

And my Aunt Mildred's dishwasher-less kitchen -- the stove and sink and how she was always ready with fun conversation and fresh pitchers of lemonade, no matter what time of year or day you visited.

And Uncle Gary and Aunt Renee's dining room, and the countless meals and birthday parties and cakes (by Renee!) that we celebrated so many fun years over.

And the light fixtures that hung from the wood ceiling (much like my Nan's) at Woolmarket Baptist Church, and how I always daydreamed about swinging from them off the balcony all the way into the choir loft.

It's a strong possibility that a few of those decorative items I'm recalling weren't top of the line, or the most updated recommendations from interior designers, yet they were and still are vital to my memories. They helped compose the lyrics of my childhood.

So, in that rush of memories, I wasn't too shocked when Caleb asked with a puzzled look, "Why would Grammi and Grandpa get a new floor?"

Pulling him into a hug, my mom said, "Well, this carpet is just too old to keep, but you can always remember Grammi and Grandpa's old floor."

And really, she's right.

No matter what floor we're standing on, our memories are a key part of our foundation.

And that (as infamous former Jackson, MS, mayor Frank Melton used to say), is the bottom line.

Lordy, lordy, look who's....

....40:

The moonwalk!

Nah, not the one MJ did (though that may be 40, too), but the one Neil Armstrong did (or did he? hmmmmm).

It's interesting, though, how fast technology has moved along. I was surprised to learn this happened a mere 7 years before I was born. Really? I figured it was way earlier than that.

And to think that my Grandma Johnson, who was born in 1904, saw everything from horses and buggies....to birthing 11 children (!) in her home (!!)....to automobiles....to electric lights....to outdoor plumbing coming inside....to bought milk and chickens....to -- gasp! this was a horrid day that I WELL remember! -- 2% milk!....to television....to girls showing not only their ankles to men they weren't married to, but also their legs....to telephones....to an actual boombox....all all by the time she passed away in 1991.

Whatever side of the walk-on-the-moon debate we're on, we gotta admit: a lot has happened in the last 100 years, much less the last 40.

You go, Neil, and Grandma Johnson, and Pop Ball, and Nan, and Aunt Mildred, and Uncle Isaac, and all the others who did and continue to stick with this crazy fast world for as long as you have.
One small step for man; one giant leap for mankind.

So, so true. With every step we take.

Long live the progress.