The Secret

This past winter my husband's Grandmother (Margaret Smith) passed away.  As expected, it had been an emotionaly difficult week.  But also expected, it was a wonderful homecoming of family.

I first met Shannon's grandparents (Nana and Grandaddy) when I  began dating Shannon, when I was 17. Him and his dad were living with them in Bullard at the time, so anytime I was at Shannon's house, it was actually his grandparents's peach farm in Bullard. In fact, I actually saw them more than his parents.     At the memorial service this weekend, Shannon's brother Shay spoke about how loving, and accepting Nana was.  I witnessed that first hand as an outsider, spending time with this family.  She seemed to immediately love me, like I was an extension of her Grandson.  I soon took to calling them by their grandparent family names "Nana & Grandaddy".  There was no other name that suited them.  At that early point in knowing them, they instanty grafted me into the family and they became my grandparents too.


As an outsider in the family, (technically, but I NEVER felt like one), I began to understand the secret of this Smith family.  It all revolved around that peach farm.  For Shannon, that farm is the one constant "home base" he ever knew.  For practical reasons, related to jobs and things, his parents moved a lot while he grew up.  But the farm was always there.  I could always see it in his face, when he talked about the farm.  Going to see Nana and Grandaddy was pure joy for him, fishing out there, even working out there, was pure joy.

A few years into mine and Shannon's dating relatioship, I began attending the family holiday gatherings out at the farm.   From the family tradition of Christmas Eve  dinner and round robin gift exchange to the yearly grandkid Easter egg hunt, I absolutly LOVED every minute with this family.   Not to say that I didn't cherish my own families holiday traditions, because of course I do, but it is a very special memory of mine being grafted into this family.

Over the years of dating, Shannon and I took every opportunity to spend time together on that farm.  He would pick me up from my house in town, and we would hed straight for the farm.  We would fish, ride dirt bikes, shoot targets, have picnicks, anything he would come up with, just to be there.  Then of course stop at the house on the way out for some lunch and time to visit with Nana and Grandaddy.  I remember sitting on that couch, watching whatever they had on the TV. Usually either a western rerun, a revival or sermon. I learned things by watching those sermons on TV there.  Those moments turned out to be just one of the "seeds" the Lord planted in me to prepare me for His moment of Salvation in my life that was yet to come.

It didn't take long for me to begin to understand that Nana & Grandaddy and that farm were the glue that held the family together.  It was "home base" for the Smith family.  As the years passed by, marriages and great grandchildren were added to the family.  But so did age. Nana and Grandaddy retired from the peach orchard.  After a few more years it became apparent to everyone that it was becoming unsafe place for Nana and Grandaddy to remain at the farm.  Decisions were made, that had to be made, and Nana and Grandaddy were moved into town to be closer to medical facilities and care.

It had to be done, but I know that the same thing passed through everyone's mind at some point....we had witnessed our last Christmas Eve's at the farm, and the last Easter Egg hunts.   This type of thing happens in all families.  It's enevitable, and it moves the family into smaller units.  Allows the grown children, to assume the role of the "glue" in their immediate familes.  Its a good thing, but hard at the same time.  So gathering together as extended family after the memorial service was the first time in several years that had happened.  Some family members were just drawn back out to farm.  All week, we heard family say "I'm just walking around out here on the farm." or "I think I need to just go to the farm for a bit".  LIke I said before...that farm is some very strong "glue".  Faith is tangible out there, you can feel it wash over you as soon as you drive through the gate, the one marked with an old wooden sign that says "E.M & Margaret Smith".  But when I passed under that sign, it it only seemed to say "Welcome to the most peaceful and loving place on earth."

No one ever said anything to me, but I KNOW that they prayed for my salvation.  I know many members of the family did.  Just walking around that precious house, was a silent witness to me.  The worn bible sitting on the little table between their chairs. The many, many faith based books on the bookshelf that Grandaddy had read.  Sciptures on wall plaques, what was always on the TV, the faith filled blessings prayed over our family meals.  It all was a witness to me.  I know that Nana prayed many prayers over her family, and that her and Grandaddy lifted everyone's names up to the Lord. It may have been done in secret, not in a showy way, but it was fervent prayer none the less.

So as we arrived at Nana's Memorial service, a family member asked me if I would be willing to read a poem they had found handwritten in Nana's bible.  And I responded, "Sure, but shoudn't a real grandchild be the one to read it?" They answered that they didn't think anyone else would be able to get through reading it without crying through it.  So I agreed.  I read over it a few times to prepare, then when the moment in the service came I read it as best I could through an emotional throat. But it wasn't until after the service was over, and we all gathered at a family members house for lunch together, did the full meaning of the moment come together for me.  One of Grandaddy's sisters (Shannon's Great Aunt) pulled me aside to tell me something about the poem I had just read. She explained to me that she rememberd seeing Nana sitting at Grandaddy's parents house, and copying that poem from her Mother-In-Laws bible into her own bible. That's when it hit me....at a time when she was being grafted into a new family, she found someone with a faith she admired and had also been touched by that faith.  That poem must have touched her, spoke to her, possilby even directed her to emulate the person who shared it with her....another women who was grafted into the Smith family.  So at the last minute, when the family decided to add a reading of that poem to her Memorial, no one in the room had known that this was the history behind that poem.  And they unknowingly asked me to read it.  Not knowing my feelings that would surround it.

So as I share the words of poem with you, imagine Nana taking it into her soul and living it every day, on her knees in prayer before the Lord for those she loved.  Becuase she did.  I have no doubt that faith is the secret to building a happy loving home, one that grafts outsiders in with effortless, non judgmental love and care.   As it turns out, her precious Mother-In-Law was that type of person as well.  So I will honor Nana and Great Grandmommy Smith by carrying on the Smith Family tradition of women who were grafted into this precious Smith family....by sharing the secret with all who are blessed, as we are, to be a member of it.

The Secret
I met God in the morning
When my day was at it's best,
And His presence came like sunrise,
Like a glory in my breast.

All day long the Presence lingered,
All day long He stayed with me,
And we sailed in perfect calmness,
O'er a very troubles sea.

Other ships were blown and battered,
Other ships were soare distressed.
But the winds that seemed to drive them,
Brought to us a peace and rest.

Then I thought of other mornings,
With a keen remorse of mind.
When I too had loosed the moorings,
With the Presence left behind.

So I think I know the secret,
Learned from many a troubled way.
You must seek Him in the morning,
If you want Him through the day.


Do you have a godly woman in your family that has influenced you?  Tell me about her!