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Jennings (Lake)
On "cool" grandmothers and heavenly cruises
Not every kid could say their grandmother was "cool." In fact, many grandmothers, from a child's point of view, are precisely the opposite.
Not mine. My grandma was most assuredly cool. Those little old lady types don't drive sweet little Thunderbirds. They don't travel the world. They don't sport a near year-round tan (earning her the nickname "GrahamCracker," bestowed by we grandkids). And they most certainly do not ride Harley-Davidson motorcycles. But mine did.
What was "cool" to me about my grandmother from my childhood point of view became respect as I entered adulthood. I came to understand her as strong. Strong, independent women were not always the norm in the 70s. But my grandmother embodied that descriptor like few other women I've met before or since.
The beauty of her strength came from straight from the source: her unshakeable faith in the Lord Jesus Christ. Grandma Jennings wasn't just a hearer of the Word. She wasn't a mere pew-warmer or Sundays-only Christian. She lived her faith. She served. She visited Israel where I imagine she walked in the footsteps of the Saviour she loved. The Saviour in whose arms she is resting now.
I would close with a socially-sanctioned "rest in peace," but I'm not convinced that really sums up who she was. She wasn't a quiet, demure, bashful sort of person. I perfer to picture her walking straight up to Jesus, extending her hand, and saying "So glad to finally meet you. What's next? Let's get on it!" And then singing up a storm with others who had gone on before her, organizing a cruise down Heaven's crystal river of Life, and stirring up a little fun on those streets of gold.
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