The Faith of My Grandmothers

Over the past few weeks, I've experienced many new things. (Sometimes frightening, discouraging, exhilarating, and tiring things.)  I keep finding myself strengthened through these new experiences by the faith of my grandmothers.

I have the most amazing grandmothers!  Their lives of faith strengthen me every day.  I thought of them as I studied the story of the woman in the scriptures (Matthew 26: 6-13) who anointed Jesus with the precious ointment.  Christ says of her act, "That this woman hath done, be told for a memorial of her."  Her faithful act was recorded and shared to strengthen the faith of all of us.  And it stands as a memorial to her.  What a beautiful thought for all of us -- that our acts of faith can be recorded to strengthen others and become a memorial for us.

Well, that's what has happened with my grandmothers.  They lived their lives and recorded their stories, and their life stories teach and strengthen my faith every day.

This week, as I was driving a new route through Salt Lake to the hospital, I was a little frightened and wished I was back in Avon waiting for cows moving down the road rather than waiting for city traffic.  The story of my grandmother, Millie Swan, popped into my mind.  In 1934, she and my grandfather, Ralph, moved to Alhambra, California for my grandfathers health.  Grandma writes in her journals how she hoped to never drive in Los Angeles traffic, but when Ralph fell at work and hurt his back, she had to drive him to his therapy sessions every day in Los Angeles.  When I remembered that story, I figured if my grandmother could drive in Los Angeles, I could make it through Salt Lake.

Yesterday, as Brendan was waiting for his blood transfusion, I thought of Millie's mother, Emma Eleanor "Ella" Bateman (my great-grandmother), who lost her 11-year-old son in a tragic farming accident.  His leg had been severely cut in a hay mowing accident when the horses spooked and threw him under the horse-drawn hay mower.  The surgery to remove his leg was successful, but he died shortly after surgery from lack of blood.  There were no blood transfusions in 1929.  I'm so grateful for modern medicine miracles.  Throughout her life she remained ever faithful and true, despite losing another son (Orlando B) a few years later to a bacteria in the blood that affected his heart.

My great-grandmother, Ella (middle), with her family in 1926.  Grant (left front) , John (right front) and "B" (back right)

In 1933, While my great-grandmother Ella was at the LDS hospital in Salt Lake with her oldest son, B, she wrote a postcard to her youngest son, John, who was at home with his dad in Rupert, Idaho.  I have that postcard.  It is a birthday greeting to John (age 11) and tells him how much she wished she could be with him on his birthday, but couldn't.  She hoped he was being good for his dad and that she hoped to see him soon.

My heart resonates with hers as I yearn to be at home and the hospital at the same time.  I also thought of her yesterday as we spent time in Salt Lake with Brendan AND celebrated birthdays with the other kids together.  Another modern miracle.

There is not a day that goes by that I don't think of my grandmothers and their faith.  There are many more stories and many other grandmothers that help me every day.  They made it through trials much greater than mine and their faith never wavered. It gives me strength to know they survived, and I will too.  Thanks to them, I know I can do hard things too.  I love my grandmothers and am so grateful for their strength and faith!