Grandma Hope

It feels special to me somehow that Grandma Hope finally passed while I was geographically nearer to her--visiting my Dad in Washington State for the Labour Day weekend--yesterday, September 7, 2026. She waited for her daughter's birthday to pass in August, then her son's birthdays September 4 and 5. How couth(!) and kind and thoughtful of you, Grandma!

I say she "finally" passed because there had been a few false alarms over the years. She lived to 98, and for a bit was in a care home having lost lots of her memory. It's like she was a washcloth full of so much water--that water being her light--and Life needed to wring every last drop out. Spread it at 98 to to the others in the care home! The patients, the staff! Sometimes it was a struggle wondering why God kept her here so long, when she couldn't remember much anymore. But, I think Life just wasn't finished with her yet, there was so much to give from her spirit. My Dad and Aunt Debbie visited her regularly those last few years--I only made it once with Dad and my sister Jenny. It was on my heart to suggest another visit there this time around, knowing it had been awhile and perhaps we had a bit of time, but Dad said he'd actually gotten a call shortly before our arrival that, basically, the end was near. He was on standby with hospice really the whole weekend, and he and my Step Mom Linda had to leave from yesterday's adventures early when they got the latest urgent call.

Grandma Hope passed peacefully with many who cared for her right there. 

How wonderful to know she was in a home with people who loved her like their own mother this last little while. Her small bedroom full of photos of her family over the years, often playing beautiful hymns for her to pass the day to, in between lighting the common space with her presence. Even though not *all there* I know her light shone. I felt it when I visited, that light of hers spreading around. And the stories I heard from Dad re-iterated that. She helped and comforted and loved and cheered people till the very end.  

While I know her life touched others' lives from Brazil to Switzerland to Pittsburgh to Burien to...ohgosh countless locales--all her missionary travels with Harry, all the books she wrote (translated into many, many languages!), all the conferences she spoke at, all the churches she was involved with...well, I was her granddaughter. And shhhh don't tell but she always said I was her favourite. So. So! Did she tell allllll her grand kids that and I'm just naive? (Probably!) Either way, even Grandma Hope wasn't perfect. She was human. And she touched my life so deeply by being my Grandma. Grandma Mac, Grandma Hope. Lucky me, indeed! Blessed to be her granddaughter. 

When I went through really hard times as an adult, I knew she'd listen to me. I could call her at 206-824-3619! Right from memory! And she'd be there. Her warm and cheerful voice ready to hear all my woes and empathize sincerely until her "ears hurt", as she'd say--a good hour or two into things! Grandma Hope gave me HOPE during very dark times. She wrote me countless letters, and put cheerful stickers on them. Always and forever reminding me of her prayers.

As a little girl I have such fond memories of playing with Grandma Hope, yes, playing! I look forward to being a grandma someday because of her. Playing dolls and tea party with cinnamon tea and sit in the dark on the floor let's see who can draw this best! The best was when she'd let me rummage through her jewelry drawer and try on all her rings ohmygoodness how magical that was!!! Sheeky Shocky for the win!! Watching The Sound of Music with way salty popcorn and amazing homemade ice cream. Vernors Ginger Ale (hey can someone please get some of that for the funeral we don't have it in Canada!). 

She was even a Great Grandma and my girls--especially--remember well the Scotty dog tights one of them got with a Christmas dress from her, the other outfits, the jewelry she let them play with. How incredibly sweet she was with them.  

For years Grandma Hope would say she wouldn't be buying Christmas presents anymore. But lo and behold the holiday would come and she'd have bags for us. Towards her latter years it was fuzzy slipper socks, warm winter hats, blankets. I still have the cutest black jacket with off white rick-rack edging from White & Black(?) maybe 2004 from her. I wear it all the time. She enjoyed shopping, and she was generous with her money. The chocolates and candy I got at Easter ohmyyyyyyy!!! Never Forget. She could spend at Nordstrom's. She had great taste. 

There were often rumblings of too much butter or salt in Grandma Hope's cooking (not a problem taste-wise lemme tell you, but, oh no health!) and I will take this as a lesson that there's maybe...no(!!) such thing as too much butter or salt. Or cream. I mean, 98! Genes, sure. Positivity. Jesus! Faith! Prayer! All Those Vitamins she took!!! Probably not "junk" food in the cupboards, just real food...real food with lots of salt and butter! And cream! Little nut dishes with meals, a nice green salad and lots of veggies helped too. Those After 8 chocolately dinner mints to top things off. Along with, well, dessert. She kept her womanly figure highlighted with tight waisted Victorian style skirts, high necked blouses tucked in. She'd twirl--for sure--to show off her skirts. Always moving gracefully even in high intensity kitchen prep for very large family gatherings! Getting hot with a little sweat and fanning of the face, some kind of refreshing drink needed with LOTS of ice to help her cool down. Like maybe some iced tea or diet cola. 

She could be so silly, and let her guard down, the older I got the more I saw it. She was humble--even though "famous" in her realm--she hid her nerves well when speaking to crowds of 100s or more people. Speaking in such an engaging way. So relatable. She was insecure, like the rest of us. Suffered from "imposter" syndrome I think. But she carried on. Her actions ploughed her ahead, as did her consistent and reliable nature, her dedication, and her calling.  

Be Couth!

Be Sweet!

Putatuh Chips! (Thanks, Skyler, for the reminder!)

Rice Crispy Chicken! 

Sourdough Toast and Half and Half on Cereal for Breakfast! (Whenever I eat sourdough toast, which is often, I think of Grandma and Grandpa.)

Fancy Dining Tables! Fancy Kids Tables! 

Precious Angel!

Run A Comb Through Your Hair (Jenny and Breelyn this one's for you, I never got it haha!) 

It's ok to cry, she'd tell me when I was suffering, just set a timer for 15 minutes and then be done! (or was it 30?)

Oh, I remember that year when everyone came home from college and we had a wedding (or this or that), she told me, and it was such a lovely time and then...everyone left. And I was so alone, and so sad it was over.

I'll never forget those pieces of life she shared with me, that told me it was ok. It was ok to cry for awhile, to SOB! That sometimes even the most perfect looking family or situation or time well...it really doesn't last forever...and we humans always have to adapt and adjust. And, sometimes we feel so sad and lonely. We do. Sometimes something is so devastating. And then, and then...it turns into a 70 year marriage! (Recalling stories of her early engagement with Harry, here!)

Little arm tickles along the tender side of my forearm, with her long silver painted nails and jingly charm bracelets would put me in a trance when I was younger and over for a holiday or other such fun time. (I still can't find the right shade of silver nail polish, btw! Anyone?!)

She always loved the way I sipped drinks. Really! She always called me a Precious Angel even when I really thought that was just so misguided and she didn't know me at all...but that was Hope...with me...cause I was her favourite hahahahahaha! And, she knew me. But actually, that was Hope with most people. Seeing the best in them. 

There's something about that. Seeing the positive, seeing an essence, trying to bring it forth. I watched her work this at the retirement home she and Grandpa moved to close to 20 years ago. They'd go down to dinner with all the other residents and she'd spread her light of HOPE to all. They'd come to her. Wherever she went. 

I had short hair much of high school and young adulthood and she would say in only her way, something like:  "Megan, college is a great time to have long hair, you know" and I would try not to roll my eyes. I would try to Be Sweet in my response. Grandma Hope wasn't perfect, and I'm no Precious Angel! But Grandma Hope, I will have really long hair when I come to celebrate your life with all my family. The family you nurtured alongside your husband of many years. Harry the *Patriarch* of the family, that word used before it became tainted in popular culture. It meant something solid, something loving and protective like a big wing. And it was ok. Those two worked for it, they meant it, they pulled us all together and as a result we have beautiful memories of very well manicured and thoughtful holidays and traditions and sleepovers infused with prayer and affirmations and funny sayings and wisdom and conversations and laughs. And soon, the remainder of us will come together to celebrate all that once again. And I'll have long hair and feel all my Precious Angel vibes. I hope to sip a Vernors in just the right way, too, Grandma Hope. 

Love you forever, see you when I get there. Thanks for everything, and it really was so much.