My grandma, my dad’s mom, was the perfect grandma.  While I didn’t get to see her often, to the point where I was always a little uncomfortable, (interpret as introvert), she was always so kind to me.  My vision of her in my head is always the same, she always seemed like this jolly, German, haus frau.  She danced and sang, told stories and let me eat whatever I wanted- the perfect grandma.

I found a picture of her the other day, holding me right after I was born, and as I looked at her, I realized she was probably three years younger than I am now.  My first reaction was, wow, I look so much younger than she did at my age!  I’ll let you decide – it could all be in my head.  Anyway, as I looked at her and the aging on her face, I began to think of what she had been through during her life and I was a little ashamed.  The truth is, not to use what may be an overused word, I am privileged.

My grandma was born in 1903.  When I think of world events that happened during her lifetime, it’s a little overwhelming.  We talk about how tough older generations were but they had to be.  She was a first generation American on her father’s side, age 11 at the beginning of WWI.  She married at age 19, three years after her husband returned from the war, and was a mother two years later.  Her father died and her second son was born the next year.  Six years later, a little over a year after the stock market crash, son #3 was born.  Three boys just like me!

Then disaster. My grandfather passed away at the age of 42, leaving my grandmother during the Great Depression with three boys, ages 2, 8 and 10.  Dependent on donated food and other things, she survived this as a single mom for two years before she remarried.  All three sons joined the military around WWII and two graduated from college.  Her youngest died in a car accident around the age of 34 and she eventually divorced her second husband.  Her life ended with Alzheimer’s. It was a hard life, full of real hardship and deep sorrow, and yet rather than be bitter, she found joy in her family, grandchildren and in her faith.

It seems that most people try to up each other on how hard their lives are or have been.  Look, everyone has some kind of difficulty or sadness in their lives, whether real or perceived, but sometimes we really need to try to step into someone else’s shoes.  Honestly, I’m a pretty big weenie butt.  While my life has had some bumps, some big and some small, compared to my grandmother, my life has been pretty good.  Have I reflected that privilege or luck or whatever you want to call it in the way I live my life?

All this leading to what we’re dealing with now.  How hard is this really?  For some of us, life is a bit of a challenge, boring at times but not life threatening.  We’ll make it.  But the degree of difficulty grows for those couples who have kids and have to work from home. Or maybe they’re one of those essential workers and face the threat of the virus entering their world.  Maybe they have lived alone but had a social life and now they are literally isolated and dealing with silence day in and day out.  Maybe they’re homeless. Maybe they have a loved one who is sick or they themselves are sick.  Maybe someone they loved has died.  Do you see where I’m going?

How privileged are we?  Some of us are REALLY privileged – very fortunate.  And through all of this, regardless of our circumstances, have we found some joy and kept our faith like my grandmother did? Pretty sure I won’t ever look at this picture the same way again.