Ed and Helen Zaugg

I have been longing to write this all day.  My blessed grandmother, at the beautiful age of 96, went to be with Jesus last night.  My mind floods with her memories... her and Grandpa's as they were in love, inseparable, and full of life.  My childhood is a weave of their giving and laughing and rebuking and spurring.  I vividly remember going to the nursing home that they owned and having big wheel races, doing gymnastics, singing Christmas carols, and being forced to kiss Great Grandma's cheek and it didn't matter that I was queasy at the thin, wrinkly skin or the odd smell in the room.  We were to honor and cherish and love, beyond appearances and comfort.  At the age of ten, eleven, and twelve, I got to have slumber parties  in her basement.  They had a full basement with a kitchen and a shuffle board in the tile floor.  We were never allowed in the World Relief room, which was also in the basement, where Grandpa and Grandma were forever sorting clothes, making blankets and quilts and constructing boxes of homemade soap for missionaries in faraway lands.  But we had unlimited pizza in the freezer, pop in the fridge, and games.  We'd throw our sleeping blankets on the floor and stay up late telling stories because there wasn't a television in the house and only one radio, upstairs and out of reach.  As two girls usually managed to stay awake longer than the others, our idea of a good time was freezing under things after soaking them in water.  The next morning, Grandma was appalled as she was a proper, put together, speak clearly, modest woman but we all saw Grandpa in the corner with coffee and toast, silently snickering and wiping away tears of laughter in his eyes.  He thought it was hilarious.  More than a handful of times, I heard Grandma say "Ed!".  Girls had to go home with already worn under things and we were not allowed to expand on the fun during our breakfast of skinny pancakes.  We smiled and chattered on still the same, moving on to our day.  Oh those slumber parties!

I also remember wanting all things Grandpa.  I craved time with him and them.  I'd stay with them periodically for an overnight, and always being treated to the local soda shop for candy and soda.  Grandpa and sometimes Grandma, and I would walk the four blocks to the shop.  We'd sit on the high stools, Grandpa chatting with the men over coffee and me, starry eyed gazing at the selection of deliciousness.  He'd give me a bag and say "fill 'er up!".  Yesssss.  I'd get a handful before going home, because he and I both knew Grandma was the gatekeeper of all things unhealthy  and she'd distribute our treats accordingly.  It was our little game.  He always snuck a few extras out at night while Grandma was getting ready for bed.  Because of no television and no siblings accompanying me, their house was quiet.  I laid in their huge guest queen bed, staring at the ceiling, thinking about my normal but meaningful day with Grandpa.  How he has this Jeep that I adored and wanted, how they had coins everywhere - in the closet, at the bottom of purses, on the counter in a dish- how meticulous Grandma was in keeping her house and garden, how every day was filled with moving and doing, how Grandma painted and Grandpa built her frames, how Grandma wore her rain cap oh so carefully so as not to smash her not-a-hair-out-of-place do.  Oh, and the stockings she had hanging on her fireplace for every member of her twenty-something growing family.  You had a place at Grandmas.  You counted and mattered and she was proud of you because you were theirs.  What security lies in such a legacy!

They also expected great things.  They expected strength and good decisions and honor your elders and be modest and give.  You had fun but you worked hard.   They were simple and purposeful and loving and patient.  They taught me grace and care and joy.  As Grandpa read from his German Bible and sang German hymns, as we went to church with them every Sunday from 9-2, as we prayed before each meal and thanked God for His grace, they prioritized the most important thing which was a life lived for Christ.  They demonstrated it, they expected it.  It was who they were and it was on that faith that decisions were made, and land was farmed, and people were cared for in every practical way.  I just wrote not too long ago of their accomplishments in this world and I know they would say, with a wave of their hand, and dismissal in their voices "Ah."  Accomplishment was nothing if it wasn't founded in faith and grace, and then forwarded in the purposes of Christ.  Thank you for your example of giving much, battling the hard, and loving Jesus.  What a beautiful heritage you began.