I want to tell you a story of a road. The first dirt road I knew connected my house to a dairy farm. There was a big silo between my house and my Nana and Papa's house. I could ride my pink huffy bike faster than most girls my age. Nana's house was always like our second home. My mother would always say, "Nana fixed (fill in the blank) " and off we would go to eat at her table. She was known for her cooking and her seamstress ability. Ask anyone who went to church with her and they would tell you both. I would tell you that there was always ice cream at Nana's and popcorn for M.A.S.H. Nana always stayed up to watch the 10 o'clock news. She always had us making something. We spent hours playing in her sewing room with my cousins. She loved her flowers and feed a bazillion barn cats outside. She made blankets for baby calves in the winter which I now have on my bed. She has probably made more stuff to sale at a church bizarre than any other human. When I broke my foot she was worried about me and insisted my family come to her house for supper. We show up and she has made a standing rib roast, homemade rolls, fresh vegetables and dessert. If that wasn't enough, she made the place mats and napkins for the special occasion. I pray you will remember the homemade chocolate heart mini cakes she made you every year for Valentines with red sprinkles.
I was never the girl in dresses. That was my sister. I was usually with an oil can greasing up whatever my daddy and Papa said I could. Nana still made dresses for me to wear. Once she entered her dress into a some Alfa sewing exhibit. I was to wear the dress and model. Oh I think my mother had to spank me that day to make me smile. I am sure Nana was so pleased with me. But what I remember most about the dresses, the hats, the blankets, the cross stitch lessons were each labeled with a tag inside that said, "Made by Nana with Love." She always made everything with love. She served on more committees and taught Sunday School longer than I think possible all with love. Sure she has plaques and trophies and awards that show all her accomplishments. But it is the people who have filled the halls of the nursing home, sent messages, called and written over the last few months that tell her story. She was about the people. Recently she told me at the nursing home, "I don't know needs. I have never known needs. Wants. Yes. But needs I have never known." age 92.
I remember Nana finding out we were moving back to the farm house. She was so excited I would be behind her and my sister beside her. Once again there would be a dirt road in between. My mother tells a story of me being lost when I was a toddler. And her fear was I had run through the pasture with a bull. Sure enough I have braved the pasture and I was found at my Nana's. History has a way of repeating itself. Not long after we moved back into the home I grew up in, you Marlee Grace went missing. You had told your brother you were going to Aunt Michelle's. We looked for you for 40 long minutes. To add the thrill factor you had left on your four wheeler. Uncle Scott was the one who found you and he called to report you were at Nana's. When I arrived at her house, Uncle Scott said, "don't beat her. Your Nana is very excited to have her." Nana gave me a long talking to about how you were fine and were helping her shell peas and there was no reason to be upset.
I know you both know our time on this earth with Nana is limited. She knows the road she is headed. Eternity is real and we are so blessed to know she is headed to an eternity with our King. I know that you are so blessed to know and be known by a great grandmother. There are a million stories in my heart and head I will share with you about the person I call Nana and you call Nana Kent. But remember, I told you this is a story of a road. The road to Nana's final resting place is the life in front of you. My children, you will take so many roads in your lifetime. Some you will choose. Some will be chosen for you. My prayer is that you go to the gate: But small is the gate and narrow the road that leads to life, and only a few find it. Matthew 7:14