“Grandmas Are Speshle,” Ensign, Jan. 1982, 63
While cleaning out drawers the other day, I came across a packet of treasured notes and letters that my grandchildren had sent me over the years. On one was written in childish handwriting, “To Grandma.” I opened it and read:
“Grandmas are so speshle—they love us so much. We all should love them too. Sometimes they bring us tretes that taste so so good. If I could give them 100 milun dollars I would. I love you and gramps but most of all I love you, you clen our house like shining gold. Your cross sometimes but that’s how its supost to be, but when your cross I stel love you so so much. Love, Stacie”
I remembered as if it had been yesterday—about two years ago when Stacie was eight and staying with us for a few days. She had done something I thought she shouldn’t, so I had reprimanded her.
She had gone to her room, pouting. But about ten minutes later as I was at the sink peeling potatoes, I felt little arms around my waist. As I turned and looked down, a kiss was planted on my cheek. Stacie quickly handed me the note and ran outside.
I remembered how I felt that day, and the same feelings rushed over me again. I couldn’t help but think what a different world this would be if all of us could love and forgive those whom we felt had wronged us. Ann P. Lloyd, Logan, Utah