Gram's Writing Desk

Gram's writing desk is one of the few pieces of furniture I have ever coveted:



It's where she composed quite a few of the family updates over the years; she collected them all into a little booklet for us at my request, a sort of family history that spans my entire life. The birth announcements and other such things are written in her inimitable style. Gram is the sort of person who carries Home with her wherever she goes. After Dad's dad passed, she married Mom's dad. The year this happened, her note contained a little prayer that she said "in my happy business": "'Do you know how hard it is to plan for a wedding?' To which the Lord responded, 'Yes, I've been planning one for ages.'"

I know most grandmothers are special, but I'm pretty sure mine is the best one ever. Even in the new apartment we moved her into last year, she has made it a Home, as comforting and enjoyable as the old house—which I think I miss more than she does! She has claimed every nook and cranny (even the unfilled ones), and they practically ooze the homeliness I have come to associate with trips to Grandma's:



The function of her decoration is the invocation of memories and time, the remembrance of things past and the longing for the future that we share. It is so easy to see the source of the little notes she sent while we grew up. There is a taste of refreshment and freedom and rest to be had by simply stepping through the door. If John Bunyan were alive today, this would be one of the stops on the road weary Pilgrim traveled.

I have thought in this trip about my plantings and uprootings, and it's instructive to spend time here. Years ago I went far away for college, I think with the intent that I would stay far away, to make a name for myself and a life, something I could ostensibly tell others about at parties (not that I ever go to them).

Since then I've come to appreciate the Old Testament system of inheritance, where the family kept the land, even through hard times: the value of your possession was reckoned according to the time when it would be returned to you if sold. (Every fifty years debts were canceled and the lands not claimed by cities would be returned to the family of the original owner.)

I never really expected to live in the same area as my parents when I graduated school, nor to work a relatively pedestrian job. Contrary to my expectation, I find myself contented in these things, and welcoming them, realizing how they have made it possible for me to enjoy the life that I lead today. I do not have much time to write—business consumes my waking (and often sleeping) moments—but I am contentedly busy.

I have been given much. It's time to take a trip, so I'd best wrap up. I don't know if I'm going to write much at all in the coming months, but my absence largely means I'm doing well.