The Love of a Grandmother

Years ago, shortly before my grandmother passed away, she decided to give her cassette tape collection to me along with a few other items. It was not a vast collection by any means, and I had very little interest in most of it due to not listening to cassettes anymore. None of our vehicles has a cassette player and cassette tapes are quickly going the way of 8 tracks, drive-in theaters, black and white television sets, and honest politicians (sorry, just had to throw that one in!). So it was with superficial gratitude (speaking of not being honest), that I graciously accepted the small collection and took it home.

My grandmother was a very intelligent, hard-working, classy lady with a special love of knowledge, Biblical ideals, and national politics. She could often be found watching CNN Senate proceedings with great interest and she always had an opinion on various politicians. In retrospect, I realize that with few exceptions she was right. She was also a Sunday school teacher, public speaker, artist, optimist (albeit rather narrow at times), and lover of her family.

As I began to go through the cassettes and to throw away most of it, I noticed several that were in their original wrapping. I also noticed several that had obviously been played continuously for years. I organized the tapes into two groups--the used and unused--and a fascinating truth began to emerge. The unused tapes were tapes that I and friends had given to her over the years. They were generally of great orchestras, great performers, and an occasional powerful and significant speech. The unused tapes had the most meaning to me and without a doubt the best sound and delivery.

The used tapes, however, contained family moments of church productions, Sunday School classes, instrumental solos of grandchildren, and even casual recordings of family gatherings. One tape in particular contained a recording of a solo I had sung in a church play when I was 10 or 12 years old. There is little doubt that this recording would make the top ten of the all-time worst recordings in the industry. The singing is poor, the sound quality poor, the style is poor, and the music itself is poor. Mysteriously, this tape was among the most used in the collection.

One of the items she gave me was a crooked, worthless star made out of cardboard and covered in tin foil. This star would be an embarrassment at a white elephant party. Its sole value might be in using the foil for a dish in the kitchen. It would be difficult to make a worse star than this one. But as I looked at this item, I recalled its place on the annual Christmas tree at her house. I recall as a child wondering why it was there and why my grandmother didn't go to the store and buy a better one. My brother had made that star and it was not very good. Why did she keep that star and why did she insist on listening to that tape?

There is no logical explanation. The head examines this conundrum and can come to no conclusion that makes any kind of cognitive sense whatsoever. Why embrace the bad and avoid the good? Why accept the unacceptable and ostensibly pursue that which is mediocre over the excellent? Was she devoid of high standards, of rational thinking, of awareness of quality?

No. She perhaps knew somewhere in the recesses of her brain that the singing and the music were inferior. She knew the star was crooked and cheap. She knew there were superior recordings within her reach and a better star down the road at the local store. She knew the professional recording of the speech delivered by the famous political figure was better than the Sunday School class lecture done by her family member. But for my grandmother, heart led the head and the truth was found in love.

For her the cheap recording of the speech was of the finest quality. The singing of the song by her grandson represented the standard of excellence, and for her the star was perfect. All these things were her family and nothing was greater. Perfection is found in imperfections. Love, joy, and goodness surround all of us. My grandmother found those ideals through her family. That flawed but perfect star in your life should rest at the top of your tree for all to see. Beauty and love are not found through rational thinking and cognitive application; beauty and love are in your heart. That imperfect song may indeed be the song of love in your life. Sing it loudly and sing it joyfully for few things in life are more perfect than the love of family.

"I love you Grandmother. Thanks for loving me and seeing beyond my many flaws."