I had a great-grandma who passed away when I was nine years old. I remember her coffee table so well. There were four generations of us, three of whom sipped coffee and me, eagerly anticipating her soft, iced oatmeal cookies. While my mother, grandma and great-grandma gabbed and giggled, I sat with a construction paper masterpiece at my glue-covered fingertips of uncooked noodles and mismatched sequins.
She was 87 years old in that cozy, one-bedroom rambler. As I plant my own now, I tell my kids how she grew peapods on her backstep, where she showed me how to eat them right off the vine. She dedicated the bottom drawer of her dresser to art supplies and children’s books for when I’d come to visit. I was enamored by the original Mother Goose Nursery Rhymes collection, and I still fondly thumb through them from where they now sit on my bookshelf. This elephant-loving icon was more than just an open home, she was the strongest woman I’ve ever known.
She was born in 1906 and grew to become a one-room schoolhouse teacher, arriving each morning by horseback to build a fire and warm the classroom before teaching emigrant students in first through seventh grade until she began a family of her own. After marrying, she grew eight babies in her womb. Her firstborn drowned at the age of 12, and her last was born still on the birthday of one of her daughters. Another kiddo raised a little Cain and was electrocuted while climbing a tree, needing a skin graft and around-the-clock care for months.
Despite what trials life threw at her, she was steadfast in her care and positivity. She loved her children immensely. So, when her husband’s violence turned on her sons, this brave lady packed up all of her babies and moved from North Dakota to the Twin Cities in Minnesota on her own at age 38. In a time of cookie-cutter homes and gender roles, she built her and her children a new life as a single parent.
After a time, her husband followed her, but my great-grandma continued to live on her own with her family, being the sole caretaker. Her children all attended private schools while she did everything she could to make a beautiful life full of confidence and opportunity for them.
When my world was shaken by my own divorce when I was 34 years old, I experienced years of unexpected hurdles and unfair oppression. I took comfort in reminding myself that I had had the greatest teacher in the world to model the love and perseverance necessary to push through life’s hardest moments. There isn’t a soul that knew her that didn’t think she was tough as nails.
She taught each of her children and all of her 49 grandchildren and great-grandchildren that girls cannot be limited to a specific role and that we all have the capability of doing anything we set our minds to. Increased by her gentle, warm spirit, her legacy and wisdom continued through every grandchild born since.
It’s easy to see why her collection of beautiful glass elephants was so large. Loved ones would think of her when they saw one and purchase it in her honor from various locations around the world. In a herd of elephants, family is of the utmost importance, and every family herd is shepherded by the strong, resilient, and caring leadership of their matriarch.
My great-grandma taught me many things, like how to make others feel important and that actions speak louder than words, but most valuable of all, she taught me the strength I have within myself. Quite possibly the greatest gift a grandma can give her family, and I am incredibly privileged to share my great-grandma’s inspiring story for generations to come. She can teach us all: we are brave, we are strong. Keep going!
Originally published on the author’s blog
by Amy Keyes 
by Andrea Nalls 
