What Grandmas Do in Heaven

I can picture my mom sitting at her dining room table, the whirring of the old sewing machine filling the room. She probably took off her glasses so she could see better up close, and inch by inch, she guided the fabric along. She didn’t know it then, but the blanket she was so patiently stitching was destined for a grandbaby she would never meet on her earthly journey. She left this world before any of us knew she’d have a fifth grandchild.

Actually, my mom made that blanket for my oldest son. She had already made him and his sister one each, but they loved them so fiercely that they had become worn and tattered. So, back to the sewing machine she ventured to make them new ones–but the kids were so attached to the originals that the new ones were set aside.

For years, I had the privilege of watching my sweet mom be the best Grammie, cheerleader, prayer warrior, playmate, and friend to her four grandchildren–my two kids, and their two cousins. And along the way, she would pull out the needle and thread to mend the occasional tear or snag endured by those precious blankets.

Then one unexpected day, God called her home. When she left this world, my world collapsed.

About six months later, I became pregnant with my third child. A boy. I couldn’t escape the heartbreaking notion that my mom would never be able to make him a baby blanket like she had made for his older siblings. That this child would never spend time with her in this world. He would never know his sweet Grammie.

Soon, the idea came to me–he could have the second, barely used blanket my mom had made for my oldest son (who very sweetly agreed). There was only one problem—it was nowhere to be found.

As my due date drew near, my husband and I searched the house to no avail. It wasn’t until the day of our tenth wedding anniversary, nine months after our baby boy was born, that it turned up in a closet that had been searched before. My eyes brimmed with tears as I traced my finger along the stitching. Our baby boy would finally have his “Grammie blankie.” It felt glorious to wrap it around him that day, cradling him as his body snuggled into a comfortable, blissful snooze.

As time passes, I think of all the things my mom has missed that would have brought her so much joy as a grandma. My nephew’s graduation. My niece’s dance recitals. First communions, talent shows, concerts, baptisms, birthday parties, Easter egg hunts. And I think about how for my sweet baby boy . . . she’s missed it all.

But maybe not completely.

Maybe my mom’s view is different, her view from heaven, but she still cheers on all her grandkids. She still prays fervently for them when she senses their worries or frustrations. She beams with pride over their accomplishments when she runs into the other grandmas in heaven, just as she would when running into friends at the grocery store.

As for my baby boy, I like to think my mom has spent time with him in another world already. In heaven, while God was waiting to send me his sweet little soul to carry, maybe she held him first. Rocked him. Sang to him. Wrapped him in a warm blanket.

Maybe that’s what grandmas do in heaven. When they aren’t praying for their earthly grandchildren or watching over them from afar, maybe they do what they do best–simply be grandmas. Grandmas who care for the children who reside in heaven too, the children who have yet to begin their earthly journeys, and the children who have already been called eternally home. They hold tiny hands and kiss boo-boos. They read stories and play card games. They sew blankets and rock babies.

My youngest will know how special his Grammie is. How deeply she is missed. How much love she has for him and his siblings and cousins. A love that defies the boundaries of earth and heaven and the boundaries of time. A love sweetly sewn into every stitch of a priceless blanket.