The Next Adventure

My cup overflows with happy memories of growing up in Boyne City, Michigan. Boyne City is a quaint little town on the water where “fudgies,” our somewhat affectionate name for tourists, visit for golfing and boating in the summer and skiing and snowmobiling in the winter. During the off seasons, Boyne was only about 3,500 people strong. Of those people, the most precious to me were my family, especially my Grandma.

I was fortunate enough to have my mom’s parents and most of her siblings, their spouses, and children living within a two-mile radius - close enough to walk or ride my bike to whenever I so desired. My favorite family member was my maternal Grandma, and I choose to believe I was her favorite as well. Grandma was a vivacious woman with joy always dancing in her eyes. She loved to laugh and be silly and drank life up like a cup of hot cocoa on a cold winter day. Grandma was forever looking for a new adventure, large or small, and I was always longing to go with her on those adventures.   

The clearest memories with Grandma are from my twelfth year. I’m not exactly sure why. Maybe I was coming of age and the time we were together meant more, or maybe I was finally old enough to take part in those adventures, or sadly, maybe because it was the last year Grandma was healthy enough to enjoy life with me. Regardless, many memories from that year are as vivid as watching a movie today. I can pause and rewind, but I never fast forward out of fear that I may miss out on an important detail or lose that memory forever. 

One summer morning we got up long before the rest of the world. It was still dark; the streets were empty and quiet, and the streetlights were still on. There was a slight chill in the fresh morning air, and I could feel moisture as the dew settled over the land. We were embarking on a long bicycle ride, seven miles to the next town, just to eat breakfast at Betty’s Diner then to ride back home. There was no particular agenda - just riding, eating, and spending time together. This was the way we liked it.

Later that same summer, Grandma was heading to Gatlinburg, Tennessee, with my aunt, uncle, and their four children. I couldn’t stand the thought of her being gone for a whole week without me. The night before they left, in a last-minute plea, I convinced Grandma, and then Mom, to allow me to go. The deal was that any money Grandma spent on me would be repaid by doing chores around her house over the remainder of the summer. Of course I agreed with much seriousness at first, but the excitement got the best of me and out came the burst of giggles and episodes of jumping for joy and squealing like only a young girl can do.

The excitement ended abruptly when we loaded the small station wagon: three adults, two teenagers, and three young children plus luggage. This 800-mile trip was not what I had imagined. I sat in the backseat with my uncle and teenage cousin while my younger cousins laid on the luggage in the far back. They were miserable and, in their high-pitched squeaky voices, announced it to the entire car every few minutes. 

By the time we arrived in Gatlinburg my sense of adventure was gone, but Grandma’s had just kicked into high gear.  We spent that week camping, eating out, enjoying life, and attending a church convention in the evenings. Out of sheer exhaustion from the activities of each day, I slept through most of the evening services.

The last day came, and I was sad to be heading home, partly because of the trip back and partly because my adventure with Grandma was coming to an end. Throughout the week we would walk through the convention exhibits where there was a particular Bible that I had been scoping out. I can’t remember what was special about it, but for some reason I wanted it more than I had ever wanted anything! One must understand that as a granddaughter of pastors and with parents who were very involved in the church, my wanting a new Bible would not be considered unusual. It seemed that I spent hours at the book table looking this Bible over: maroon soft leather cover and fresh, clean, untouched pages with gold trim. This would be the first Bible that was my very own, not a hand-me-down. I just knew in my heart of hearts that getting this book would change my life forever. 

Grandma said that $40 was a bit much to spend on a Bible for me, but I just had to have it. I begged and pleaded, and when that didn’t work, I made another deal. “If I stay awake tonight during service, can I get this Bible?” I asked. Grandma seemed pleased with this since I hadn’t stayed awake a single service that week. She agreed under one stipulation; I would have to do extra chores to pay her back. This time I skipped the serious agreement and went straight to the jumping and squealing. I stayed awake that night, just as I had promised, and left the next morning with a wonderful keepsake from our adventure together.

Once we arrived home and settled in, I kept my word and did chores to pay Grandma back. We agreed that I would receive so much per hour and between cleaning house and yard work I eventually covered all expenses. What I didn’t realize at the time was that she was actually teaching me to be responsible and the value of working for something I wanted. Ironically, the Bible that I couldn’t live without was lost at a weekend retreat before the end of the year and never found again.

Looking back on that and the other adventures with Grandma has become priceless. The next summer took a dramatic turn for our adventures. Grandma became ill and, due to lack of oxygen and bad medication, suffered brain damage that forever changed who she was. A sad longing gaze replaced the sparkle in her eyes, almost as if she knew life would never hold the vigor it once did. She was lost and was never found again. After several years of uneventful living, Grandma’s finale adventure began in April 1995, when she passed from this world into eternity.

I am forever grateful for all the precious memories, and that she, in her own words, wanted “to be the fun grandma.” She taught me how to be young at heart at any age and how to find joy even in the hard times. My grandma showed me how to live life to the fullest and, whether large or small, to always look for the next adventure.