Memories of My Grandma

On a mild October day in 1927, God gave the world a precious gift in the form of a baby girl named Joyce. He broke the mold after He formed her; there has never been, nor will there ever be, another person quite like my grandma.

The name Joyce means “happy, cheerful, merry,” and my great-grandparents couldn’t have chosen a more perfect name for her. No matter her circumstances, she could always find joy. It must have been an intentional choice at some point in her life, because most people would have given up on joy after some of the things she endured. But not my grandma.

Just a few days shy of my grandma’s second birthday, her mother was unexpectedly called to Heaven, leaving behind four little girls. When her father remarried six months later, the children did not join him in his new home, but were separated from each other and taken in by relatives. My grandma and her oldest sister were raised by their grandparents.

My grandma loved her grandparents dearly, but theirs was not always a happy home for her. Her grandfather struggled with a mental illness that we now believe may have been bipolar disorder. Back then, there weren’t a lot of treatment options and not much was known about how to manage mental health issues. He never physically hurt her, but he did sometimes wound her emotionally. Whenever she would talk about it, she was always quick to come to his defense – he never meant to hurt her, but he had an illness. And she would describe her childhood as “wonderful.” She chose to love and forgive her dad and grandpa, and she chose joy in spite of it all.

When she was just 14, she started dating George Kirkland. She used to tell us that when she first met him, she didn’t like him. She thought he was “stuck up.” (That always made me smile, because if you knew my grandpa, you know he was anything but stuck up!) Fortunately, her feelings for him changed, and they were married on June 22, 1945. She was 17; he was 24. Until my grandpa passed away in 1999, they were an incredible example to me of what a Christ-centered marriage looks like. I don’t think I’ve ever known two people who loved each other the way they did.

In the early years of their marriage, George worked alongside his father as a full-time farmer at the Jones Farm in Deerfield. My grandparents shared a house with my great-grandparents, and my grandma remembered hanging curtains to divide the house for privacy. The house had been prepared for an indoor toilet, but it wasn’t working yet, so they turned it into a sink for their half of the house.

Donnie (my dad) was born while they were still living and working on the Jones farm. Shortly after my great-grandparents left to begin their own fruit farm, my grandparents also left and built a home in Perry. My grandpa accepted a job in maintenance at Michigan State University, and my grandma went to work for Montgomery Ward. She also worked at JC Penney for a short time. They became active members of Perry Baptist Church, and their faith in Christ guided everything they did. God blessed my grandparents with two more children, my aunts, Denise and Darci. My dad was 9 years old when Denise was born, and Darci came along when he was 21.

My grandma had a deep love for people that exemplified the love of Christ. I’ve never encountered another person who loved as fully and unconditionally as my grandma. I think that’s probably what inspired her to receive training and become a medical assistant. It was a perfect position for her, because she could talk with people and encourage them, and she had a special way of making them feel comfortable in the doctor’s office. And when she gave us our shots, it didn’t even hurt!

Whenever my grandma was in a store and we were waiting for her in the car, we would joke that she was probably telling the cashier her life story. We would laugh about it, but the truth is, she had a gift of communication. She was willing to share her life in a real, authentic way with people. But she didn’t just talk. She was also a great listener and a great encourager. She cared about people and made it her mission to bring them joy. Her home was always open to guests, and she made everyone feel welcome. She easily forgave a person’s faults, because she was more concerned about whether that person had a personal relationship with Jesus Christ. In fact, if we ever said anything negative about someone, she would gently remind us that God loved that person, and he or she had a soul just like everyone else.

Even more than she loved people, my Grandma loved Jesus. I’m sure that’s why she loved people the way she did. She was being Christ-like. It’s also why she could find joy no matter what was going on in her life. She looked for the good in every circumstance and believed God’s promise to work all things together for our good. In Philippians 4:8, Paul tells us, “whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable—if anything is excellent or praiseworthy—think about such things.” That’s just what my grandma did. Through the loss of my grandpa, moving out of their home in Perry, a stroke, the loss of my dad and mom, and continued health problems, she fixed her eyes on Jesus. Oh, she grieved, and I’m sure there were times when she even asked why. But her joy came from her love for Jesus, and her confidence in His love for her, and that was never shaken. Heaven only knows how many people’s lives she impacted.

I’m sure that’s what made her house such a fun place to be. I have so many fond memories at that big, white house. Our favorite Saturdays were the ones we spent at Grandma and Grandpa’s house, eating jelly donuts or pancakes (my grandpa could make any shape you asked for) and watching Bugs Bunny and Michigan State football. We loved swimming in the pool in the summer time, even when the water was so cold our lips were turning blue. And there was always music there. My grandma was always singing – hymns and songs of praise to her Jesus. The best evenings were the ones when my grandpa would get out his guitar and harmonica, and my dad would join him. Even my great-grandma played the harmonica, and Grandma would sing. We would dance around the living room to hymns and old country songs like “Red River Valley.” It just didn’t get any better than that.

There are so many other things I could say about my grandma. She was always there for us, coming to all our important events, taking us school shopping, and saying bedtime prayers with us whenever she could. We always looked forward to the times my grandma and grandpa could go camping with us. She would have done anything for us, even if it required sacrifice. And she would have been glad to do it. She taught me so much, believed in me, and encouraged me. I wouldn’t be who I am today without her.

My grandma blessed so many people in her life. I was just one of the few lucky ones who got to call her “Gram.”