In a previous blog, I described memories of my Grandmother
Martin. Recently, when reading an excerpt from Richard Foster’s Freedom of Simplicity, I was reminded
again of the simple life my grandmother lived. Yet in that simplicity, there
was profound meaning, joy, and peace. The world we live in could use more of
that.
One example of Grandmother’s simplicity was how she
entertained the grandchildren and great-grandchildren who came to visit. She
had a wooden footstool with an upholstered hinged lid, and a storage space
inside the footstool. It only measured 15” by 15”, but it held a few basic
items that all the youngsters who came to visit played with contentedly,
sometimes for hours.
An empty wooden spool for thread, an aluminum teacup, a
baseball, a ball and jacks set, some scattered marbles . . . those were some of
the toys we found inside. The stool was on wheels, so it was moved to different
places in the living room of Grandmother’s tiny house—but each child who walked
through her front door instinctively knew where to find it, and would be drawn
to it like an invisible magnet.
I remember crouching down on the linoleum floor, lifting the
creaky lid, and finding all the familiar, modest toys inside—“playthings” or
“play-pretties” as Grandmother called them. I would pull them out, one by one,
and enter into imaginative play while the adults talked. Sometimes, there would
be a new item inside the stool—a yo-yo or a top, or some other small trinket.
But always, there were jacks and marbles because those were prized toys to
children in earlier generations, and Grandmother knew they would be a hit.
On occasions when I stayed overnight with Grandmother, I was
entertained by other simple joys. She had an old stereograph and a series of
photo slides that I would sit and gaze through for hours. They were a precursor
to the Viewmaster pictures, and perhaps the ancestor to Powerpoint
presentations or iPad slideshows.
Young folks today enjoy handheld video games, and other
games on iPods and iPads. Grandmother entertained me with a game of dominoes or
a trip outside to the well-house in the back yard, where I would hold the fuzzy
yellow baby chicks she raised. We picked up pecans under the huge trees in her
yard, or harvested fruit and berries in her garden. Often we sat, looking at
old photo albums, with her telling me about the people in the long-ago photos,
recalling stories from her past.
Grandmother never owned a television, but read books
instead. She didn’t own a car and had never learned to drive, preferring to
walk wherever she needed to go. An unpretentious life, filled with simple joys
and pleasures.
“Sure, but it was
another time and place, and that’s not realistic or even possible in the 21st
Century.” Really? I believe we can still find ways to simplify our lives
and establish priorities based on the things we value most. If we truly desire
a simpler life, there are ways we can be intentional about achieving the
balanced life we want. Do you crave a simpler life too?
