sweetest name i know
All of my biological grandparents have been gone for a while now. I wish I could tell you that they were all amazing, that they all made a positive and loving impact in my life and, except for my maternal grandfather who I have fleeting yet sweet memories of, nothing could be further from the truth for me. We don’t get to choose our family though, do we, and at some point, there comes the realization that they did the best they could with what they knew. Not that this makes things easier to swallow, but it can allow for moving forward with grace and forgiveness. Nevertheless, one of the things I’ve learned in my life and have come to love about it is that family can show up in myriad ways and one of the most precious for me was in Lavina Reimche…my Gramma Vina.
Lavina was the mother of my mom’s best friend whom she’s had since the 7th grade. She was married to Hank and had two daughters, four granddaughters, 6 grandchildren, 1 great-grandchild and she LOVED Jesus. I have the fondest memories of her and though I wasn’t her granddaughter by blood, she always treated me as if I was. Her oldest granddaughter and I are only 3 years apart, so we often played together at her house or slept over, which always felt like an adventure! Gramma’s Swedish meatballs and rice for dinner, the Lawrence Welk show before bed (where the lovely Bobby and Sissy would dance the polka for us if we were lucky), into the pink and white tiled bathroom with the etched swan on the shower door, to change into pajamas and brush our teeth using their tooth powder. Up at 5 am to sit at her tiny kitchen table and eat oatmeal and plan the day which usually ended up with the making of mud pies in the back yard – which seemed enormous – and then wrapping ourselves up in old sheets to play brides or princesses, our hands filled with begonias from her planter boxes. She had beautiful writing, she took TONS of pictures (earning her the name of Grandma Kodak), she mailed cards, and she recorded memories. And throughout the years, she was there for me in ways that no one else ever was. She gently guided. She counseled. She understood.
Still, the sweetest memories that I have of her are of the times when she and Grandpa Hank would take us to church. They were Old German Baptists and congregated on Saturdays. I’m sure we were in Sunday school while they were in church, but I have no memory of it. What I do remember is there always being a potluck after services. Everyone met in a big, light-filled room that smelled of percolating coffee, various and sundry casseroles, and body odor which, I know, doesn’t sound like the best sensory experience but was somehow comforting.
After lunch, grandma and grandpa went back into the sanctuary for choir practice and we’d sit in the pews to listen and draw on tithe envelopes with mini pencils. Except for the pitch pipe which preceded every song, there were no instruments used and the sound of their acapella voices filled the sanctuary. I know now what I couldn’t tell you then which is this…God gave me Lavina to hold my young heart, to surround me with His love, to speak to me through song, and while I enjoy a lot of the contemporary Christian music that’s out now, it’s from those times that I developed a lifelong love of the old hymns. It’s when I learned that family could mean something different and beautiful. It’s when I learned to keep singing.
There's within my heart a melody Jesus whispers sweet and low, Fear not, I am with thee, peace, be still In all of life's ebb and flow.
Jesus, Jesus, Jesus Sweetest Name I know Fills my every longing Keeps me singing as I go.
