Grandma?
================
I hate Mondays. Today was no exception since it was a cloudy
day with rain in the forecast. Mondays are wash days. I enjoy
hanging my linens on the line in the sun. To top it off, I was
beginning to feel the onslaught of an allergy attack, which
would certainly be worsened by the dryer running most of the
morning.
My self-pitying thoughts were interrupted by the ringing of the
telephone back in the other side of the house. "Here it is
7:30 a.m. and someone is calling," I said to myself as I tripped
over the dog first and then the cat on my way to answer the phone.
"Hello," I said in a somewhat hoarse but unfriendly voice.
"Grandma?" came the retort.
My heart swelled immediately, and I took in a quick sigh of
relief before I replied. My grandson Noah is in the Marines
and has been stationed in Baghdad but had been given just hours
to pack up and get ready to return to the states. A few hours
later, they cancelled those orders and ordered them back to
Baghdad for an unknown amount of time. My son and his wife
were, as I was, worried about him and anxious to have him home.
With all this running through my head, I finally answered the
voice on the phone with eagerness, "Hey, Sweetheart, where are you?"
"I'm on the way to visit you," came the reply.
"Are you serious?" I asked in disbelief, "Where are you now?"
"I just left Fort Smith and am heading to Fort Sill with one of
my buddies who lives there. We are traveling in his car."
"Fort Smith? Fort Sill?" came my retort. I was confused since
he would have been returning to Camp Pendleton, a Marine base,
not an Army base. I said, "Why would you go there?"
There was a pause on the line and I feared I had lost the
connection but finally there was an unsure, "Is Margaret there?"
"No, there is no Margaret here. Who is Margaret?" I replied as
my heart fell.
"Uh,er...uh, I know you won't believe me but I am in an
automobile traveling to visit my Grandmother and I have her
number on my speed dial. I pushed it and got you. I don't know
how it happened but believe me, I am sorry," the young voice
said at the other end of the line.
"Well, you may not believe me," I replied, "but I have a
grandson who sounds just like you on the phone and always starts
out by saying, Grandma when he calls me. I wanted it to be him
more than you can know.
He has been in Kuwait City then Baghdad and then in Iran waiting
for orders to come home. He got them last week and was ready to
leave and they sent his platoon back to Baghdad. He is a Marine
from Camp Pendleton but lives in Fort Worth," I explained.
"This may be a wrong number," I continued, "but it gives me a
chance to say something to you I would like to say to all
soldiers who have been involved in this war and the frightening
weeks since.
We are all proud of you, one and all, and our hearts have been
praying for you daily and always thinking of your bravery and the
wonderful job you are all doing."
"You may not be my grandson but you are some lucky people's
grandson who probably think the same way I do. I am glad you
called, even if it was a wrong number. I felt closer to my
Noah through hearing your voice," I told him.
"Ma'am," came his reply, "I don't understand some of the things
that happen in this world. I have never gotten a wrong number
on my speed dial before, particularly to another grandmother.
I am more religious since being in Iraq. I have come to know
about faith first hand for the first time in my life. One thing
that has stood out clear among the soldiers I am stationed with
is that it is faith that gets us home. I kinda feel perhaps
there was a reason for this call going to you. It gives me a
chance to tell you a few things.
I was also stationed in Baghdad, also waited for orders to
return home, also was sent back to Baghdad, and now, finally
I am heading home. I am in the Army, however. I am only 20 and
dreamed of being a soldier for a long time. It is different
from how I imagined it, and I have had to grow up a lot.
Perhaps this call came to you as a message from your grandson
saying he will also return home safely in the near future."
"I really believe that," I told him. "I heard his voice in you
and it gave me joy. It will always be a special call to remember."
"By the way," he said, "while we are still connected, let me say
thanks to you and all the other grandparents, parents, siblings,
friends and strangers who sent the many cards, pictures,
supplies and well wishes and prayers to us all. We were working
for one cause, together, no matter what branch of the military.
It was the folks at home who got us through and will get your
grandson through."
"Thank you, for what you have done, for your wonderful attitude
and for your call. It has made me relieved, happy and touched,"
I told him. "Now, call your grandmother and tell her she has a
wonderful grandson."
Again, he said thanks and the call ended.
My morning became special.
I sat in the chair for a while and tears flowed from my eyes and
my heart. Tears of every emotion you can imagine. I first felt
ashamed for being in a bad mood this morning.
Second, I felt as if I had actually heard from my beloved
grandson. I felt an overwhelming pride for those young and not
so young soldiers and the hardships they endure for strangers.
The risks they take in the name of freedom. I cried a few extra
tears for two 20-year-old babies/wise men who, through a wrong
connection on a cell phone blended into one for a few minutes
to give an aging grandmother a light heart and a warm feeling of
being touched by the spirit of all life.
As I found solace in the events of the morning, I realized I
didn't even think of asking for his name. For a second I was
upset by this but then I realized, it was meant to be this way.
Now he will always be a voice saying, "Grandma?" and I will
always be that grandma saying, "Where are you?"
Life is sweeter on Mondays now.
Written by MountainWings subscriber, Nancy Campbell, Fort Worth, TX
================
I hate Mondays. Today was no exception since it was a cloudy
day with rain in the forecast. Mondays are wash days. I enjoy
hanging my linens on the line in the sun. To top it off, I was
beginning to feel the onslaught of an allergy attack, which
would certainly be worsened by the dryer running most of the
morning.
My self-pitying thoughts were interrupted by the ringing of the
telephone back in the other side of the house. "Here it is
7:30 a.m. and someone is calling," I said to myself as I tripped
over the dog first and then the cat on my way to answer the phone.
"Hello," I said in a somewhat hoarse but unfriendly voice.
"Grandma?" came the retort.
My heart swelled immediately, and I took in a quick sigh of
relief before I replied. My grandson Noah is in the Marines
and has been stationed in Baghdad but had been given just hours
to pack up and get ready to return to the states. A few hours
later, they cancelled those orders and ordered them back to
Baghdad for an unknown amount of time. My son and his wife
were, as I was, worried about him and anxious to have him home.
With all this running through my head, I finally answered the
voice on the phone with eagerness, "Hey, Sweetheart, where are you?"
"I'm on the way to visit you," came the reply.
"Are you serious?" I asked in disbelief, "Where are you now?"
"I just left Fort Smith and am heading to Fort Sill with one of
my buddies who lives there. We are traveling in his car."
"Fort Smith? Fort Sill?" came my retort. I was confused since
he would have been returning to Camp Pendleton, a Marine base,
not an Army base. I said, "Why would you go there?"
There was a pause on the line and I feared I had lost the
connection but finally there was an unsure, "Is Margaret there?"
"No, there is no Margaret here. Who is Margaret?" I replied as
my heart fell.
"Uh,er...uh, I know you won't believe me but I am in an
automobile traveling to visit my Grandmother and I have her
number on my speed dial. I pushed it and got you. I don't know
how it happened but believe me, I am sorry," the young voice
said at the other end of the line.
"Well, you may not believe me," I replied, "but I have a
grandson who sounds just like you on the phone and always starts
out by saying, Grandma when he calls me. I wanted it to be him
more than you can know.
He has been in Kuwait City then Baghdad and then in Iran waiting
for orders to come home. He got them last week and was ready to
leave and they sent his platoon back to Baghdad. He is a Marine
from Camp Pendleton but lives in Fort Worth," I explained.
"This may be a wrong number," I continued, "but it gives me a
chance to say something to you I would like to say to all
soldiers who have been involved in this war and the frightening
weeks since.
We are all proud of you, one and all, and our hearts have been
praying for you daily and always thinking of your bravery and the
wonderful job you are all doing."
"You may not be my grandson but you are some lucky people's
grandson who probably think the same way I do. I am glad you
called, even if it was a wrong number. I felt closer to my
Noah through hearing your voice," I told him.
"Ma'am," came his reply, "I don't understand some of the things
that happen in this world. I have never gotten a wrong number
on my speed dial before, particularly to another grandmother.
I am more religious since being in Iraq. I have come to know
about faith first hand for the first time in my life. One thing
that has stood out clear among the soldiers I am stationed with
is that it is faith that gets us home. I kinda feel perhaps
there was a reason for this call going to you. It gives me a
chance to tell you a few things.
I was also stationed in Baghdad, also waited for orders to
return home, also was sent back to Baghdad, and now, finally
I am heading home. I am in the Army, however. I am only 20 and
dreamed of being a soldier for a long time. It is different
from how I imagined it, and I have had to grow up a lot.
Perhaps this call came to you as a message from your grandson
saying he will also return home safely in the near future."
"I really believe that," I told him. "I heard his voice in you
and it gave me joy. It will always be a special call to remember."
"By the way," he said, "while we are still connected, let me say
thanks to you and all the other grandparents, parents, siblings,
friends and strangers who sent the many cards, pictures,
supplies and well wishes and prayers to us all. We were working
for one cause, together, no matter what branch of the military.
It was the folks at home who got us through and will get your
grandson through."
"Thank you, for what you have done, for your wonderful attitude
and for your call. It has made me relieved, happy and touched,"
I told him. "Now, call your grandmother and tell her she has a
wonderful grandson."
Again, he said thanks and the call ended.
My morning became special.
I sat in the chair for a while and tears flowed from my eyes and
my heart. Tears of every emotion you can imagine. I first felt
ashamed for being in a bad mood this morning.
Second, I felt as if I had actually heard from my beloved
grandson. I felt an overwhelming pride for those young and not
so young soldiers and the hardships they endure for strangers.
The risks they take in the name of freedom. I cried a few extra
tears for two 20-year-old babies/wise men who, through a wrong
connection on a cell phone blended into one for a few minutes
to give an aging grandmother a light heart and a warm feeling of
being touched by the spirit of all life.
As I found solace in the events of the morning, I realized I
didn't even think of asking for his name. For a second I was
upset by this but then I realized, it was meant to be this way.
Now he will always be a voice saying, "Grandma?" and I will
always be that grandma saying, "Where are you?"
Life is sweeter on Mondays now.
Written by MountainWings subscriber, Nancy Campbell, Fort Worth, TX
