A Norwegian Grandmother

    My 90-year-old father-in-law wrote a little periodical for his grandchildren called The Tarpaper Shack.  He wanted to pass along his legacy of wisdom about living for God in a Godless world.  Some of his favorite thoughts were: "Love chooses to understand."  "Choose off the top shelf."  "Marry up."  Ask yourself, "Is this young man you're about to marry God's answer to prayer for you?"  "Find someone who can fly with you."  "My dad was an arguer.  He had to win every argument with my mother.  So, my dad won the argument, but my mother won me!"  Some of these thoughts are his own, some he "borrowed," but all are food for thought.

    I thought I would pull out the following thought and share it with you.  You see, I know two young ladies who are about to get married within weeks of each other and I believe they and many others could benefit from my father-in-law's insights.  So, the rest of this post is filled with his words, not mine.  After reading these thoughts, make a comment.  He has always thrived on conversation, gentle disagreements and the sharing of thoughts.  If something in here upsets you, take a deep breath, then tell the rest of us why.  If something prompts a different possibility, let the rest of us in on it.  So, here's Papa's October 3, 1976 missive entitled Norwegian Grandmother.

Marianne Gregine Ingebrigtsdt

     I never saw my mother's mother but I got to know about her from my mother's accounts of life in their small village in the north of Norway near Tromso.  Life was hard for those poor farmers as they tried to eke a livelihood out of  reluctant and rocky soil.  Mom tells of a typical day at their house.  Her mother got up very early in the morning, roused the teenage girls, built the fires and put on the vegetables to cook in big pots for the livestock.  Then Mother and the girls carried the fodder down to the barn which had rock walls three feet thick to keep out the biting cold.  All of the cows, and even the sheep, had names and the children could recognize each one.  After the cattle and sheep were fed, Mother and the girls milked the cows and took care of the milk.  Then they went back up to the house to start breakfast and put on the coffee.  When breakfast was about ready and the aroma of coffee filled the house, Mother went in to the bedroom to rouse the master and and ask him if he'd care to come to breakfast!

      Can't you just imagine the screams of laughter or outrage that would erupt from some of the over-emancipated girls of our day?  "Slavery!" they would cry.  "Male chauvinist pig!" they would shout.  They would leave no stone unturned to discover a label for that lazy male who stayed in bed while his wife and daughters milked those cows!

        But as Mama told about her mother and herself as she did those chores it was without rancor or complaint.  She didn't see it as unfair or cruel.  Grandma loved and respected her husband, so did all the children growing up in that well-ordered home.  Grandma, far from protesting about her sad lot in life, was proud of her family; proud of the household that she ran so well.  She had found a man worth loving and she loved him.  She would have fought the Philistines for him, so she didn't mind working hard for him.  Incidentally, Grandpa was no lazy lout.  He put in twelve or more hours a day in hard labor in the fields and still had time for storytelling, reading the Bible, and praying.  There was lots of laughing, eating and singing (on key) in that home.  The hard work was just a necessary part of life in those days.

        I don't waste my time commiserating about my grandma, now long gone--I see a sorrier sight.  I see empty-headed and empty-hearted wives of today for whom my heart really aches.  They don't have a family like Grandma had.  They don't have a man who they can respect, work for and fight for like Grandma had.  I think they would gladly give up some of their freedoms (mostly mythical) and luxuries for a little bit of decency and order in their lives.  I think that what they really crave is appreciation and respect.  Grandma didn't have electric lights, luxuries and ease, but she had a home where love prevailed and joy was known.

         Long before I read Proverbs 31 and understood what it said about that virtuous woman with all those abilities, I sensed its truth in the stories my mother told me about Grandma.  What's the matter with woman today who do nothing but complain?  Such malcontents miss the thrust of that competent and happy woman in Proverbs 31.  Is she the abject slave or her husband?  Is she supporting a lazy incompetent?  Not at all!  That woman in Proverbs and my mom and others very close to me have discovered what all these miserable modern women are still looking for in a futile search.  When you love someone in the deepest recesses of your heart, no work is too hard, no risk is too great, no investment too costly, no word too eloquent or tender to convey the love of your heart!

        Grandma in Norway, I never knew you.  But you'd be proud of some of the girls I know who sprang from your loins.  They still don't mind working very hard.  They're still proud to run a well-ordered household, and they still don't mind rousing the master to inform him that breakfast is ready!

        And what great reward do they get for that great effort?  Just a word from Daddy once in a while, "Mommy, you're the greatest!"