Like I mentioned in previous posts, I’m escorting grandma east to the family reunion. She’s all of ninety some-odd years old. A strong willed farm woman from back in the day. Still sharp and plenty stubborn, especially given her years.

In the long drives between states, she regales me with stories of growing up on the farm. She tells me about the family, community, and generations past. Where all them ancestors come from and how they managed. In listening to all the tales, I cannot help but measure emy experiences against them. And upon review, what I thought was important is less significant. And perfections in my teensy life become trivial. I am thusly humbled. And relieved.

There is plenty from my past environment and genetics that have a huge unconscious influence on my choices. All the fables from farms’ past tell me much about today’s foibles. The past family have been living adventures similar to mine a hundred years before I existed. And here I am with a clenched butt-hole harshly chastising myself for not having everything perfect. For not being perfect. Hell, betcha that insecurity isn’t even mine. Inherited perfectionism from Grandpa Hal as he crossed wintery Appalachia lo’ those centuries ago.

Rounding back to the present, when I’m not obsessing about me, it’s granny. Her strong will can get away from her. She pushes herself too hard. After pushing too hard, she hits the wall and I gotta catch her. Sounds familiar.

That decade of working in healthcare really shines given the circumstances. I’m able to gauge her fatigue a little sooner than she, when she’s struggling to put together a thought, I can intuit the gist. When shes taking that long shower, or nodding off. I can take advantage of that time to take care of my needs. I feel like I shine as a servant, and I have a respect for the humility that takes. Today I learned humility is an underrated skill.

You’ll all have to excuse the garbled nature of this post. I don’t have much time to downshift into the meditative state to give us all a nice blogging experience. I kinda have to punch this up all on the run. I’m hoping the raw honesty of it all compensates for the scattered pieces. You know, the charm.