English Compass - bringing christian fellowship to korean americans

A Heart for her Grandson

I have a grandma. She’s white. She’s almost 90 years old. I was baptized at 22, in a multicultural church in New Orleans; she was there.

She’s rather tall. Has a shock of white hair; always full of energy, always knitting a blanket or a hat for someone. She led a ministry where she wrote letters and mailed gifts to prison inmates.

She makes the best veggie meatballs. Sometimes we’d hang out at her house. Whenever she’d pack us food, she’d use these white Daisy brand sour cream containers. She was born in the Depression.

After Hurricane Katrina hit, I moved away and she went to Houston. We haven’t kept in touch much. Since we last met, my life has become more complicated. I have an iphone. My calendar is full of appointments. But her life has become simpler. She sits at home all day by the TV, waiting for a phone call.

I tell her I’ll make it for lunch, but something comes up. I end up calling her at 5:30 and tell her I’ll be late for dinner. I’m cutting off cars along the Houston tollway but I hear her voice: “Take your time. I just want you to be safe.” I’m worried about meeting deadlines, but she just cares about me.

Her house is immaculate, as always. She never did like dust or bugs in her house. Besides keeping it clean and doing some knitting and crocheting, she doesn’t have a whole lot to do at home. It’s not the productive life that I’m used to. She talks slowly. I’m not used to sitting down and talking for hours. It takes all my energy to not check my phone. My mind keeps drifting to my email and to-do list.

Before I go to bed, she tells me: “Wake me up so I can make you breakfast.”

I wake up early to do work, but I don't leave my room. She finally calls me out of the room at 10:30am. After breakfast, I go back to my room to do more work.

I came all the way to Houston to see her, but I’m not even spending time with her! But after living in a city for so long, I don’t know what to do with her! There’s no event we can go to. She doesn’t like to leave the house much. And I’m not used to having long conversations. Finally my guilt overwhelms me and I leave my room. I have an idea: “Let’s take a walk, granny!”

We reach the end of the block. We turn around and go down to the cul-de-sac. She grabs my arm. She’s tired. I tell her: “Granny, you should take walks like this more often.” But I realize there’s nobody who can help her, in case she falls. She can’t walk by herself.

We’re back at the house. She wants to pack me a lot of snacks for the road. But I’m already late for a dinner appointment in Dallas so I rush out the door. But she puts something in my hand as I leave. It’s a $100 bill! “Just a little gas money,” she says. I don't want to accept it. I have my own money; I can buy my own food. I don’t need to have my grandma cook for me. It probably took her all day to cook dinner for me, and she has a bad back.

Let's face it: my time is scarce, and I don't have much to give her. But she has all the time in the world to give me. I came here to spend time with my grandma as efficiently as possible, in and out in a day. But she’s been sitting here waiting for me to visit for years. And even though 20 hours is all I gave her, she took it gratefully. And she gives me something, too.

So I take that hundred-dollar bill from her. Being so busy, it’s nothing but paper to me. But to her, that $100 bill is her heart for her grandson.

After this trip, I’m going to make a note on my phone to call her. I’m going to sit down and write a card and mail it to her. It's only 10 minutes of my time and it's only 3 dollars for the card and $.46 for the stamp. There’re a million things calling for my attention. But my grandma is waiting patiently by her phone, checking her mailbox everyday, thinking of me.

Pastor Chris Choi is a graduate of Andrews Theological SDA Seminary. He has been a youth pastor of 3 Korean churches, and a missionary with the Adventist Frontier Missions in Laos.