I come from a family of strong women.

My Great Grandmother Townsend was a minister’s wife. She died when I was in my early 20s. I have precious memories of her. She lived in a small white house that had beautiful purple and yellow pansies under a window in her yard. The front ditch had water skipper spiders and the great grandkids waded in it. Great Grandma was vertically challenged — okay, she was short. It was an event: measuring to see who was taller — the grandchild or the grandmother. I was 10 or so when I grew taller than she; and she laughed. Her house always smelled really good and when I was there, I felt safe and welcome. I felt as though I belonged. The extended family would have picnics in her small town in a park across the street from her tiny house. The memories are priceless.

My mom’s mom, Grandma Addington lived with mom and I after my parents divorced. As a young woman she was burned and lost mobility in her arm. She learned to crochet as a means of restoring some of that mobility. Believe me, she was an artist with a crochet hook and crochet thread. One summer, when I was a young girl, I spent several days with Grandma and her friend in Albuquerque, NM. Grandma bought me a hula hoop. (Is that how you spell that?) Patience was definitely Grandmas’a virtue that summer — she let me hula hoop in the living room almost all day, every day.

Grandma Prottenguier came into our family when I was 12. She welcomed me not only into her home, but into her heart. I felt at home when I was with her and Grandpa. I use to take Grandma flowers and she always treated them as though they were a treasure beyond compare. She listened to me and was understanding of my feelings as a young teenager. I treasure pictures of her holding our oldest son. She died a few short months later.

Grandma Pribbenow, my dad’s mom, is an amazing woman. She turned 100 years old on July 5, 2013. Her mother apparently said that she was so thankful that Allene had been born on the 5th rather than the 4th, because she didn’t want her daughter to be a firecracker. However, the stories I hear of my Grandmother tell me that Great Grandma was mistaken — her daughter was a firecracker. Grandma left home as a teenager to marry my Grandfather Arndt. She raised her children basically alone. An artisan, she crafted small furniture, made “china” for her grand daughters out of clorox bottles and she hand painted flowers on each plate/dish, and painted amazing pictures of beautiful landscapes and flowers. One of my treasures is rocking chair made from a can with blue velvet upholstery. She made cookies; and she taught me to make cinnamon rolls.

Each of these women were amazingly strong, beautiful, and loving. Besides being able to claim me as a granddaughter (smile), these four women shared another valuable trait that I believe made all the difference in their lives and in the lives of their families. You see, they loved God and served Him with all their hearts. They prayed for their children and grandchildren. They provide a heritage of strength and faith. My life is richer because of them, their love, and their investment in my life. Truly, I am blessed.