Especially Gardenias
The sweet aroma of gardenias on a warm summer day takes me
back to a little house in South
Carolina where my grandmother once lived. The yard of her cottage style home nestled in
the Carolina
pines, was filled with flowers. To this day, flowers remind me of her.
Sometimes the smell of pine trees, or roses, or camellias will take me back –
but especially gardenias.
My grandmother was born in 1890. Not even five feet tall,
she was a petit beauty with deep blue eyes and a contagious laugh. Once while
visiting a zoo; she drew quite a crowd when she laughed at a parrot who parroted
her laughter back at her. This caused her to laugh all the more causing the
parrot to mimic her again. The cycle continued for quite a while. They were the
zoo’s biggest attraction that day.
In 1911, she married my grandfather, a country doctor who
could not afford an engagement ring. His bride wore a plain gold band. Twenty
one years later he surprised her with a diamond ring. He had scrimped and saved
for years!
Life was not easy for her. Her oldest child, a son, became
progressively crippled. No one knew why. Even his father, the physician, was
stumped. My grandmother watched as her first born began to decline as a
teenager. She stood bravely beside him, as he lost his ability to walk, became
wheelchair bound, and eventually died at the age of 28. Later, her husband too
died from a heart attack leaving her a widow with one child still at home.
In 1956, my parents became foreign missionaries to Africa. Shortly afterwards, my grandmother was diagnosed
with a serious disease. When, I was born and given my grandmother’s name, there
was no quick way to get news from Africa to the US in those days. But the news
arrived at the best possible moment.
She was lying in a hospital bed. Her usual chipper, in love
with life, personality was uncharacteristically despondent. She was alone when
there was a knock on her door. In walked a nurse with a letter in her hand…
from Africa! Her mood lifted immediately and
she made a decision. To that baby, born half a world away in the jungles of Africa, her namesake, she would leave her diamond
engagement ring.
I have vivid memories of this lovely woman for whom I am
named. I remember her laughter. Visiting her was a delightful treat! She told
stories, read adventure books, sang songs, and let us push her wheelchair
around her beautiful, flower filled yard. And Oh! – The flowers! Roses,
daisies, carnations, camellias, and gardenias – especially gardenias!
As I write this, I look at my ring. It’s a brilliant cut
diamond set in an antique, “Old Mine” setting. I look at the ring and think of
the woman who gave it to me. And then I remember her laughter and her flowers –
especially gardenias!
