Our Nana
It became a silly game among us. An innocent competition with hidden truth and obvious jest. Whose Nana is she? Who loves her the most? Who’s her favorite? We would taunt each other – ‘She’s my Nana’ – and act as if she could be claimed by one. When in reality, she was God’s gift to us all.
Ann Schoenewolff is a beautiful woman who graced
us all with her incredibly full life on earth. She began her journey at the end
of the Great War, grew up during the Great Depression, married her soulmate,
and carried on to have four wonderful children. She watched America enter
countless wars and her husband battle cancer. She helped raise grandchildren
and great grandchildren.
In her 95 years, she lived quite a life.
However, the praise not only goes to the life she fulfilled but to the legacy
she leaves behind. Our Nana has a selfless soul who gave and gave and never
asked anything in return. She offered unconditional love and bran muffins. She
prayed for everyone as well as her lawn.
Nana was my savior in every way. She raised me
when I was young. Housed me when I needed a home. Provided for me when I was in
debt. Prayed for me when I was at my worst and loved me when I least deserved
it.
Anytime you entered her home you sat at her
kitchen table where she fed you crackers and peanut butter with juice from
canned concentrate – that was most likely on sale from Aldi's. The news would be
on the TV or a sermon playing on the radio. The conversation would evolve from
small talk about the weather, to life at home, wars across the world, the power
of prayer, and to questioning life goals. Nana was a wise woman – so well read
and knowledgeable. Every story had a lesson even if it was unsaid. Every
problem had a solution found through the Lord. Everything could be connected to
the Two Dead Cows tale.
She taught me how to knit sweaters and sew a
seam. I stood by her side making pierogies and golumpkis. Unfortunately, I don’t remember
how to knit nor do I recall the recipe for her pierogies. But what she did
teach me, and what I will always remember, is the power of faith. Nana was
confident in her beliefs and shared them with you. She believed that the Lord
will save and protect us, when in truth, she was doing so. She told us to not
worry but pray; to not fight but love.
Her requests were simple. Stop hollering at each
other and tell your brother or sister you love them. Pray to the lord when you don’t
know what to do, and to mow the lawn once a week. She was a Depression child
who lived frugally and humbly. She never asked for much but gave you everything
she had. I’m not sure if she realized that her hugs were priceless.
Nana never forgot to send a card, no matter what
occasion. I remember during college she would mail cards to me with Bible
verses and her kind words. I was going through a very hard time at that point
and I taped her cards to the wall in front of my desk. Two of them read: ‘Give
thanks to the Lord, for He is good, His love endures forever’ and ‘Trust in
Him, at all times.” I repeated those
verses over and over again; I repeated them through college, through New York, through
my travels, and to this day. These verses evolved into prayers and these
prayers have kept me going. Nana was right. You need to believe in the good, in
change, and in love. The life you lead needs to reflect the goodness in your
heart.
95 years is an amazing amount of time to spend
on this Earth. Even as she aged, she never lost her humor, drive, or sass. In
her 80’s she sat beside me in a paddleboat on pond in Stanley Quarter Park. She smiled from
her heart as she told you stories of Papa. She picked weeds from her beloved
lawn and grew berries in her backyard throughout her 90s. She reminded you to
wear a hat in the sun or put on a sweater. She giggled innocently when she had
too much canei wine.
However, the time had come for her to reunite
with Papa and her family in Heaven. Her soul was ready to leave this earth
before her body was. She did all she needed to do in this life – she is the
matriarch to a loving family and raised strong children. Her values and faith
will be immortalized and carried on through all of us. Yet Nana’s honey, fish oil,
and vinegar kept her alive for a little while longer. The Lord blessed her by
not letting her realize her body’s betrayal and by letting her fall gently into
an eternal slumber. We can be thankful and rejoice knowing exactly where she is
and who she is surrounded by.
Now instead of standing in your doorway waving
goodbye and wishing us a blessed day, you are watching down on us and
protecting us with your prayers and unconditional love.
As I said on the beach to my Nana and Aunt Karen
many years ago, when I grow up I want to be like Nana. She is the woman,
mother, daughter, sister, grandmother, wife, church-goer, and friend we all
aspire to be.
Let our tears be of thanks for the life Nana lived.
Let our embraces be of those that we can no longer give to her.
Let our actions and words live out Nana’s legacy.
We were graced with the presence of a Saint.
A bushel and a peck, and a hug around the neck.
I love you Nana.
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