From a gentle woman comes the strength of generations

jrust

In times of trial, strength comes from knowing God is there. Moms and grandmothers offer similar support. It's easy to take all of them for granted.

My grandmother, Virginia Kurka Frenzel, is a remarkable woman who tells me stories I'll never forget. In her bright eyes and gentle voice, her tales come alive: Traveling as a teen-ager to Virginia Beach, where she sat upon the sand and watched the fishermen haul in the catch. Or driving to Texas a few years later -- when new roads followed the winding paths carved by wagons and the early cars demanded changing tires on a nearly daily basis. One of my favorite memories about that particular tale is the Mexican woman who made tortillas, gently turning them in the pan: The hot, sweet aroma paints the air in the gestures of my grandmother.

There are stories about heroic immigrant great-grandfathers, who read a full set of encyclopedias to better understand the English language.

My grandmother met her first husband, who passed away in a car accident, at church at a wedding when he noticed her immediately (and, thus, proved himself clearly a very smart man). Her second husband bought a new suit for their small, private wedding, and then forgot to wear it. So she changed into a comfortable dress too. Now she says: "I've had a big wedding and a small wedding, and the most important thing is why you're there."

There's admiration in her eyes about my father and what he's done in the newspaper business. Yet there are no newspapers in the world as powerful as her letters and conversation about family. Single-handedly, at times, she keeps track of dozens of children, cousins and grandchildren, sharing with each about the exploits of the others. She provides news copy, photographs and even editorials. Not bashful to criticize, she offers perspective with love and grace, however.

One time when I came home from college, I called her late in the morning to see if I could take her to lunch. In response, I was lectured that she has her own schedule and I should call further in advance. It wasn't that she didn't want to see me, but it wouldn't be fair of her to cancel her lunch with friends on such short notice, because they would be disappointed. It was common courtesy to take other people's schedules into consideration, she said with a wee bit of a barb.

On a more recent note, she was one of only a few who knew in advance I was going to propose to my girlfriend. Once I did propose, I failed, however, to tell her the answer was "yes." So for two weeks -- with me out of town most of the time -- she kept the secret, not knowing whether I'd been rejected and unsure of whom she could ask to find out.

If she's ever asked to keep secrets again for me, I'm never to leave her in limbo. She wants to know all the others who know the secret, too.

My grandmother is a spiritual woman with a deep faith in the power of God and a zeal for life that transcends the mundane. It blossoms from her eyes and glows from her skin. It pulses through her voice and soars in her stories.

With a kiss on her cheek, each time I see her, that life becomes mine, too. She has a beautiful perspective on the life around her: the creation and the resurrection, the flowers, the birds, the trees, the rabbits, the family, the friends, the frogs, even the stories themselves.

To this most special and remarkable woman, to my mother, and to all mothers and grandmothers, Happy Mother's Day!

Jon K. Rust is co-president of Rust Communications.