Gratitude and Grace

As many of you know, I'm currently home in America, and my primary reason for coming home was to help celebrate my Grandma turning 100! There was a nice party, full of catching up, laughter, and even some tears. Not only was it amazing to spend such a day with my Grandmother, but it was wonderful to see and reconnect with so many relatives. Although the time with the extended family was short, it was just what I needed---a time to hear the latest family news, see how big the cousins' children have grown, and more personally, to flush out 2 years of my life and to reflect.

It was big news, knowing that the niece, or the cousin, or the granddaughter (depending on who was talking to whom) came 'all the way from Africa' to join in on the festivities of such a joyous day. I was asked the same questions, in different forms, with different accents, and despite the 'interviewer's' concerns, I honestly didn't get too tired of answering (maybe they got too tired of listening). And at times, I found myself saying things over and over again, but rather than it be redundant (to me), it was reaffirming. An affirmation that I lived to tell about my crazy two years of living in the middle of the African bush...no, no...just kidding. Seriously, my dialogue reminded me, that this whole experience, this 2 year life, will never be just that, but it is something that will be carried with me wherever I go. And I was also reminded that the influence of my Grandmother also travels with me wherever I go.

Valentina, or Val, is my Grandma. Believe it or not, she's one of the reasons why I decided to join the Peace Corps. Hearing her story always fascinated me when I was little, and it stills does today. She traveled, by ship, to America with her family, who wanted a better life from that in Russia; she arrived at Ellis Island, and settled in a foreign land. What a life. She couldn't speak the language, but learned it over time. She served as interpreter for her parents, and she worked hard because hard work yields benefits. 'What was it like back then, with no electricity or running water?' my sister and I would ask. 'How did you wash your clothes?' 'What kind of food did you eat?' And oddly enough, I, too, 97 years later after her stepping foot on American soil, I am answering the same questions about living in West Africa. My travels to Russia and Poland in high school and college always baffled Grandma. She never understood why I wanted to study the past so much. She was proud that I was returning to the land of our heritage, but for her, my studying the history of where we came from reminded her of days that were maybe not so romantic, but much more realistic and even, heartbreaking. But I told her I wanted to learn not only about the past, but more about how the past shapes people. When she heard I was going to Africa for two years, she was curious as to why, but expressed happiness and pride; she knew I wanted to challenge myself.

The day I arrived at Grandma's residence with my family, we sat in a private room off the dining hall. We caught up, my aunt's family and mine and Grandma, while eating lunch. Grandma was delighted to see everyone. However, the look on her face, five minutes after my sitting next to her in silence, when she realized that I traveled from 'all the way from Africa' to America for her birthday, was priceless. Her eyes lit up as it clicked in her mind, and we both smiled at each other, without saying a word. We knew what the other was thinking--- gratitude and grace.