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Nina's Newsletter>
Stepping Stones
September 12, 2006
What comes to your mind when you read the word “nanny”? Is
it the unique voice and laughter of Fran Drescher from “The
Nanny” tv comedy? Is it the hired childcare that your
wealthy parents provided for your upbringing? (I didn’t
think so.)
Well, for me, “nanny” brings back wonderful memories
of my grandmother we affectionately called “Nanny.” Nanny
was gentle, nurturing and lavished lots of love and
understanding on her five grandchildren known as the “Percy
kids.” We grew up most of our lives within walking
distance of Nanny and Grandpa’s house. That was a good
thing, especially since my parents would separate
regularly, reconcile, separate, reconcile, separate—you get
the picture. The only stability we had would be the comfort
we found at our grandparents’.
My first cherished memory of Nanny is that of being
peacefully rocked in her arms in her bedroom. I can still
see the light olive green color of the rocker and hear the
rhythmic sound of wood against wood as I warmly recall
being snuggled against her grandmotherly breasts. Nanny
always smelled like talcum powder.
Another thing I remember about Nanny was her
beautiful, long, Hungarian braid. “What makes a braid
Hungarian?” You may ask. Well, it has to be on a woman
from Hungary! Nanny was born in Hungary in 1906 and came to
the United States with her parents, brother, Frank, and her
three sisters. Their lives were colored by incredible
hardship and loss, not the least of which was the Great
Depression. During that time, Nanny’s dad committed
suicide and her mother, who spoke no English, was left as a
single mother. My grandmother’s young adult years were cut
short when it was arranged for her to marry a well to do
gentleman she did not love. She married out of a sense of
responsibility to financially help her struggling family.
When tuberculosis took my grandmother to the brink of
death, Nanny was determined to build a new life if she
survived the TB and was ever able to leave the sanatorium.
She survived, divorced the abusive husband but lost her
young daughter in the deal. Eventually, Nanny found love
and married my Italian grandfather and produced a son,
Albert, my father.
Since Grandpa had his own lifelong heartaches, he
turned to alcohol and became abusive when he often drank.
This was not the life Nanny had hoped for either. But,
alas, she was already feeling the weight of guilt of
ex-communication from her church that her first dissolved
marriage carried. She was determined to stick it out and
create a home for her only son. The good news is that my
grandfather eventually sobered up and was a wonderful man.
Fortunately for me, those things all happened long before
the grandkids arrived and my memories of Grandpa are warm
and bring happiness to my heart. One of these days, I’ll
have to tell you about my little Italian grandpa!
Somewhere in the years, my grandmother lost her
brother to a suicide, similar to her father’s. These
losses haunted this compassionate and spiritual woman. She
feared these loved ones would be banished from Heaven.
Another heavy grief for my Nanny was the demise of her
son’s tumultuous marriage to my mother. Her dreams for my
dad to have a better life and happy marriage were not to
be. I was twelve and the youngest was only four when my
father received sole custody of his five young children.
Nanny and Grandpa ended up being our primary caregivers.
To this day, I am confident the Lord used my grandmother to
help me become the wife, mother and lover of God I am
today.
My purpose in sharing these family skeletons with you
is not for pity. I want you to see that Nanny knew what
she was talking about when she shared her wisdom with me. I
was having a particularly frustrating day being the
surrogate mother at age twelve. I needed some love and
reassurance so I called the only person who seemed to
understand my father’s regular outbursts of anger directed
at me. My crime and punishment: I forgot to buy milk at
the corner store and for that transgression I was grounded
for two weeks to “learn to be responsible.”
“Nanny,” I sobbed over the phone. “Why is dad so mean
to me? I try so hard to be good all the time. The kids
won’t listen to me. I’m not their mom and Dad expects me
to keep them in line. I can’t do anything right in his
eyes.”
“Honey,” Nanny gently embraced me through the phone
lines. “Your dad carries a lot of burdens. Please forgive
him, even though you are hurting right now.”
“I do forgive him but I wish things were different.”
What my sage grandmother said next is something that
has been part of my being ever since.
“Nina, dear,” she began, “Each challenge in life is a
stepping stone. We take one step at a time that prepares
us for the future. God is helping you become strong for
when you really need it down the road.”
At the time I didn’t think to muse “I wonder what’s
going to happen to me in the future that I will have to be
so strong?” Innocence and ignorance can be bliss.
In essence, without knowing Romans 8:28, my wonderful
Nanny was telling me “In all things, God works together for
the good of those who love Him, who have been called
according to His purpose.” She knew that the struggles in
life create character in us. They build our faith. They
have to. When there is no one else who understands, no one
else to turn to, we are forced to turn to the Almighty.
God is omnipotent. He is our strength. God is omniscient.
He is all-knowing. God is omnipresent. He is with us at
all times, and in all circumstances. Our strength is found
in Him.
My Nanny never had a chance to meet my daughters Tess
and Hope who both have Down syndrome. I never had the
privilege of calling Nanny to cry out and seek her
compassion and understanding when I wondered why God let
Tess be born with Down syndrome. I miss Nanny’s empathy
and insight but the legacy of her love and wisdom remain
with me as I sit and snuggle my precious little ones to my
breast.
Nina Fuller
*********** All Content Copyright © 2006 Nina Fuller All Rights Reserved
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