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Memoirs of My Grandmother
By Gloria Wan
When I think of Po Po, I think of the fun-filled days in her house in Burnaby, days spent following her around in the kitchen, and in the garden. She always gave me little treats in bottles behind hidden cupboards. With these same magical ingredients: carrots, barley, lotus seed, longan, green beans, red beans and other exotic Chinese herbs, Po Po would concoct the most delightful-smelling soups. Her tidy abode was the home of many a family gathering, ones filled with thankfulness, hearty laughs, and wistful reminiscing.
More wonderful still was her garden which sprawled forty metres long from the back to the sides of the front driveway. Her garden didn't just look good, you could actually eat from it. I would take pride in going from tree to tree, naming all the different fruits and vegetables: a pear tree, a prune tree, a blueberry patch, a cherry tree, two apple trees, a tomato patch, a parsley patch, a raspberry patch, snowpeas crawling up neatly-thatched sticks, and assorted leafy greens. When I was told Bible stories about the Garden of Eden, I thought of my Po Po's garden.
Po Po also had another secret garden, one which she dutifully tended to each night before going to bed. During sleepovers, she would give me a cushion for my knees, then she would take her own into her little prayer closet where she prayed aloud to Jesus. She modeled for me what it meant to be a prayer warrior. She prayed for our family, for the church, for the pastors, and for me. She prayed with a simple heart, earnestly and faithfully; she never missed a night. Her legacy of prayer is seen in us, her children and grandchildren. As we continue to walk with the Lord, may we inherit her heart of intercession and be fruitful likewise.
In Memory of Grandmother
By Matthew Wan
It was so quick that night it came,
The Angel of the Lord called her name.
She died that night so quietly,
No goodbye, struggles or cry of plea.
I trust that God will keep her safe,
Where she belongs in that heavenly place.
I cry no more because I know
It will never bring her back, she had to go.
We should treasure the friends that we have,
Tell them you love them before they too take that path.
When sorrows take over remember God is near.
He conquered all even death we do not need to fear.
So I tell you now please do not cry.
She is with God she did not die.
So Death you have no power you see,
So flee from this place you have no authority.
I thank you God for giving your Son,
Because of him this war we've won.
Never Too Late To Say SORRY
By Mason Wan
My grandmother had harsh Alzheimer's disease that started when I was about two years old. She had been in the senior home for three years under the good care of nurses. I can still remember how she would always take care of me when my mother went to work. She would always put me on the couch, turn the television set on for me, and then make me a nice filling snack.
Even though she remembered nothing of me -- she might remember me clearly in her heart, but remained silent. It was sad to know that she loved me so much but yet couldn't express it. She could merely mumble out words that could not be understood, for she has forgotten how to speak. She could only lie in bed and waited, for her legs were too weak and mal-nourished for the lack of exercise. She could not walk but was moved in a wheel chair. My uncle and aunts visited her and took care of her daily, as a showing of gratitude for all the things that she had done for us before Alzheimer's took her over. When I was seen by her, she showed a mere smile that gave great warmth to my heart. Great sorrow and grief came upon my small, young heart the day that my faithful God took my last and only grandparent away.
I sadly regret how I rebelled to obey her when I was asked to do something by her, but now it is too late to say "sorry". It is so sad, but my grandmother in heaven will be happy to see that I have learned from my mistakes.
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