Growing up, my siblings and I would bicker – I mean, what siblings didn’t?
But there were moments – in the bickering – where above all of the minute arguments a voice would call out.
“Who’s got the power?”
We’d go silent.
She’d then ask us again…
“Who’s got the power?”
I can still picture those moments to this day – us all gathered in the driveway probably challenging each other on who had to sit in the back of the car or something silly like that – and then we’d turn around…
There she’d be, standing tall – as she always did – dressed in some beautifully brightly color coordinated, and always classy outfit. Hands on her hips and her expression – serious.
My grandma was an incredible woman who instilled hard work in the McGuire name. She helped teach me the value of a dollar. There were always chores to be done, but there was also never a time the visit didn’t end with her sly little hug, kiss, and a quick slip of a few bucks in the pocket. Or, sometimes, she’d reach out to hold my hands for a moment, but there was always a little something folded up inside of her palm – “A little lunch money for you.”
She was a faithful woman, who in both high and hard times turned to God. She showed up for her family and her church, always.
My grandma had this strength that just poured out of her – it was contagious.
It was at her house where I found my love of I Love Lucy. It’s funny, I always thought my Grandma and Lucy were so alike when I was young. I don’t know if it was the hair color or style, or the timeless dressing – but as I’ve gotten older, I think it might’ve been the roaring independence and contagious laugh that Lucy had. If you’ve ever seen I Love Lucy, you know she was always marching to the beat of her own drum, and my grandma always did the same.
I feel connected to her in that way.
Grandma’s house will forever be a feeling I will carry in the back pocket of my life. Lincoln logs, The Little Rascals, Judge Judy, Sunday after church brunch, deviled eggs, potato salad, jello – all of the Grandma McGuire specialties. My brother and I used to play whiffle ball in her backyard – and somehow always ended up hitting the ball over the neighbor’s fence… It wouldn’t be until the next time we showed up at grandmas, that the whiffle ball would have somehow magically returned.
Recently, I had to answer the question – “If your soul was a color, what would it be?”
Well, my grandma’s would’ve been yellow. She always was yellow to me – sunshine and light. Not to mention, that color also looked beautiful on her (as did just about any other color as well).
So, who had the power…? What did that even mean?
My grandma taught my siblings and me one of the more important life lessons there is.
Power does not come from the loudest in the room. Arguments aren’t won by the person who screams louder or says the meaner thing.
Instead, there’s a power in silence – a quiet confidence and peace. Holding your head high, standing tall, and refraining from saying words that you’ll later regret saying in only a few hours time.
She always had the power, and what a gift it was for her to pass that down to us – to me.
So, may her power and strength live on, always.
And may we all take a page from her book of life, and in those trying moments – the ones where we just want to scream – we ask ourselves…
Who has the power?
I hope you choose it to be you.
