Nestled in a corner of the living room of a simply built home of cement block, plaster walls, and worn floors sat a beloved rocking chair. It’s frame was adorned with many nicks and scratches;  the cushion on its seat was misshapen from all the fortunate loved ones who had a chance to sit in the old chair and enjoy the soothing lull it offered as it rocked back and forth amidst the activity taking place in the nearby kitchen…food cooking on the stove…pies in the oven…and little children running through the door to greet the special person who occupied the ageless beauty of this old chair that had become “her domain”…At night, after everyone had returned to their homes, or when her spouse of over 50 years retired to his bed, she sat down after a long day of tending to the chickens, picking berries or grapes from their bounty…maybe a little bit of housework to keep her modest home tidy, she rested. But she didn’t do so idly. In the welcome of rest her spiritual energy was awakened and she engaged in her favorite role–most precious–duty of the evening. She talked to Jesus.

Who was this woman who matched the modesty of her home? She was my Grandma Jewell. 

Somehow this woman could take a couple of chickens and feed a crowd for Sunday dinner. Berries were turned into the most scrumptious pies and jams. Flour not only dusted her apron but also left traces on her big, round sugar cookies, each with a few raisins poking their way through the baked dough. Homemade bread was a staple on her table (I remember my dad telling me she baked 9 loaves of bread every other day or so when raising her 11 children on the family farm–I have no way to verify that claim but it makes sense when you’ve got that many hungry bellies to fill). As much as grandma loved all the “things” she did for our BIG family (50+ grandchildren) her prized role in life was that of being a praying woman.

During her lifetime she prayed for grandpa to receive salvation from Christ (He eventually came to that decision, at age 55). She trusted for provision from God when the only thing in her cupboard may have been a few beans…She grieved and prayed her way through the loss of a child, number 5, who was born in her sixth month of pregnancy and lived 8 days, kept warm in one of the wood stove compartments. (My dad was her next child after Robert, her tiny son she never forgot about)…what mother would?  She prayed through the years of World War II, saying goodbye to five sons who each served in their respective assignments. She prayed every night for all her children, starting with the oldest, making her way to the youngest. She did so without regret or feeling selfish to get a good night’s sleep when her body must have ached from doing all the chores without the help of modern appliances. It wasn’t uncommon for her to be awake until 2 or 3 am during the “hard years” trusting for provision, warmth, a successful harvest, protection and health.

I have no recollection or knowledge when the rocking chair was added as a piece of furniture in her living room. Based on its appearance, I believe it had been around for a long time. I DO know this–it was HER chair–even grandpa didn’t sit in it. Getting a chance to sit in her rocker became a game with some of us grandkids, my brother David in particular when we visited. Whenever we arrived for our weekend’s Sunday visit, she was seated in that rocking chair, wearing a house dress and bib apron which was part of her permanent wardrobe. We’d walk through the door to see her face light up with joy and she’d rise to accept hugs and kisses from all of us. That’s when David would make his move; he’d give his required greeting and make a beeline for the chair! And he’d rock and rock, surrounded by her laughter of being “beat” out of her spot. Her kindness, which was deeply rooted in love, never allowed herself to scold him or anyone for that matter who “stole” her chair. She’d enjoy the game, accept the outcome and make her way to another seat in the living room or return to the kitchen to check on dinner.

I don’t know what became of grandma’s rocking chair after grandpa moved from their last home. I’d like to think he took it with him when he took up residence with my Aunt Esther. Out of all their meager possessions, in my humble opinion that simple wooden rocker and its worn cushion held as much–or more–value than any throne chair in the kingdoms of this earth. Why? Because, it’s in THAT chair that thoughts were always turned to a greater Kingdom not of this earth. You see, not only did grandma pray for her husband, her 11 children, their spouses, and ALL the grandchildren–if she met you and there was the absence of knowing Jesus–you got prayed for with deep dedication and great understanding of priorities beyond cooking and cleaning.

Years ago, after my brother David had become a Gideon, he gave a presentation in a church in the small town of Millington. After the service, a young woman approached him to ask “Are you related to Sadie Jewell?”

“Yes”, he answered. “She was my grandmother”.

“I’m Debbie C.; I lived next door to your grandparents. I want you to know that I became a Christian because of your grandmother, because I know she prayed for my family.”

I remember Debbie’s family, the Campbells. Grandma seldom spoke anything bad or negative against people, but in reference to this one, well, even though they had children our ages that could have been playmates, we were forbidden to go to their home or property because in grandma’s words “they aren’t the nicest people..the parents were known to be pretty mean to their children.”  Yet, even that honest description of their reputation accompanied  her hesitancy, didn’t stop her from adding their names to her prayer list. 

As I remember her rocking chair, her prayer life, I have had waves of  wondering how many names were uttered from her lips….how many names besides Debbie’s are written in the Book of Life because of my faithful trusting grandma?