Verse 3 by Bill Withers
Grandma’s hands used to hand me piece of candy
Grandma’s hands picked me up each time I fell
Grandma’s hands, boy, they really came in handy
She’d say, “Mattie, don’t you whip that boy
What you want to spank him for?
He didn’t drop no apple core”
But I don’t have Grandma anymore
If I get to heaven I’ll look for
Grandma’s hands
Proverbs 13:24 He who spares his rod hates his son, But he who loves him disciplines
him promptly. I know the system has made this scripture of non-effect. But we know that
if we spare the rod, the system will use the rod or worse. We have to know when to
spare the rod. Personally, I talked to my children most of the time. I only used the rod
when they did something that would really endanger their lives. They must be taught
discipline. They need to know that when you say “STOP” that means stop. That is the
universal call of law enforcement. This is something that we as grandmothers need to
reenforce in our grandchildren. We have to have that historical talk with our Black
grandsons and granddaughters alike. We have to instill in them that the truth no matter
how good or bad never changes. The place I started was the church and Sunday
School.
There are so many life lessons that are a part of our heritage that our children may not
even know. Your family tree matters. Your family history matters. The need to know that
they came from good stock. The kind of “good stock” that worked from sun up to
sundown. Our generation knows how to survive in the worst of times. Grand ma, teach
them survival skills that you were taught. Teach them please and thank you. Teach them
yes Sir and No ma’am. Teach them that respect is learned and earned. Teach them to
respect themselves first and foremost, then others will do the same in kind.
We have to get in where we fit in. I have started a group chat with my granddaughters.
Every morning, I send them a good morning thought for the day. Most recently we had a
misunderstanding. It was a misunderstanding of words. I speak English. They speak in
acronyms. They speak a language all their own. I needed to know what happen. I had to
go all the way back to childhood trauma that I had not considered in my response. But
they quickly made it known. With a gentle, I’m sorry, and a real talk, conversation, we
came to an agreement that we all were out of order for lack of understanding. Huggs
and kisses resulted (emoji style). But I don’t have Grandma anymore If I get to heaven
I’ll look for Grandma’s hands.