The Gift of Free Will

I hated to think of my 90-plus-year-old grandma all alone in her one-bedroom apartment, with her macular degeneration growing worse every day. But whenever I visited, Grandma fiercely defended her independence. “I’m fine here. A neighbor checks on me, and I walk to the mailbox every day, except Sunday, when I rest.”

She certainly kept it nice. A floral teapot sat on the two-burner stove with crocheted hot pads nearby. Lace doilies served as placemats on the oval kitchen table. The living room held a sofa and a lounge chair.

“It’s time for my show,” Grandma said. “Watch with me.” She placed a second kitchen chair next to hers, just three feet from the old television on a rolling stand. “If I sit real close, I can see my favorite actors.”

Most of the family thought Grandma should live in a facility that provided meals, a place where lots of people were always around. But Grandma could see what we could not see, and God gives his children free will.

I watched her soap opera with her whenever I could and tried not to worry too much. When she saw the need to move into a nursing home, the whole family was there for her.