Life, Love and Legacy: Lessons from my Grandmother
Every generation hands the next one both an inheritance and an invitation; an inheritance to cherish and an invitation to grow. Noni gave us both.
Lillian Dawson, more commonly known as Noni by her grandchildren, lived to be an astonishing ninety-four years old. Born to an Italian immigrant, Lilly grew up on a ranch in the middle of no where. She married young, raised four children, worked hard, gardened, volunteered countless hours, remained devoted to one husband her entire life and lived long enough to meet her great-great-grandchild. Ninety-four years is enough to witness nearly a century of change, and oh the stories she could tell you.
She knew how to show love through service more than words. In fact, she often said “don’t tell me you love me, show me you love me.” She was a tough Italian cookie, but resilient, hardworking and persevering. Noni wasn’t the type of grandmother who smothered you with hugs and kisses. But I suppose love isn’t always expressed the same way. Sometimes it looks like hugs, sometimes it looks like hems. She would sit behind a sewing machine stitching love into curtains for my childhood bedroom and my first princess dress for Halloween. She even sewed my blue gingham Dorothy dress when I was cast in my high school’s production of The Wizard of Oz. Looking back, I realize those stitches were her love language.
The sewing machine wasn’t the only place she invested in people. She also had a gift that seems to be disappearing these days; she always answered the phone. Whenever I called, she picked up. We would chat about anything and everything and she always asked “what’s new?” It was usually not a rushed conversation or a quick check in, some conversations lasting well over an hour. She always took the time. Looking back, I realize those conversations were another way she was weaving love into our relationship. She let people know they were worth her time.
When she wasn’t behind a sewing machine, she did prove to like a little adventure. She took me on my first trip that required air travel. I was in the 5th grade. It was a red eye flight to Washington D.C. where my mom, sister, and both grandparents shared one hotel room for a week. It wasn’t fancy, I’m pretty sure I slept on the floor, but I was grateful to be traveling and seeing our Nation’s Capitol.
I even took the title of “Favorite Grandchild” (though for a short amount of time) when I accompanied her to a botanical garden in the middle of July when no one else dared to go. It was sweltering, and although I thought I might pass out, it was totally worth it when she brought it up decades later acknowledging my sweaty sacrifice. Some of life’s sweetest memories are saying “yes” to moments we would rather skip.
Looking back, I realize she wasn’t just showing me new places, she was widening my world. Noni handed me an invitation to be curious, to explore, to say yes to adventure, but may I not forget to be frugal while doing it.
She filled my childhood with sayings like; “no pain, no gain.” “Waste not, want not.” “With beauty comes pain, with pain comes beauty.” She most definitely would “tell you like it is,” which may or may not be something you actually wanted to hear. And when she declared “kitchen is closed” you learned quickly that she meant it!
As I have reflected on Noni’s life, I have been reminded of Psalm 78. This passage is where God’s people are instructed not to hide the stories of one generation from the next. Instead, they are encouraged to tell them truthfully and faithfully so future generations will know where they came from and, ultimately, put their hope in God. It teaches us that stories are never just about the past, they also help us shape our future. That’s one of the reasons stories like hers matter.
Her life reminds me that every generation has both strengths worth preserving and wounds worth healing. At the end of a life, every family inherits something. We inherited traditions, recipes, stories, sayings, determination, and faith. Sometimes we also inherit pain, or pride or unforgiveness. My prayer is that our family continues to pass down the beautiful things she gave us while choosing, by God’s grace, to lay down the things that don’t have to continue. That’s one of the greatest gifts we can give the generations that come after us.
Scripture reminds us that our lives are “a mist that appears for a little while and then vanishes.” -James 4:14. Ninety-four years may sound like a lifetime, but when a chair at the table is suddenly empty, even ninety-four years doesn’t feel long enough. Life has a way of convincing us there will always be another phone call, another holiday, another chance to say what we’ve been meaning to say. But sometimes there just isn’t…
If Noni’s life has reminded me of anything, it’s this: don’t wait to express gratitude, to extend forgiveness, to ask the questions you’ve always wanted to ask, or simply to pick up the phone. To ask, “what’s new?” The people we love won’t be with us forever, and neither will we. Legacy isn’t only what we leave behind, it is also how we love the people God has entrusted to us while we are still here.
Noni, thank you for every stitch, every lesson, every family story, every plate of lasagna, every airplane adventure, and every piece of the woman you helped shape me to be. Thank you for showing me where I came from. You gave our family an inheritance worth cherishing and an invitation to grow. The threads you stitched into our lives continue in us, and, by God’s grace, they’ll continue in the generations to come. Because of your life, I know a little more about where I want to go and the kind of legacy I hope to leave behind.
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