Where Did That Come From? (Lessons from Grandma)

It was just after 6:00 a.m.

I was sitting by the pool, coffee nearby, watching another stunning Arizona sunrise while getting ready to listen to Jeffrey Allen’s Duality podcast.

As I reached for my earbuds, I noticed the cord was hopelessly tangled. While patiently working the knots loose, something unexpected happened.

Almost as if there were an invisible connection between my hands and my mind, a question appeared out of nowhere.

How different would my life have been if my grandparents had played a significant role in raising me?

I literally stopped.

Where did that come from?

The only grandparent I really knew was my mother’s grandmother, Granny Carter. She passed away more than 60 years ago—but in that moment—she was suddenly as present as if I were sitting beside her once again.

Granny was blind and mostly bedridden, but don’t mistake those limitations for weakness. She was one of the strongest people I’ve ever known.

Every weekend we visited, she’d pat the bed beside her, inviting me to sit down. Before I could leave, there was work to do.

She expected me to recite the Bible verses she had assigned the week before, along with The Lord’s Prayer, The 23rd Psalm, and The 100th Psalm.

There were no shortcuts.

No excuses.

At the time, I thought she was teaching me scripture.

Looking back, I realize she was teaching me something much bigger: discipline, focus, commitment, and accountability. She was quietly shaping my character.

For someone who couldn’t see and rarely left her bed, Granny also had an extraordinary sense of order.

Everything had its place.

She would carefully arrange her belongings to her left, then gently pat the bed to make sure everything was exactly where it belonged. Long before anyone talked about Lean principles (a set of continuous improvement methodologies aimed at maximizing customer value while minimizing waste) or organizational systems, Granny understood that order creates peace.

Another lesson quietly absorbed.

And then there was her Faith.

Materially, she had very little.

Spiritually, she possessed an abundance that many spend a lifetime chasing.

She never seemed anxious about tomorrow. She simply believed God would provide what she needed, and somehow, He always did.

My mother often smiled and said, “You’re just like Granny Carter. She’d rather sit on the front porch with a good book than get caught up in all the worries of life.”

The older I become, the more I realize she was right.

Somewhere along the way, Granny planted seeds that would take decades to grow.

Only now am I beginning to fully appreciate the wisdom she lived every day—living with simplicity, discipline, gratitude, and quiet faith.

Funny how life works.

One tangled earbud cord.

One unexpected question.

One treasured memory.

And suddenly, we’re reminded that some of the people who shape us most are those who were with us for only a short season.

The older I get, the more convinced I become that ordinary moments are the ones that shape an extraordinary life.

So I’ll leave you with a question:

Who quietly shaped the person you’ve become?

Perhaps it was a parent, grandparent, a teacher, a coach, a neighbor, or a friend.

What lessons did they leave behind that are still showing up in your life today?

I’d love to hear your story.

You can reach me at joan@jmclark.com. Your story may be exactly the encouragement someone else needs today.