To Aunt Gatey

Laughing, loving, always exhorting, and a mind like a steel trap. This was my Aunt Grace, or Gatey, as the family affectionately called her.

She was probably best known for her skill with children, age 0-2, and if you ever lived close to her, she most likely baby-sat or gave you expert instruction on the art of new-mothering. All babies cooperated with this amazing woman. She could have been called a baby-whisperer.

Of course, another biggie in my memory was her skill in the kitchen - all home-grown, scratch-made and top-notch. We would brave the sweltering drives up to Tonasket, WA. from Spokane, WA every summer to be treated by fresh veggies, hamburger made from real cows, or fried chicken from real chickens (Never name them. They may end up on your plate...)lemonade, sometimes pie or that incredible German chocolate cake (German chocolate was in her veins)and always cookies. Oh, and let's not forget the pies, produced from the many fruits from the orchards along the river. If we happened to spend Christmas together, the hand-dipped chocolates (again, it was in her blood) were a highlight a the table - if they evcer GOT to the table.

OK, so she did more than cook and chase children. Who can easily forget her handwork? Rembrandt with an embroidery needle or crochet hook could not match her amazing skill.

What always amazed me more than her homemaking accomplishments was the stories Mom would tell of how Grace, her older sister, had escaped death so many times in her long life. She had fatal diseases and was rather frail, but death never took her. Mom said that once, when Aunt Grace was not expected to make it through the night, the Congregational church held an all night vigil and God answered by healing Grace of whichever ailment it was that was reaching out to steal her life away.

It was not until she was ready to go home that death accomplished its mission on a hot July morning. This time it was different. She did not fight it. She knew it was God's time. She was thankful and left willingly.

How I will miss my Aunt Grace.