TRIBUTES TO OUR PRAYING GRANDMOTHERS
Kevin Stewart
There's an old saying, "To know her is to love her". This was never more true than
with my Grandmother, Virginia O'Neill. Nana was loved not just by her family, but by
anyone who met her. And she touched many, many lives throughout her life. I think
everyone called her Nana, from our family to those she went to church with. But I
always felt especially blessed because she really WAS my Nana.
Both Nana & Papa O'Neill were born in Ireland. They became Christians as teenagers,
and were married shortly afterwards. They moved to America (to Shamrock Texas), and
started their family ... my Uncle Joseph Jr., my Mom Bonnie and my Aunt Judy. It was
a home filled with love.
She rarely traveled outside of Texas (until failing health caused them to have to
move to Phoenix when my grandparents were in their 80s). So I didn't get to see her
as often as I'd have liked growning up. But she was a letter writer! And although
I wasn't a Christian until I was nearly 40 years old, every time I received a letter
from her, Nana would always tell me that she was praying for me. She always made me
feel loved, which was something I deserately needed to hear, growing up in a home
with an abusive, alcoholic father.
I believe that Nana's prayers over the years are what led me to at long last seek the
Lord in my own life. She sacrificed so many hours in prayer on behalf of her children
and grandchildren. Her greatest happiness was our happiness. I'm just so grateful
that she lived to see each of her children and grandchildren come to know the Lord in
her lifetime. It wasn't just a reward she received when she finally arrived in
Heaven ... she got to see her prayers rewarded right here on earth.
It would probably humiliate my Grandmother to hear me say that she was responsible
for any of that. She was a woman who always felt most comfortable in the background,
and never wanted the credit for anything. She never wanted any glory for her works,
but always wanted to encourage those around her to seek the very best for themselves.
Whenever I hear the song Wind Beneath My Wings, I immediately think of Nana.
Especially these lines ...
It might have appeared to go unnoticed,
but I've got it all here in my heart.
I want you to know I know the truth,
I would be nothing without you
Nana, you truly were the "wind beneath my wings". And there isn't a day that goes by
that I don't think of you, miss you and thank God for you. Thank you for loving me,
thank you for your prayers for me. I believe that everyone is sent to earth by God
for a reason, and that you were placed here on earth especially for me!
Joey O'Neill
I thank the Lord for my Nana O'Neill, and for her long and faithful walk with God.
She was saved as a young teenager, and although she was born and raised in Ireland,
she became a loyal and faithful Baptist lady as soon as she and Papa settled into
their new home in American (Texas).
Nana read her Bible regularly. She read it through once each year. That's around
80 times throughout her lifetime! But anyone can do that. The important is that
Nana didn't just read it, she lived it.
From the day I was born, my parents brought me up in a Christian home with Christian
training. But when I went to the altar at the age of eight at a Baptist Tent Revival,
it was Nana who came and knealt with me as I invited Jesus into my heart to be my Lord
and Savior.
In the years that followed, I'd fall away from my faith occasionally. But whenever
that happened, Nana would be right there, praying with me and for me, and I'd be
right back on track with the Lord again. The Lord never gave up on me ... and
neither did Nana.
Whether it was her prayers or hearing her singing the beautiful old hymns while she
played her old stand-up piano or reciting Scripture verses memorized so long ago,
Nana remained a witness to a life spent serving the Lord. Nana's faith and
commitment is a heritage to our entire family. I know that I am the Christian man
I am today because of a Grandmother who never gave up on praying for me.
Danny Stewart
I fear that most Christians today don't pray the way they should. I know the one area
that I (and most Christians) can always improve in my walk with the Lord is my
prayer life. So many times we hear testimonies of how someone came to know the Lord
after years of prayers by a sainted father, mother or grandparent. What an honor
it is to pray. To talk with God!
My brother Kevin and our cousin Joey have written beautifully of our Nana O'Neill.
I could not improve or add to anything they have said. So I would like to share
some things from my heart about my other Grandmother, Lenore Stewart.
My brothers Kevin & Randy our sister Kimberly and myself were the only Stewart grandchildren.
And during Meemaw Lenore's life, it was only Kevin and me.
Meemaw Lenore came from an Italian family, deeply rooted in the Catholic faith. WHen
she married the Scottish (and Protestant) Jacob Stewart, it was clearly understood
that their children would be raised in her faith.
Because our own home was so turbulent (the result of a father who allowed his abuse of
alcohol to destroy our family life), Kevin and I were often sent to stay with our
grandparents in Oregon. Though Meemaw Lenore suffered from some mental health issues
(we now know it was manic-depression), it never interred with her love for us, nor with
her daily spiritual life. The one thing I most remember about my Grandmother was her
strong belief in prayer. No meal was ever consumed without a grace and a
blessing. And each of her days began and ended with prayer.
On many occasions, my brother and I were beaten and abused by our Father. Particularly
at night, after he came home from after-work drinking nights. As a result, I was
afraid of the dark, even at my Grandparents home, so far away from my Father. Meemaw
felt my fears, and she would hold me on her lap and rock me as she said her evening vespers.
I felt so safe there in her arms, with her prayers covering me like a warm blanket. From the lamp in her
room hung glass prisms, which caused beams of brightly colored light shafts to dance
across the walls around the room. She told me the lights were shadows of the angels that God had
send to answer our prayers.
When I became a Christian, my devotion to a consistant prayer life came directly from Meemaw Lenore's influence
on my early life. It is the richest inheritance she could have left me. I've heard
a saying that "Prayer should be the key of the day and the lock of the night." I've
applied that to my life, just as my Grandmother did.
A few years ago, Peepaw gave me that beautiful old prism lamp that I so loved from
my childhood. The colors of the rainbow still dance on my bedroom walls, just as they did in my
Grandmother's room. I see the colorful light shafts, and can't help but think ...
is that the Angels sent to answer my prayers, or perhaps it's the spirit of Meemaw
Lenore sprinkling her love over me.
Teena Stewart
Intercessory prayer is standing in the gap for others, holding them up before the
Lord. Sometimes people just need extra support to help them in their spiritual
battles, sometimes we need to stand in the gap for unsaved loved ones, and some times
we just need to seriously pray for the Church.
When my Grandmother, Bonnie Stewart, moved in with us in the last seven months of her
life, she was a new Christian. But she already knew the fundementals of intercessory
prayer. Many times, I heard her pray for the salvation, health, protection and
spiritual growth of her children and grandchildren. My Grandmother knew that many battles
against Satan could be won through the power of prayer.
I am grateful that God brought my Grandmother to live with our family. One of my most
treasured memories of her now is how she would find time to pray each day. Sometimes
she would ask Daddy to pray with her, sometimes it would be my sister Kellee, my
brother Scottie or me. But she always asked us in the same way. Her bedroom was up
on the second floor, and she'd say, "I'm going to the Upper Room to pray, want to be
my prayer partner today?" I treasure the times I spent with my Grandmother in prayer,
and although I miss her every day, I know I will join her in Heaven where ALL of our
family will be reunited.
Rick Landers
My Grandmother, Dorothy Carmichael, was called "Oma" by my sisters and me. She was
one in a million! Born into a poor and humble life in North Carolina, she married a
tall and handsome young Canadian, Walter Carmichael. They lived in Canada, where they
had two children (my Uncle Walt and my mother, Donna). Shortly after they moved to
California, my Grandfather died from a massive heart attack at the age of 28.
Life was not easy for Oma. Yet she kept her priorities in order. She first loved
God, she then loved her famiy. In time, she enjoyed nothing more than being with her
grandchildren. My sisters and I were so fortunate because she lived with us.
I have so many wonderful memories of Oma. Sitting in her lap in our back yard,
listening to her bedtime stories or taking me to Bible School Camp each summer.
Because my bedroom was next to hers, I always heard her prayers. If I went past her
room on my way to bed, I would see her kneeling by her bed. And she always prayed
for our President, her pastor and each member of her family by name. I remember
hearing her say so many times, "Lord, bless Ricky. Burden him until he accepts you".
In the back of my mind, I always thought I was Oma's favorite. What a shock it was
when, in time, each of my sisters told me they were her favorite! So typical
of a loving Grandmother to make each child feel so special and loved.
If I could speak to Oma once again, I'd tell her "Thank you for always praying for me.
Now I know why prayer was so important to you. What an influence you were to me! And
I hope one day my children and future grandchildren will be able to say that they
heard my prayers for them.
I always knew Oma as a godly woman. I miss her very much. But I know she is in
Heaven now, and that I will see her again. And when I do, she'll introduce me to
my Grandfather, who I haven't yet met.
I love you, Oma. See you soon!
Stephen Browning
My paternal Grandmother was born in Italy to a Jewish family, but she converted when
she married my Grandfather, who was a Roman Catholic. My Grandparents were both
Italian immigrants. Poppy owned a small butcher's shop in Brooklyn, New York. Gram
helped him in the store, but mostly stayed at home raising their two sons, my Father
Jerry and my Uncle Joe.
I was strongly influenced by both of my Grandparents. But Gram was special. She
gave me a whole lot of individualized love and showed me the first example I'd seen
of strong faith. Whenever I'd visit them, I would hear her prayers at night after
she thought I was asleep -- prayers for my parents, prayers for my uncle, prayers for
each of my brothers, prayers for me.
I clearly remember Gram talking to my parents so many times, encouraging them to
"straighten up" their lives and get their boys in church. Today, every one of us
(including my children and my brothers children) are Christians and actively involved
in church. Unfortunately Gram died before her prayers were answered. But in my
heart, I know she knows.
Today, our family stands as an answer to my Grandmother's prayers. We are an
extension of her faith.
Lori Browning
Parents play the most important role in family prayer. But Grandparents can reinforce
the need and understanding of prayer in children.
Family life is so hectic today that too many parents are finding it difficult to fit
prayer into their daily schedule. All too often it is one more demand in an already
overwhelming day. Prayer can be a calming force in the midst of the family whirlwind,
but there are times when the parents are unwilling or unable to pray for or with their
children regularly. Grandparents need to carry their grandchildren in prayer.
I'm more thankful than I can say that I was always aware that my Grandmother prayed for me.
That she was a woman of prayer, that it was important to her and that she loved me enough to pray for me. There
were many times as I grew up that her prayers had a dramatic effect on me.
Most of the tributes to Grandmothers have been made posthumously. I'm very priviledged to have the
opportunity to honor my Grandmother while she is still alive. I love you, Grandma. It
has been wonderful to share this lifetime with you, and I am comforted in knowing that
we will spend eternity together!
Pastor Steve
When I was asked to write a little something about my Grandmother for this
tribute page, wonderful thoughts began to flood my mind about the beautiful
lady, my Grandma. All her grandkids & Great Grandkids called her "Meema".
Meema lived in the central part of Kentucky most her growing up years. Life
there wasn't an easy one, because they were pretty poor, making just enough
to get by most of the time. Later, after Meema became a teenager, she met
the love of her life, my Grandfather Robert, or as I came to call him
PaPaw. A few years later, they would move to a little town in Ohio called
Norwood. There both of them worked at various jobs in town to be able to
move from a small appartment into a nice little house, and began to start a
family. Over a few short years they had three girls and one boy.
Unfortunatly, things didn't stay happy in their family for long. My Grandpa
started drinking & gambling. As time went on and the kids were getting older,
he got worse and started coming home drunk and abused my Grandma verbally and
pshyically. It was at this time that my Grandma started to attend church and
became a Christian. I never really got to know my Grandpa much, because by
the time I was born he had left my Grandma and had moved somewhere else in
Ohio. But thank God, I was able to see and be with him a short time before
he died.
Anyway, when I was born my Mother had been divorced, and living on her own.
My Mother would often take me to Meema's, because by that time Meema was
retired and able to watch me while my Mom went to work. It was a real tough
time for me, being moved from place to place so much, and without a father at
that time. But I found a peaceful, safe haven staying with my Grandma for
most of the week. Meema was the most down-to-earth person you'd ever want to
meet. She had a way about her that was sweet, gentle & kind, and yet she also
had a way of letting me know when I did wrong or said something I shouldn't
have said. But she never failed to show her love whether I was good or bad.
I can always remember Meema taking me to her Nazarene church every Sunday.
Of course when I was old enough, I began attending Sunday school, then being
brought back upstairs to sit with her during the service that morning.
During the week, my Grandma always had her quite time with the Lord, and you
could find her more times than not sitting in her little chair reading the
Bible or listening to a gospel program on the radio. She loved listening to
Billy Graham. I can't count the times I've heard her praying for someone,
from the neighbor next store to her own family, or for one of her Grandkids.
When I heard her praying just for me, I knew I held a very special place in
her heart. But she loved and prayed for all her grandkids.
I remember the house she lived in at that time. I remember having so much fun
playing out back of her house. She would put an old blanket up over across
two clothes lines as a tent, and I'd put my toys under there and she'd play
with me for hours. Or, on a real hot night, my Grandma would let me sleep on
the floor in the living room with a big fan blowing down on me keeping me
cool. But the most fun time of all was when I got to go to Vacation Bible
School over the summmer. Actually it was like a summer camp. We learned
about Jesus, and how to make crafts.
Then when I was five years old, my mother remarried, and we moved to another
part of town about 8-10 miles from Meema's. My Mother & Stepdad never went
to church or professed to have any form of religion. But the whole time I was
growing up, I knew my Grandma was on her knees daily on my behalf. There
were many times I'd find myself in trouble or in an accident, and I know
without a doubt that I was sheltered by the hand of God because I had a
prayer warrior holding me up before the Lord continuously. You see, when my
Grandma gave her heart to the Lord years ago, she gave her all to Him, and
over time, He answered one of her deepest desires in prayer....my salvation!
It took quite a few years for the Lord to get my attention, but He was
faithful to keep after me until I surrender to His call upon my life.
Unfortunitly, Meema never got to see me come to know Jesus, but then again, I
believe she was sitting next to Jesus when I said "Yes Lord, here I am ...
save me!" Nothing in this world is sweeter than seeing a Grandma, Grandpa,
Mother or father praying daily on their knees for a loved one, friend or
neighbor. God bless them ... those that have gone on, and those that still
praying every day and night to our Father who is in Heaven! If Meema were
still here, her prayer for me would go something like this......
Lord, thank you for the privilege of coming to You daily on behalf of
my grandchildren. How I love them! Yet I know You love them even more. Help
me to pray what's on Your heart for them. Enable me to be a godly
grandmother, one my grandchildren will want to imitate. Show me ways to bless
them in words and actions. Amen.
A final word for Grandparents:
Grandchildren not only need our prayers, but our reassurance and our
spiritual influence. Some of our happiest grandparenting times come
when we are truly dedicated to the Lord and our grandchildren want to
emulate our faith.
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