doin our best...

My Grandma Dovie used to say, " all you can do is your best, and that's a lot." She raised three boys, all born within a year or two of each other. Only 17 when she had my Dad, her first, and my uncles followed soon after. They could afford three pair of Levis for each boy, one to wear, one to wash and one ready for the next day. She always had three pair of jeans drying on her clothesline.
When her kids grew up, she opened her own business. When my grandpa had a stroke, she cared for him until he died. Through it all, she was active in the Baptist church, the Southern Baptists, the spaghetti dinner, love your neighbor Baptists, the kind that brought food over when you needed some home cooked comfort, the kind that spent more time doing for people then judging people. Grandma was a doer, she always did her best.

She and my grandpa visited me when I lived in Wales, the three of us had quite an adventure touring the U.K. together. While grandpa and I talked about our favorite British poets, grandma would be out talking to people about their kids. When I had Annalise, too young, too barely married, she and my grandpa became our biggest fans, they didn't care about the crumbling marriage, or the fact that I was soon to be divorced, they knew I was doing my best, just like they always told me.

She still does her best, even in her nursing home. Alzheimer's took part of her away, far away, still she sits and tells stories, talks about what she's going to do and how much she loves everyone. The nurses love her, they call her lovey dovie.

"All you can do is your best, and that's a lot. Make your mistakes and move on." Some days are full of mistakes, or obstacles or turning points, some days lay before you like a perfect paragraph, just keep on going.