|| Lessons on How to Change a Life From the Mind of Grandma Rose ||

Breanne Mecham
May 13, 2024
5 min read

“For there is joy enough in the little finger of a great saint such as yonder lady, to waken all the dead things of the universe to life.”

-C.S. Lewis

For as long as I can remember, my siblings and I would spend our summers in the little mountain town of Susanville, CA with my Grandma Rose and Grandpa Robin. Classic do-gooders, Grandma Rose and Grandpa Robin were two of the founders of the local homeless shelter. When my sister and I would visit, we would often find ourselves in the ministry's kitchen helping with dinner, in the dinning room sorting lunches for folks to stop by and grab or outside, playing with kids from the shelter. As we got older, my grandparents took it upon themselves to see to the running of the associated thrift store, to which all of the proceeds went back to the ministry. I didn’t hold in high esteem my time at the shelter with my grandparents as a kid and usually rolled my eyes at “having” to go.

Thank goodness we grow out of the foolishness of childhood.

I could have never guessed that my life would be forever changed by one sleepy afternoon in a little thrift store, working alongside my Grandma Rose.

Finding great enjoyment in sorting donated clothes for the sole purpose of getting first picks, I found myself at twenty-three years old, in the summer of 2013, working with my Grandma at the Crossroads Thrift Store. The day was coming to a close, my stomach was growling and my mind was fixated entirely on myself. Nothing new there. I sorted as Granny began counting the till and seeing to the more responsible aspects of the shop. I was thinking about my tired feet and the pizza she promised me, when the little bell above the entrance announced a new customer.

Great.

I have no desire to be here any longer, I do not want to talk to a customer, I’m hungry, I’m tired.

Selfish girl.

Thank goodness my Grandma Rose was not like me.

I peel my entitled glance up to take in the object of my annoyance. It was a man. Middle aged, dirty blond hair, worn clothes and un-kept. Imagine Smoky Lonesome from Fried Green Tomatoes. Of particular note, his eyes were glued to the ground, shoulders slumped, dull eyes with hands clasped in front of him. Granny greeted him and he embarked on his search for whatever he was looking for. He shuffled around the store making some indecisive choices, holding up pants that appeared too long or too wide and ended up in the women’s shoes with a defeated look on his face.

“Get it together buddy,” I thought, still hungry, still tired.

“Good afternoon sir, my name is Rose, welcome to our little shop. We are so glad to have you,” came the gentle voice of Granny, who had been studying him with her kind, wise gaze from behind the counter.

She inquired what he was looking for and found that he had a job interview coming up and he wanted to dress well for it. He had not been able to find work for quite some time and, owning nothing in the world, felt like acquiring a job would be impossible.

“And lucky they would be to have such a strong and well spoken man…”

“Well, the gentlemen’s pants are over in this corner….”

“What is your size?.....”

“Do you have a preference on color and fit of shirt…..”

“Do you have a good pair of shoes? Socks?”

“These will do nicely on your frame…”

On and on my Granny waited on this man. She took him to the little dressing room and assisted him as he tried on items, giving a polite nod on what she found to be flattering and honest feedback on what was not. She affirmed the good choice of his selection and led him to the till to settle the bill. Watching them walk to the counter, I noted the man’s spine had straightened a notch or two as if he had was a Rockefeller at Barneys in New York.

Granny rang him up and allowed him to pay what he believed fair. She sent him on his way with a water bottle and a smile, wishing him luck at his big interview and encouraging him to return once it happened so she could hear how it went.

Up until that afternoon, I had always fancied metamorphosis to be a slow process. Not discernable to the human eye, taking years to come to fruition.

That afternoon, on a corner thrift store in a sleepy town, I watched a grown man transform in the order of only a few moments. The catalyst? My Granny. A little 73 year old lady who stood five foot flat, but only after she teased her hair. No fancy pretense, no posturing of grandeur. Just love.

As I watched the man leave, his formerly slumped and defeated posture, unwilling to meet Grandma’s gaze just a few moments before, had his shoulders back as he smiled at her. Upper spine reengaged, this new man’s head was raised and in his previously vacant eyes was the beginning of something. A twinkle, perhaps? He left the store and my Granny went right back to sorting the till, as if she hadn’t completely changed a life.

It was just another normal day in the life of Grandma.

I watched a human soul who came defeated, leave with hope. Who came valueless, leave worthy. Who came unseen, leave known. From his posture to the new lightness in his features, this man had just experienced a rarity in this world. He experienced the pure and selfless kindness from a woman whom he could do nothing for. When we are called as believers to be the hands and feet of Jesus, I believe this is what that looks like, and how easy it was. Kindness costs very little.

Now, ten years later, I think about that day frequently.

Does a man’s spine straighten after we interact?

Will a stranger’s thoughts turn from “no one cares”, to “someone sees.”

Could light return to a woman’s features once we speak?

Could a stranger’s life transform in the matter of minutes from sharing a room with me?

The goal image of the woman I hope to someday be. To be like Grandma Rose, changing lives with simple love and kindness, and then right back on with my business. Just a sleepy afternoon, in a corner store in a little town called Susanville where a stranger’s life was transformed forever.