Feisty's in the house.

When I worked as a cardiac RN, my favorite patient population was the elderly. For so many reasons.
They were often very grateful for your care of them and weren't shy about saying so.
They could have the sweetest sense of humor.
They generally were not fearful, so there was a peace about them.
They were wise and filled with wonderful stories from days gone by.
And when they were, on occasion, confused or combative, my heart was stirred to treat them with extra measures of dignity and grace. Hands down, I enjoyed caring for the elderly the most.

In fact, my daughter seems to have inherited this tender spot from me, as she is quite excited about her upcoming homeschool field trip to simply spend time with the elderly in a local nursing home. We're both looking forward to it and I know she'll be blessed by the residents as much as her youthful presence blesses them.

Now, all that being said, there is one other point that comes to mind when I recall my days as a nurse who loved her elderly patient population. Feisty! Some elderly folks can be terribly feisty. You really have no choice but to admire chutzpa when you see it all flared up and glowing in their eyes and, well, tonight I came face to face with Grannie Chutzpah herself.

We stopped at Arby's to grab some dinner. You would too if you had free milkshake coupons, right? (I'm a giver. Enjoy!) So anyway, we were headed for the entry door with our four children when we noticed Grannie slowly shuffling her way to the door from a bit farther away. Our kids love to hold a door for others, so they were pleased to help when we asked them to step aside and let Grannie pass first. Carl held the outer door and Olivia held the inside door.

Grannie? She never made eye contact. Never said thanks. I figured she was just cold. Or maybe just beyond her days of being interested in formalities. In any case, there was nary an acknowledgement that we had been first to the door but forfeited our spot so she could go first. And not only forfeited, but actually WAITED in the cold night air for her to shuffle hurry up and enter the restaurant. Nope. Grannie Chutzpah didn't seem to notice.

As I waited inside for my thoughtful doorstops to rejoin me, I fully intended to step back and let Grannie pass to order first. After all, there was only one of her and there were a half dozen of us H's.

Well, LET. ME. TELL. YOU.

The nanosecond Grannie passed through that second doorway, she could have been mistaken for a model on Meatloaf's Bat Out of Hell album from the 1970's. Folks, she TAZ'd by me in a dizzying fury, her pace so wild that I literally felt a drag of cold air as she passed and urgently told my peanut of a 6 year old to move "NOW!" He had been in her way and I wasn't sure just how far she'd stomp before reversing her engines. She'd have plowed right over him at the rate she was going. It seems she was on a serious bee line straight for the counter to place her order, no doubt panicking that my moderately sized family might beat her to the beef.

Carl was giggling at how frail and small she had seemed in the parking lot, and how TOTALLY FEISTY she became once she perceived she could beat us to the counter to place her order. And he laughed even harder when I swiped a ladybug off her shoulder and she turned and shot me a cold glare that said, "Tangle tails with me, sister. I dare ya." Shiver! She was poised to take me on, I tell you. Not to worry though, because I make it a policy to never rumble with feisty little grannies in public places. But truth be told? I think she could have taken me.

And now,...an OH-SO-FUNNY blast from the past. Turn up your speakers and, TRUST ME, you're going to laugh (I picture Grannie Chutzpah in this audio).

Toni