The Moses Connection

The Moses Connection

From Chicken Soup for the Grandparent's Soul

The Moses Connection

If you listen carefully to children you will have plenty about which to laugh.

Steve Allen

When my children were in kindergarten and first grade, my husband and I owned and operated a family-type restaurant in a beach resort town.

Every weekend it was hectic as vacationers descended upon the town to enjoy their “fun in the sun,” go out for an evening meal and enjoy the amusements and activities along the boardwalk.

During the busy times, my mother would come down from the city by train to baby-sit my children allowing me to work.

My mother’s petite stature and pure white hair made her look quite a bit older than her chronological age.

But needless to say she was a wonder with the children.

Grandma Sissy, as my two sons called her, would arrive after work on Friday evening and leave Sunday evening.

Every Sunday morning, before our business opened, we’d all head to church.

More times then not, because of the summer crowds, we’d have to sit in two pews, usually one behind the other.

One morning in particular, when my husband, my five-year-old son and I sat in the row directly behind her and our other son, we noticed Andy seemed unusually fascinated with her hair.

He kept caressing it.

Finally, after a few minutes he turned to us and asked in a loud voice, “Is Grandma Sissy Moses?”

Before I could respond in any way, several nearby parishioners smiled; a few even giggled.

Totally unaware of the stir he caused, our son continued. “I bet she is,” he declared. “She’s got the same long, white hair.” He gently patted it once again.

I smiled and whispered, “No, she’s not Moses.”

“Well,” he continued. “Grandma looks just like the picture in Sunday School.”

More smiles from those unsuspecting listeners. Andy grew silent.

I assumed my answer satisfied his curiosity.

Several minutes passed then we heard, “Grandma, are you Moses’ mother?”

No one in close proximity, including Grandma Sissy, could hold in the laughter.

I quickly tried to explain the timeline, but Andy wouldn’t have it.

He didn’t give up.

He countered with, “Well, is she his grandmother?”

By now, laughter being highly contagious in the most unlikely of places, had spread to more folks than needed.

It could have been called a small commotion.

I noticed the priest stretching his head above the congregation trying to locate and identify the disruption and could see several people on the other side of the aisle looking in our direction.

Within a few seconds one of the ushers whisked past us and made his way to the pulpit.

Oh boy, I thought, we’re going to be asked to leave. But to my surprise, the priest smiled and addressed his audience.

“I’ve just been informed that one of our very young parishioners believes his grandmother is related to Moses. Will our special guest please rise and satisfy our curiosity?”

Grandma Sissy stood.

The entire assemblage broke into laughter and applauded.

“See, I was right,” said Andy. “Everyone else thinks so, too.”

Helen Colella

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