What “Granny Clampett” Taught Me about Love

If you’ve ever seen that spunky character Granny Clampett on the old television show The Beverly Hillbillies, you have a pretty good mental picture of my friend Alice. She was about the size of her TV counterpart with long, salt-and-pepper hair pulled back in a tight bun. Her blue eyes danced mischievously despite the fact she was nearing 80.

And from her I learned what God’s love is really like.

Alice’s ramshackle two-story home was on a road I traveled often and occasionally I’d see her outside.  Who is that tiny flannel-clad lady swinging such a big ax?

In the spring of 1995, Alice’s world met mine.

Her older daughter brought her to my Cancer Prayer Support Group meeting. In true Granny Clampett style, Alice didn’t particularly trust strangers and firmly announced that she didn’t know why she had come and wasn’t going to participate. 

But over the ensuing weeks, we all warmed to one another and Alice became like a favorite “granny” to our group. Soon she was suggesting some of her home remedies for the physical woes we experienced:

Soak walnuts in whiskey for a few days to relieve diarrhea.

Nibble on a bit of peach pit for heartburn. “I know they have laetrile in them and it’s poisonous, but it doesn’t hurt me,” she insisted.

For respiratory problems, Alice swore by a mixture of honey, lemon, whiskey, and linseed oil: “If there’s somethin’ down there in your chest, that’ll bring it up!” 

Photo by Vlad Deep on Unsplash

Alice and I developed a special bond because we had the same kind of cancer. Not much else about our lives was the same. 

She had had a tough life, but remembered having felt “a great love for God” when she was only 3. As an adult she took her own three children to church faithfully until their teens.

But then something happened that made Alice feel she wasn’t welcome and she stopped attending. When she came to our support group, it was her first time in decades to set foot inside a church building.

 Every month Alice came to our support-group meeting and occasionally on a Sunday morning, I’d see her sitting in our congregation, smiling at me.

In the spring of 1996 I asked her to be my guest at our church’s Mother-Daughter Banquet. When I picked her up, my jaw dropped…Hair obviously freshly washed and piled in a soft bun. A  bright pink skirt-and-sweater set, accented by a matching jewelry ensemble. Plus a light perfume fragrance. 

“Wow! Do you look beautiful!” I exclaimed. She was beaming now and handed me a crocheted cross bookmark. I told her I would put it my Bible, where I would see it every day and think of her. 

At the banquet, we laughed and even cheered when she won a prize for the oldest mother. 

A few months later Alice was bedridden, nearing death. We read the Psalms together and she announced that she was “ready to go home to God.”

“I love God,” she kept whispering.

“He loves you, too,” I promised her–grateful that she had found her way back to Him.

I can’t recall the first time Alice told me “You’re my best friend.” But I do remember feeling embarrassed by her pronouncement, knowing I had done so little for her. I resisted the temptation to protest, thanked her and hugged her frail body close to mine.

I told her I loved her and that she would be my forever friend…It was our last earthly conversation.

And that’s how my friend Alice taught me about “the overwhelming, never-ending reckless love of God…I couldn’t earn it, and I don’t deserve it.”

Excerpted from When GOD & Cancer Meet ©Lynn Eib, 2002
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Be sure to open in your browser to hear “Reckless Love” by Cory Asbury.