After work, I ran an errand for Jim at the mall and entered through a department store which took me past the Estee Lauder perfume counter.  As (almost) always, I stopped at the sample section, located the fancy, pleated bottle with the gold bow and sprayed a little on my wrist.  Almost instantly, I am transported in time.  My grown up body recedes, and I can see my little girl hands next to the age spotted wrinkled ones of my Grandmother’s.  Youth Dew was *her* perfume.

Grandmother died when I was 12 after a three year on and off battle with ovarian cancer.  Most of my memories of her are somewhat fuzzy, but one of the more vivid memories I do have are associated with the strong smell of Youth Dew.  The bottle in case you haven’t seen it, is shaped like an elegant evening dress and there is a gold bow around the middle attached with gold elastic.  If I was lucky, Grandmother gave me the bow for a bracelet.

I have some other, stronger memories or ideas associated with my Grandmother.  One is of us sitting in a bed reading the Bible.  The other is that she taught me The Lord’s Prayer (whether she actually did or not, I can’t be sure, but I associate my knowledge of the prayer with her) and I can still her her singing, “What a Friend We Have in Jesus.”  Grandmother did not sing this song gently, as a lullaby, with gusto and she didn’t care that she was mostly off key.  She believed.  As I grow older, I do sometimes wonder if she really believed or if the gusto with which she sang was more of an effort to convince herself of the words.  I believe the former, but am, sadly, haunted by the latter in my own prayer life.

What a friend we have in Jesus

All our sins and griefs to bear

What a privilege to carry

Everything to God in prayer.

My prayer life is a struggle.  Grandmother, I can never say for sure, except that she overwhelmingly seemed to trust God and expected his goodness in her life.  Almost like when the Deacon says, “It is time for the Lord to act” at the beginning of the liturgy.  Surety. 

Youth Dew is not my perfume.  There is nothing subtle about it and thus, it belongs to my Grandmother, who I don’t think had much subtlety about her, from what I remember and what my Mom has shared with me from her own memories.  I certainly covet an ounce of her faith.

May God bless you and keep you, may He make His face to shine upon you and grant you peace.