Grandma Cynthia’s Words

2007 just wasn’t my year. It was my quintessential “I don’t fit in” year. And when 2008 rolled around and things weren’t getting much better, I wasn’t very surprised. My two best friends, on the other hand, were–and decided to do something about it. They had been on mission trips with their youth group, but I wasn’t that big on church (and that this one was filled with strangers). But one phone call led to another, and the end of July ’08 found me scrunched in the backseat of a minivan to Pennsylvania with no way out. When I got there, though, I met a truly inspirational woman–and my life changed.

I first met her on my service assignment in Albemarle Park, a little place in the outskirts of York. Here in this park, there were dozens of children–but no parents. Worried, I asked the nearest youth leader where all of the adults were, and she told me that this place was a “day-care” center for underprivileged children in this dangerous part of the city. Aghast, I looked around, and noticed that not only were there dozens upon dozens of children running rampant, there were also no fences, hardly any toys, a broken swing set–and only two adults trying to fend off chaos. It was then that Miss Cynthia saved the day for the first time.

As she got out of her car, I immediately knew that she was the authority in this place. She was tall, in her mid-70s, with bright gray hair, and an air of confidence about her that intimidated me at first. But what caught my attention the most was that nearly all of the children ran up to her upon her arrival yelling, “Grandma, Grandma! Look what I made! Hi Grandma!” A leader noticed my surprise and told me, “Leanna, she isn’t grandmother to all of them through blood. She is their foster-grandmother.” Still slightly confused, I decided to introduce myself to this wonder-woman. As I walked over to her car, I saw her chastising children for fighting, fixing outfits, and above all, giving lots of hugs all around. It was when I got to the other side of the car, though, that I realized what a true heroine this woman was.

“Grandma” Cynthia Coates had a stroke 15 years ago, and has never regained function in the left side of her body. She walks very slowly but assuredly with a cane, but to move she must essentially carry half of her body. I was completely amazed by her capability to do so, and to do so much with these children–and as we began to talk, my amazement only deepened.

You can find Grandma Cynthia at Albemarle Park, Monday-Friday of every week (“except holidays, of course”) taking care of these young children. When I asked her why she did it, she told me, “Honey, I’ve had a great deal of hardship in my life. But if I lived like I could never do anything that I wanted, or that I wasn’t good enough to do it, then I wouldn’t be the only one who suffered. See these children? They need me. And I need them. The world is full of purpose, of beauty waiting for you–you just need to keep your eyes open, honey.” I remained at her side all week, listening to her stories. And never before had I so powerfully felt that I belonged, that there was a future for me filled with joy that I would soon embrace, no matter what I thought stood in my way.

It’s been a few years now, and I wonder if Grandma Cynthia can still be found on her bench in Albemarle Park on a weekday. Maybe I’ll never know. But I think of her all the time, and how just a few of her words opened my eyes to the beauty all around me.