My maternal grandmother was the strongest woman I’ve ever known.  She had to bury five of her children, care for her husband who suffered two debilitating strokes and finally put him in the ground as well.  She always maintained a positive attitude even though her heart was breaking.

She grew up on the plains of Montana in a typical pioneering family.  They used buffalo chips to get a fire started, washed their clothes in a nearby stream, cut wood and worked hard for everything they had. Eventually she married a farmer, who hated farming.  Instead he would hire others to tend to the land and cows as he worked for the power company constructing lines that would carry electricity to the rural communities.  She never complained about having to feed seven children and a group of farm hands.  She’d rise at the crack of dawn, punch down and knead the bread dough…

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