Today I want to take a minute to honor the “grand” ladies in my life. I came into the world with a “Ma” (one great great grandmother), a “Momo” (great grandmother), a “Mama May” (another great grandmother), a “Mimi” (grandmother) and a “Gran’mom (grandmother). Was I doted on by a small army of women??? You bet!
I never really knew “Ma”, she passed away before I got the chance. My Mama May, Momo, and Mimi all lived in the small town of Atkins. My Gran’mom lived in Russellville and then Little Rock. My feisty Gran’mom lives in my hometown of Grand Prairie, Texas now…just a few minutes from Mom and Dad. Sadly, all the others have passed. Fortunately for me, I am blessed with a treasure chest of memories, feminine strength and grit, and lots of love.
We all have stories of the people who have touched us. Just like yours, mine are stories filled with both tragedy and joy, failures and successes, strengths and weaknesses, solemnity and humor, and I am blessed to say “a whole lotta love”.
I’ve had times in life where I’ve had to be strong and “pull myself up by the bootstraps” so to speak. I totally give God the credit for any strength I have had when I didn’t think I could go on; but God has also used the legacy of women in my life to remind me of the strength I come from. Between them, they are women who survived illnesses, the Great Depression, and World Wars. These are women who survived the death of a child, which no one should have to do; who struggled to feed their families, but did; who survived job losses and crop losses; who survived raising a family while their husband was overseas fighting in a war. These are women whose hands have picked cotton, planted gardens, crocheted slippers for about a hundred great grandchildren, who have quilted, who have nursed the sick for generations, who have sewn, who have crafted, who have made homemade pie crusts and biscuits, who have run a business, worked in a factory, driven across country, milked cows, given many spanking and even more hugs, who have turned the pages of treasured books and their well worn Bibles.
These are also the women who while being incredibly strong, have given me some of the most tender moments….dipping orange sherbet into a bowl on a hot summer’s day, making my favorite meal of chicken and dumplins when I came for a visit, playing with me and reading to me when I was little, letting me “sit in” on a quilting bee when I was young (and with my very own quilting square), clapping whenever I sang ANY song at all (and no matter how off key that might be), listening to me talk about boys, teaching me to shell purple hull peas, making my favorite oatmeal cookies, driving from Arkansas to Texas to see me in ballgames, concerts, recitals or plays.
I wish I could share all the stories that are so precious and dear, but time and space do not allow. But a tiny peek into their worlds….two of these matriarchs would go fishing together and impress their families with their “catch”. The funny part is, they would secretly stop by a fish market after a day of not even having a nibble on their poles and bring home their fish….presented, I’m sure, with a twinkle in their mischievous eyes. One had an elderly man come visit her in the hospital during her final days to pay his respects, because as a young boy he stopped by the store she ran, and she would give him a Baby Ruth candy bar each day, knowing he had no money. Her kindness was emblazoned in his memory. Another, drove twin infant boys from Florida to New Jersey in the hot summer of 1942, while her husband was away in a war. She had a clothes line stretched across the inside of the car where she would hang the cloth diapers to dry, and she stopped at a farm once to milk a cow and pasteurized the milk herself to feed to her boys when she ran out of milk on the way.
These are the women who taught my parents how to love and parent, who in turn taught me to love and parent. I am grateful and I am blessed.
