"She LIVED Hers"

The Power Of Three Little Words


I've had Mama on my mind a lot lately.  My parents' 55th wedding anniversary would have been this past November 9, and the anniversary of Mama's death was December 8.  It is a sentimental, moody time of year for me, with lots of memories.  I get my sensitivity to things like this from Mama, actually.  She always seemed to remember the anniversaries, both happy and sad, especially concerning my Granny, her own Mama.

Mama was 33 when Granny died, and in the room with her when she departed this life and went to Heaven.  I was 33 when I watched Mama go there as well.  I don't really put a lot of stock in "magic numbers" but sometimes there are patterns that I can't help noticing.  I think Mama at age 33 was much more mature than I was.  She had given birth to my brother and me and raised us while taking care of Granny and looking after Dad, keeping the home fires burning.  I think that having human children grows people up a lot.  I have no human children and I think that has allowed me to hang onto a little childishness of my own.

Sentiment and childishness aside, I remember one thing that she always said about Granny.  "She LIVED hers."  She was talking about how Granny lived out her faith and didn't just talk about it.  Granny gave birth to and raised 9 children, each child with his or her own personality, problems and talents.  She loved them all despite the heartbreak some of them brought to her.  This is a mother's heart, to love her children.

Mama was the youngest of those 9 kids, and the one still living at home when my Granddad died.  She was 15 years old, and something of a handful by all recollections, including her own.  She told me how hard it was for her because some of the older siblings tried to advise Granny about how to finish Mama's upbringing.  "I don't believe I'd let her have a car or get her license..."  "Did you let her do that to her hair?"  "I don't think she needs to be going-here-doing-this-seeing-that-boy-or-running-around-with-that-crowd..."  Mama said she just wanted Granny to tell her what to do, and she promised that if Granny would be the one voice she had to listen to, she would do her very best to obey the rules and not cause trouble.  I can't imagine what that must have been like, for either of them.

Mama must have seen sides to Granny that no one else in the world would have known about.  I know that there were times near the end of Granny's life when Mama was so exhausted she could barely move, but Granny insisted on Mama being the one to look after every little detail.  When Dad's parents were nearing the end of their own independence and Mama and Dad were at the end of their ropes, Mama would sometimes go out on the back deck to have a cry and sling snot for a few minutes...then go back in to handle another round with Mamaw and Papaw.  That's one thing I have to give both my parents credit for; they loved each other's parents just like they loved their own.  They spent the majority of their marriage taking care of someone besides themselves and their kids.

When Mama uttered those words, "She LIVED hers", her voice had a reverence about it that wasn't often there.  There was a respect, almost an awe, about how she viewed Granny and the way Granny had lived her life and faith.  What would probably surprise Mama now is that I see her the same way.  Yes, she was a handful, and thank God she was!  She was sweet, and sometimes spicy.  She could smell BS a mile away and didn't have any patience for it.  She actually didn't have a whole lot of patience, period, for most of her life.  But for all the little foibles, bad words, inappropriate humor and times she flew off the handle, there were hugs and love, apologies when she felt she had been wrong, humble moments and tears when she thought she might have hurt me.  She could not stand a hypocrite, and she could not stand to see someone being mistreated.  She always rooted for the underdog, shared what she had and made sure nobody was ever hungry in her presence.  I never questioned Mama's faith in God.  She didn't preach about it, she just answered questions when I had them, and walked out her faith the best way she knew how.  She was not perfect, but she was real.  Mama lived hers.

Mama LIVED hers.

Now I am trying to live mine.  I hope Mama's mansion in Heaven has a little plot of ground out back of it for my shack to be built on.  If I can get anywhere close to her neighborhood there I'll be grateful.