I arrived home last night after a lovely couple of days away to a piece of mail from my dad. I was expecting something from him so it did not surprise me but what did surprise me was the that the thickness of the envelope did not match what I was expecting. I squeezed it, wondering if he had done that thing that dads do and included a wad of cash. I opened it and found not a wad of cash but something much more valuable: a small book with a note from my dad that said:
'this little book belonged to my mother - I suspect she got it from her father who had the same kind, sweet disposition she had. I think of her when I hold it - since her death - I think she would like for you to have it'
In an instant, I was flooded with emotion as I held this little thing that, by its used and tattered state, was obviously held and cherished often by my precious Mama, my grandmother. She was a quiet and kind woman; when she is talked about among friends and family, the common word that is used to describe her is sweet. And that is what she was: sweet. (as sugar). She dedicated her life to raising and loving her 5 boys and then countless grandchildren. (and when I say countless, I mean it. It's not that I'm too lazy to count them, I really don't know how many of us there are! It seems as though every time there's a family reunion a cousin I never knew existed is suddenly in the mix). Mama's time with us here on earth ended abruptly, unexpectedly, and quite dramatically. In the late afternoon of May the 10th, 2001, Mama lost her husband of nearly 65 years. The very next morning, May the 11th, the grief that gripped Mama's giant of a heart proved to be too much and she decided to leave us too. It was a 24 hours that will live vividly in all of our memories forever...but the legacy of a life well lived will live even stronger.
So, back to the book. Although on the surface, Mama seemed to be a simple woman, there was an immeasurable depth of character about her. There was an innate ability within her to love, to nurture and to quietly encourage all those who were around her. Her eyes and her smile were the kind that pierced straight through all things superficial and melted your heart. I do not have any concrete memories of Mama teaching me about Jesus or reading the Bible to me - but I remember that Bibles were everywhere, always open and she was always humming a familiar hymn. Looking back now, I realize that Mama lived her life as one whose heart was yielded to Jesus. As I try now to walk out my calling, I look back and realize what a firm foundation she laid out for me. She did it, however, with such a quiet grace, such humility, that it has taken me this long to realize it. It all came together for me last night as I held this tiny treasure in my hands...
I remember the day that we cleaned out Mama and Papa's apartment after they died. I found a note in Mama's handwriting that said 'live each day in a way that you would want to be remembered.' In our haste to clean and vacate their apartment for the next tenants, we threw away and got rid of many things that I wish we had kept. I don't have anything of Mama's. All I have are memories. Until now. This little book, all tattered and used and worn is quite possibly the greatest gifts I have ever received. It is Mama. In all of it's smallness and meekness, it is power-packed with the very truths that Mama stood on:
This is quite a treasure. I want to thank my dad for passing this on to me - for letting go of something that is clearly precious to him and sharing it with me. I feel as though he is right - that Mama would want me to have this. This little book will never be too far from me.
I love you, Mama. Thank you for the gift of love that you deposited in all of us. Thank you for instilling something in me that has shaped me in ways I'll probably never fully grasp.
Rebecca of the Bible was known as a Matriarch - her very name in Hebrew means 'connection' and is derived from the Semitic root meaning 'to tie, couple, join, or secure' - Rebecca Bailey, my Mama, lived out the meaning of her name. And even now, in death, she continues to do so.
