I feel very blessed to have had examples of strong Christian womanhood in my life. My mother was high strung, very strict, and we fought a lot until I got married—when “she could finally enjoy me and not worry about me anymore”. She calmed a great deal then in spite of the fact that she was going through diagnosis which would end up being her third and final bout with cancer (I refuse to honor this disease with a capital letter). She actually developed a sense of calm, I think, as she gave this worry over to God. You know, you realize that God is all you need when God is the only hope you have. She passed 3 years after I married with calm, grace, and serenity brought about by that deep faith.
Both of my grandmothers affected who I am, but due to the more demonstrative, sharing nature of my Mam Maw, I probably knew her much better as a person. She had had a difficult life. You read earlier of her losing the love of her life at a fairly young age and raising 4 children on her own during the depression. She lost one son when he was 21 to a brain tumor and my mother at 48 to cancer also. She had her eldest and youngest sons left and lived many more years. She seemed content with life and never complained about the hard times and losses of her past. She had a lot of joy in her great-grandchildren—my daughters. By the time she was in her early 80’s, still caring for a big garden and canning on a regular basis, she seemed to be more tired. That did not seem unusual, but what she was hiding was that she had cancer, was treating the pain with aspirin, and going about her business as much as possible. She kept it from us because she was tired and ready to go, and she knew we would encourage treatment. She was taken to the hospital when it became impossible to hide anymore. The hospital determined the diagnosis, she refused treatment, and we took her home with the help of Hospice Care. She died 10 days after the trip to the hospital. To me, she was always a stately lady with dignity and a soft, loving heart of gold.
The other woman who was a profound example of Christian womanhood was my Aunt Margaret, my dad’s never married sister. While I have indicated my dad’s side of the family was not demonstrative, this aunt did demonstrate her love for the Lord and people through service. Had the Southern Baptist Church had nuns, she would have been Mother Superior. We still learn of things she did to care for those who were mentally ill, alcoholics, homeless, elderly, blind, and many others. My aunt kept me every Saturday night and took me to Sunday School and church every Sunday since my dad built race cars and raced late every Saturday night. This obviously was a huge influence on the development of my faith. She walked me through the profession of faith process and was always there for my questions. She obviously cared deeply about me. It is funny to me now to remember that when I was younger, I actually didn’t think she even liked me due to those family traits of not showing affection and being so matter of fact. I had the privilege of visiting and helping to care for her daily during the last several months of her illness. She was so impatient about going to be with the Lord and not liking being dependent on others for her care—impatience and independence also being family traits. I tried to assure her that because of her service, it was taking the Lord longer to prepare a place appropriate for her and that those she had served needed the time and opportunity to serve her back—even though she didn’t like it. Her Southern Baptist funeral was by far the longest I have every attended. To her, I’m sure it was a last shot at saving a few more souls.
No comments:
Post a Comment