Anointed Thought

Lessons for Life

Finally, brothers and sisters, rejoice! Strive for full restoration, encourage one another, be of one mind, live in peace. And the God of love and peace will be with you.   2 Corinthians 13:11

While visiting my mother in Texas this past summer, my sons and I went with her to visit one of her aunts.  Although Aunt Joyce was recovering from knee surgery, her eyes sparkled as she shared stories of her childhood providing me with wonderful insights into our family history that I had wanted to discuss for some time.

The stories were touching.  Her mother – my great-grandmother – died when she three years old. Her father then set out to raise her and some of her siblings on his own.  Her voice softened as she spoke of the man who apparently cared deeply and well for her.  She said he was her hero.  She lost him to what she believes was an incident rooted in hatred when she was ten.

Papa, as she called him, was walking home from work one day when a man fatally struck him with a vehicle.  Though it was never proven, many people in the family suspected the incident was racially motivated.  Papa was white and Little Mama, Aunt Joyce’s mother, was mulatto.  Even though Little Mama had died seven years prior to Papa’s death, many people in the community never forgave Papa for marrying a black woman.  That was a sad day for Aunt Joyce as she not only lost her best friend and protector, but life as she knew it changed drastically as she was separated from her siblings and placed in the care of a relative.

She talked for a while about the taunts and insults she endured as a teenager.  How neither blacks nor whites accepted her.  Although she was black, her silky straight hair and fair complexion spoke more of her white heritage. Blacks held that against her.  Whites couldn’t overlook the beautiful honey notes in her complexion that reflected the blackness she never denied.  She lived a lonely life as a bi-racial teen growing up in a highly segregated southeast Texas community.  Having grown up in the area, I could well imagine the difficulty she endured.

When recounting the story, her voice never broke.  There were hints of sadness and notes of regret here and there, but the tone of her conversation seemed rinsed with tilts of forgiveness.  She laughed and smiled at the memory of her beautiful father and her eyes danced as she spoke of the many children the Lord blessed her with as an adult. Her entire demeanor bespoke peace and love. She had moved past it all and come to a place of strength, beauty and acceptance.  She had even placed her desire to move back to the country on a shelf.  She was feeling as though she was too old to care for a home in a rural setting.

I could see her in that setting.  It was the backdrop of my upbringing.  The place I call home even though I moved to the city myself many years ago.  It is also the setting that I recall some of my fondest memories of one of my favorite people ever: my grandmother; Aunt Joyce’s older sister and my mother’s mother.  She was so loving and gentle, very much like Aunt Joyce, that when she died all the flowers and trees in her yard wilted.  It’s as though they felt her departure from the earth.  We understood their reaction for her death took our breath away as well.  All of us:  her husband, her children, her many grandchildren, her sisters, brothers, family and friends.  She was loved beyond measure and returned it with abundance.

After listening to Aunt Joyce that day, my love for her and for my late grandmother grew.  I had a renewed appreciation for being their descendant and felt a greater measure of strength.  I was also encouraged to look for ways to move past offenses I may have encountered from others so that I could live as my late grandmother had and  as Aunt Joyce does:  lovingly at peace and peacefully loving.

When preparing to leave Aunt Joyce’s house that day, my sons ran into her apartment.  They had been outside on her terrace looking around.  Their excitement was obvious as they rushed through the door saying, “Mom, Mom, you’ll never believe what happened!  A squirrel just came up to us and stood at our feet. He didn’t move.  He just stood there!”

Seeing their excitement, Aunt Joyce began laughing.  She said, “Oh!  He just wants some peanuts. We buy them for those little critters and they come for them when they are hungry.”  She thought for a moment and added, “I wish you could have seen Big Boy.  He would ring our doorbell when he came.  He would take six peanuts one at a time.  As I gave the peanuts to him, he would put one on each side of his mouth until he had three peanuts on each side.  He would then scutter away. He hasn’t been here for a while.  I hope he’s okay.”

“You give the squirrels peanuts?” one of my sons asked.

“And they ring the doorbell?” another chided disbelievingly.

Aunt Joyce just laughed saying, “Yes.  They are not as scary as you may think.”

The words went deep upon hearing them. How many things that appear frightening are not as scary as we think; be them situations involving furry little friends or something bigger like painful memories or the loss of a loved one?  I wonder if Aunt Joyce would say the same thing about the difficult life situations and painful memories she’s experienced.

Based on the love witnessed through her words and her demeanor that summer day, I think her answer to that question would be a resounding ‘Yes!’  Through her actions she reminds us to be gentle with the things that frighten us; give them a little attention before they do any damage. It’s like feeding little furry things that could eat the wires in our homes. Through our love they learn to ring the doorbell and scutter away once attended to.