Tuesday, January 11, 2011

My Mamaw

The remarkable woman in the picture below is my Mamaw. The date on the picture is January 1955. She was 38 years old when this picture was taken.

I love it that she's wearing black and white saddle oxfords and a dress while sweeping snow off the sidewalk. My Mamaw was an Appalachian lady.

I love the old truck in the background too.

My grandparents home was across the pasture from us and we loved going there. We didn't visit;  it was our second home.

Mamaw went to Heaven six months after my Papaw. I was so filled with grief that I wrote this poem about her.

My Mamaw
She made big cathead biscuits and apple stack cakes,
time to read her Bible and very few mistakes.
She's the one who first told me about lying and such,
and I always knew that she loved me so much.
I could see in her life, time and time again,
that she trusted Jesus as her closest Friend.

Long summer evenings we spent playing so hard,
and she would stand on her porch and call us in from her yard
because her favorite preacher was on black and white TV
telling us about Jesus and His death on calvary.
Then, with love in her heart, she would watch us walk home,
and she would pray for her grandkids when she was alone.

Plain and simple language is what she used when she spoke,
words like "yonder" and "reckon" and "vessels" and "poke".
Her home was a haven for mongrels and strays,
and they lived a good life under the care that she gave.
Her actions were always true, confident, and clear,
and loving her family was her lifelong career.

"Mansion on the Hilltop" was her favorite song,
and now when I hear it I always sing along.
I think about my Mamaw, walking now on streets of gold
and the love that she shared while on her earthly road.
I know, without a doubt, that I'll see her again
because I, too, have trusted Jesus as my closest Friend.

See you soon,

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