Momaw
My only living grandparent–Momaw–turned 90 this year. We celebrated with a surprise party given by her children and grandchildren, but how do you rightfully appreciate 90 years of living? I can’t even imagine all that she has seen in 90 years. The wars, the economic changes, the social changes, the family dynamic changes. I can, however, imagine the chicken n’ dumplin’s she used to make and the homemade ice cream–the kind where everyone in the family has to pitch in and turn until each person’s arm hurts and you’re forced to pass it to the next person, but it’s sooooo good. I can also imagine the parties we used to have–just me and Momaw–on the couch in front of the TV with whatever we could find to munch on and always a little Mountain Dew. And the words of encouragement about how God is always faithful. And the short walks to church on that little county road–Route 2, I think it was called. And the Easter eggs hidden in the yard around their house for me to find. When I think of Momaw I think of all the yummy meals, but also the companionship that she has provided for so many. I’ve never heard anyone say anything negative about her. When you meet her, you can’t help but love her. Even now, it feels like she is trying to take care of you, by giving you whatever is in her kitchen that someone else has made to take home with you, or by giving you peppermints or Werther’s, or by wanting you to take a nap on her couch because you are tired while she puts a blanket over you. I realize now that making a meal for someone isn’t about the perfect ingredients or cooking style. It’s about taking advantage of a moment while someone is in your home to love. Momaw helped teach me that in the way that she loves people.