Her

Blue carpet lined the halls of Stringers. A stark contrast to the white washed walls. We walked past the parlors and up the steps, into a small kitchen area.  There he sat. His feet spread apart, elbows on his knees.  I didn't see my dad in a suit very often and saw tears in  his eyes even less.  But that day was unlike any before and any after.

She was gone. His mom, my Mamaw. And as a child, I didn't understand the depth of the pain he felt, still feels even now. My mom's dad carried me back out those big, glass doors. But in my mind and heart, I can replay that scene over and over, even though I was just a child.

Many years later, as I prepared for my wedding day, my mother offered a piece of advice that I wouldn't fully understand the impact of until years later.

Love his mother just like you love me.  It will mean more to him one day than you will ever know.

This woman loved her son, her family. Her brown eyes danced when she laughed.  And she hid years of hurt behind a silent smile. Her life held more than I could have even imagined. And as I came to know and love this woman over the years, my mother's words echoed in my heart.

Love her.

And I tried to love her, and I did love her. There is so much I see of her daily with us, like the looks I get from anyone of my three boys that have her facial expressions engraved in them.  Or the compassion she had for others.  I see it in the way my husband loves his family and thinks of others before himself.  It is manifest in our oldest son and in the way he longs to comfort and care for others.



Her love for Alabama football that was passed from mother to son.  And now has been passed from father to son. Oh the smile I can just see on her face if she could hear that little voice saying, "Roll Tide!"

She was driven.  Driven by the things and people she loved. Driven to love and give beyond herself. As I watch and converse with my sister-in-law, I see that determination as she strives to love her family and family of friends.  She's driven to succeed in school and make something of her life.



And this time three years ago, I saw a familiar scene in a whole new way. As that man in a suit, sitting in that kitchen grieving for his mother was my husband.  And I watched the way our boy loved his daddy so tenderly.  In my heart, I understand the words my mother spoke so many years before.

I love you, Glenda Stephens...and miss you more with each passing day.  Though you didn't give birth to me, you were my mom in so many ways. Thank you for loving me and for raising the wonderful man that is my husband.

Your grandsons are growing up so fast. We are doing our best to raise them to be godly young men. My hope is they turn out to be even half the man their dad is.  Til I see you again...Love you, Mom!