I have an Aunt

I have an Aunt Ellen that sends me a card every holiday. All the big ones—Christmas, birthdays, Easter—and the little ones, too—Halloween, 4th of July, anniversaries, and all those in between. She is 90 years old and still takes time to send us love. Her notes are personal and her love is endless. She is a Great Aunt, my grandmother’s twin sister, and she deserves every bit of that capitol “G”. When I visit, there is a fresh Texas Sheet Cake waiting for me and I cook often with a cast iron skillet that she gave me recently. The skillet is over 100 years old and seasoned to perfection. She received it as a wedding gift from her mother. I love to think of all the meals that were prepared for her family throughout these 100 plus years as I use it to prepare meals for my family now. What an honor to have it in my hands and to have her in my life. She makes me so proud to say, “I have an Aunt,” in Ellen Marie Randall.

I have another Aunt Ellen—my mother’s sister—who has a heart filled with so much grace for those around her, I wonder sometimes if she remembers to keep some grace in reserve for herself. I hope she does. We all need a little grace-for-self in reserve. My Aunt makes me feel special in only the way an Aunt can. She is an amazing artist and has allowed me to hold one of her paintings hostage on a wall in my home. I mentioned that I loved it and it showed up in a package on my doorstep a week later. I didn’t intend for her to send it to me but that’s what she does. She sends out love, and it comes in many forms. I wrote a post about hanging on and letting go in October and mentioned Fall leaves in that post. I had a box of her Virginia, Fall-colored leaves on my table that week. She gets me and I love being able to call her Aunt and Friend. I’m eternally grateful that because of Ellen Diane Taylor, I can say, “I have an Aunt.”

My father’s sister, my Aunt Betty Jo, lives in Ohio and I haven’t seen her in at least 20 years. But as a child, she was one of my favorite people in the world. When we visited my dad’s family in West Virginia, I always wanted to stay with Aunt Betty Jo across the river in Ohio. She lived in a tiny house and raised dogs. I can’t tell you what kind of dogs, I just remember that as a young child I would walk beside this woman that could throw a 40-pound bag of dog food over her shoulder like it was full of feathers and watch with joy as she let me get dirty right alongside of her cleaning the dog cages and holding the new puppies. They also raised Emu’s and my uncle was small enough to be able to ride these big birds. My cousin and I would laugh and laugh, telling each other stories of him being on the Swiss Family Robinson beach racing these birds for fun. My Aunt Betty Jo taught me that being a woman didn’t mean being weak. Mother used to tell me I looked like my Aunt Betty Jo and that gave me pride. She was one of the first truly funny ladies I can remember being around and she makes the world’s best chocolate gravy. A little bit for the gravy, but a whole lot for the strong, funny lady she is, I love being able to say, “I have an Aunt,” in Betty Jo Goss.

I have an Aunt Monty that feels like a kindred spirit. Her house has always been warm and welcoming. She is a country lady in every sense of the word and I love her for every bit of country she has exposed me to. Food is meant to be fried and milk is meant to be chocolate. I have many childhood memories of the woods around their house. We spent a lot of time there when it was safe for kids to roam the woods until mom whistled us home. Aunt Monty has an infectious laugh and a compassionate heart. She is sister-in-law to my mother but they share a friendship that really takes the in-law out of the equation. Monty Ellis is beloved in my family and it’s a privilege to see her and say, “I have an Aunt.”

My Aunt Sunday is one of the sweetest women I know. I’ve never heard her raise her voice, though I’m sure one of her four daughters just might be able to say that they have once or twice. She has shown me that patience and love aren’t always easy to maintain firm grips on but when you turn around and look back at the journey you’ve made, you’ll be so glad for the determination you had to just hang on. She’s raised four girls that share a bond only sisters can understand. She married my mother’s brother, so she’s technically an Aunt by marriage but God brought her into our family and there she will always remain. I’m thankful that in Sunday Graham I can say, “I have an Aunt.”

These women in my life that I am blessed to call my Aunts have left permanent marks upon my life. They’ve been the source of wide-eyed wonder as a child, taught me and my sister what the laughter of women can really do for the soul, and have shown me how an awkward girl can grow into a graceful lady. Each one has given me a picture of the kind of Aunt I want to be. I’ve never taken the time to give them these words of how they’ve touched my soul, but I want them all to know that they have each played a part in making me the woman I am today. A woman I hope makes them proud to say, “I have a niece.”

Remember This

He walks in to the kitchen and asks for music. He wants to dance with mama in the kitchen. I turn the stove off and the radio on. His hands find mine as he tilts his head to the side and begins to move his feet. He laughs. And we dance. I say to myself, remember this.

She waddles in to the living room and takes the clothes out of the laundry basket, leaving little piles of clean clothes on the rug. I bend to clean up and she giggles, climbing into my lap. She wants to cuddle with mama on the couch. I leave the clothes on the rug to pick her up instead. And we cuddle. I beg myself to remember this.

He comes home from a long day of hard work and kisses his wife. I have been on his mind all day and he on mine. It feeds my soul something sweet that he seeks me out when he enters our home. We are finding our groove. Everyday the groove gets better. I want to always groove with this man. He looks at me with a love that no man has ever given me before. His tired body leans into mine. I give him my arms as a refuge as I will these arms to remember this.

She walks beside me through the halls of the nursing home. We enter the room that is now the home of the man that taught her life. His eyes register recognition with the love that only a father can give. I watch as my mother feeds him, embraces him, talks to him. Even when he can’t eat, can’t hold her back, can’t remember the stories she tells. She is there. She is his. The world has asked so much of her. Taken so much of her strength. And she has given it willingly. Again and again I see her give her strength away. And now I watch her as she cares for this man that needs her. And I tell my heart to remember this.

He lays in bed accepting her care. Breathing words slowly. Does he remember the strong man he once was? Does he remember his granddaughters playing with wooden blocks on his living room floor? Does he remember his life as we go about ours? I sit on his bed and take his hand. His great-grandaughter is on my lap blowing him kisses. She will never know the man I knew. He takes my hand and brings it to his lips, leaving the love of a kiss on the tips of my fingers. Dear God, let me remember this.

This life. This beautiful life. Remember this.

This post was written in response to Sarah Bessey’s post, “In which we are saved, right now {a synchroblog}“. These remember this moments are what save my life. From hurt. From chaos. From others. From myself. Remember this.

What is saving you?

Contemplations of a Babe

The contemplations
Of life are many.
We wonder
Who we are
Why we are
What we are.
I hope
Your contemplations lead you
To a place of surety.
Sure of who you are
Ellis Ann, mama’s girl.
Sure of why you are
Love. Because of love.
Sure of what you are
Beautiful, wise, caring. More than words can provide.
Your contemplations will be many.
Let your insecurities be few.
Contemplate the who, why, what but
Always come back to
You, because of love, my beautiful girl.

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