Journey of a Lifetime -- Installment 3

In order to speak to you through the hues, shades and colors of his palette, an artist must layer color upon color to tell the whole story.  In that same way, I must share the layers of my relationship with my mother so that you can fully understand the miraculous nature of our last sojourn.  For me, the final layer held the best of times spent in my mother's presence.  So, to begin layering, I’ll start at the beginning with my mother’s story.

She was the middle of five children born in May of 1912 in Nashville, TN.  Her father was twice her mother’s age, not uncommon in those years, and the little red-headed, green-eyed baby girl had problems from very early childhood.  With poor eyesight and hearing, life would begin with those struggles already decided for her.

Nelle Mae Roper was named for a good friend of her mother’s, and the friend doted on this child long distance while living in St. Louis.  She sent cards, gifts, and made sure that Nelle was registered on the cradle roll of her church in St. Louis.  But despite all these efforts on the part of such a good friend, life wasn’t dealing a fair hand to this little family or this little girl.

Two other children followed, and when Nelle was 6 her father died suddenly leaving her mother with five children and no means of income.  In the early 1900s women weren’t as visible in the workplace and finding work wasn’t easy.  The family went on welfare and depended on the Big Brothers, a local Nashville assistance group, for food at the holidays.  The two older children were in school, and eventually finished and went to work.

However, graduation would not be in Nelle's future.  She just barely made it through the eighth grade, when her mother chose to take her out of school to stay home and care for the two smaller children, a girl and a boy.  Nelle's mother found a job as an elevator operator in a local bank building, and desperately needed the income this job would provide.  Nelle didn't have the first clue as to how to care for these children much less how to discipline them.

As young children will do, the two would become unruly, running through the house, not staying indoors, and making messes Nelle had to clean up.  Stories have been shared that in an attempt to discipline Nelle would grab handy kitchen utensils, most often large knives, and chase the younger two threatening them if they didn't behave.  Poor Nelle!  If only someone would help her see what her role really was supposed to be.  After all, she was only 11.

Time went on and Nelle was offered the opportunity, without a high school diploma, to attend business school.  By now, the younger children were in school and this would work out for all concerned.  Nelle's eyesight and hearing, however, made learning difficult for her, especially with her lack of schooling thrown into the mix.  Luckily, from time to time, she was hired by an attorney in her mother's office building, but these jobs never lasted.  Obviously, her skills were not well-honed and her ability to cope not well suited either.  Why didn't someone see?  Why didn't someone give her advice?

(Copyright 2011 - Sherrey Meyer)

Those Eyes, That Hair!

Mom was a pretty woman in many ways -- gorgeous wavy auburn hair which lightened as she grew older, beautiful green eyes, and petite for most of her life.  I'm nothing like her having taken after my dad's side of the family.  However, within that beauty was another persona that came to life at the strangest of times.

Here she is walking down Church Street in Nashville, TN, not long after I was born, likely spring 1946.  She is on the right carrying me, and with her is her sister.  I'm told a street photographer made this picture and didn't charge them anything for it!  The expression you see on mom's face is typical -- despite her beautiful features she didn't seem to always find a way to smile.

I mentioned earlier about her beautiful green eyes.  As soon as I was able to relate her eyes to behavior, I knew the signals.  If she was happy, those beautiful eyes sparkled like emeralds.  If she was angry, flashes of fire could be seen in the midst of the green.  That's when I learned to back away quickly and to run where I couldn't hear or see her.  When those eyes flashed, it meant something had happened that didn't please her and no manner of explaining or trying to make it up would work.  As a child, I often didn't know what triggered this sudden change in behavior.

This morning, preparing for church, I was brushing my hair and was reminded of the numerous times she would lay across the bed and hang her long auburn hair down for me to brush.  These are some of my most cherished moments with her because usually the entire experience ended without incident.  I came away feeling that I had done my best for once, that she loved me in that moment, and I was left with a warm and fuzzy glow.  That doesn't mean it lasted the rest of the day or the week, but in that moment I felt the woman with the beautiful eyes and the lovely hair truly loved me. 

We should remember that our actions and our words toward others truly have a deep and often scarring impact.  Internal scars are never seen, but they are there and they are painful.  My memories like this one keep those scars from surfacing and bringing pain.  I always try not to hurt others with words or actions because I know the pain that results and the longlasting impact.

A person might have to suffer even when it is unfair, but if he thinks of God and can stand the pain, God is pleased.  1 Peter 2:19 (NCV)