If Marjorie NeSmith was
anything, my mother was an optimist.
Even when her chin was quivering, she depended on her rock-solid faith
to lift her spirits. If there was a
silver lining in a looming black cloud, unsinkable Margie could find it.
As
she barely clung to life during 2014’s Christmas season, she squeezed my hand
and said, “I can’t lose. If God lets me live, I’ll be here to enjoy my
family and friends on earth. If He takes
me to heaven, I’ll be with all my family and friends there. So, be at peace, son. I can’t lose.” On New Year’s Eve, my chin quivered while
giving her eulogy. But a day doesn’t
pass that I don’t hear her voice, filled with words of encouragement.
She
had a scripture or notable quotation for every occasion. And beneath her always-perfectly-coiffed hair
was a brain full of earthy sayings, many I’m sure passed on from her saintly
grandmother, Susie McNeal. Born in the
1800s and maybe 5 feet tall, Ma was a pillar of strength within her family as
they eked out a hardscrabble existence on a mule-plowed farm in Baker County.
Throughout
my childhood, I heard my parents say, “This Christmas, let’s give Ma running
water and an inside bathroom.” And then, year after year, Ma would pat her
Bible and say, over the squeak of her rocking chair, “Thank you, but as long as
the Lord lets me pump the handle, I am happy to get my water from the
well.” Eventually, she agreed to a
spigot on the back porch, but the privy remained out back behind the fig tree.
Today,
Ma’s petite rocking chair is among my most prized heirlooms. Sunday afternoon, after scrambling to prepare
for Hurricane Irma’s arrival, I looked for a quiet spot to prepare my
mind. The squeak, squeak of that woven-cane-bottom-and-back
chair helped me to find peace. The more
I rocked, the more I smiled. I could
hear my mother passing along the advice of my great-grandmother: “God keeps us in a swivet to keep us
humble.”
What’s
a swivet?
A
swivet is “a condition of irritation, exasperation, annoyance.”
If
this hurricane season isn’t a swivet, I don’t know what is. No matter how irritated, exasperated or
annoyed we become, there are some things out of our control. Harvey, Irma and other natural disasters have
reminded us of that—again. Consider the humbling
devastation and havoc of recent weeks.
So what’s the silver lining in all this?
Ma
would say, “The worst of situations brings
out the best in people.” And that’s
exactly what we are witnessing. While wind and water punish us, neighbors are
clutching the hands of neighbors, pulling them to safety. Strangers are rescuing strangers. Hearts and wallets are opened wide. Those floods of kindness help to wash away
the ugliness of the moment.
And
as I rocked, over the squeak, I could hear Mother saying, “The best way to ease
the pain of your miseries is to get busy helping others with their
problems. Pretty soon, your woes seem
insignificant.”
Amen.
Amen.
dnesmith@cninewspapers.com
