Joys That Await Me

I had about a 2.5-mile walk home from school when I was eight years old. I did not mind the walk, as there were many other children who walked, too. Usually, we found one of our buddies to walk home with and played, hopped and skipped most of the way. But Tuesdays were special days. Why? That was Momma's off day. I knew that when I got home, Momma's love would be waiting for me and warm food to boot. Plop, plop, plop, I just kept putting one foot in front of the other because I knew what joy awaited me when I got home. My Momma's love awaited me...

When I got home, I walked through the door, and I could smell what smelled like neck bones and potatoes…and I smelled something else. It smelled like cake! Had Momma baked a cake? I walked through the corridor of the front room, the middle room, the hall, the dining room, and at last to the kitchen. Yes! There sat a cake on the table. I went out the back door looking for my mother and found her talking with my aunt who lived upstairs. I walked up to Momma and took from her the clothes she had just taken from the line.

 

By the time I heard the back-door slam, I had changed into my play clothes and had hung up my school clothes. Momma told me to wash my hands and come to the table to eat. I kept up incessant chatter while I washed my hands with the Octagon soap, until Momma said, “You pay attention to what you are doing so you get your hands clean. You can tell me about school after you get your plate and sit down at the table.”

 

“Yes, ma’am,” I said in a subdued voice.

 

When I got my food and sat back down at the table, Momma said, “Okay, so tell me what has you so excited that you could hardly get in the door before you told me?”
I said, “In reading group today, our teacher read us a new story. It was called ‘Jack and the Beanstalk.’”

“Okay, tell Momma the story.”

I launched into the story using my best storytelling voice, just as I had heard Momma do many times. When I finished the story, with Jack getting an ax and chopping the beanstalk down, Momma was giggling, and her eyes shone with motherly love and pride.

She patted me on the back and got up to cut the cake. “I don’t suppose you are too excited to eat a bit of cake, are you?”

(Continued on Thursday)

The story above is a true story excerpt from the book, Chopping My Row, p. 160.

The gift that was my mother

I am proud to share with you

As we make our way to the other side -

A place that with joy we are looking forward to.

If your mother is still gracing this time side of life, give her a phone call or a visit because one day the phone calls and visits will be memories that will sustain you.

If your mother has already crossed to the other side, then do something in her memory to help your fellowman as you walk this life to reach her side.

Doing What I Can, While I Can Because I Serve My God with Pride,

Alma L. Grateful Carr-Jones

Oh, what joys await us when we get to the other side! We will have the joys of reunion, but the greatest joy will be meeting my Lord and being able to say, "Thank You, Sir!"