Topic: What mama did
GO!
It was the middle of a Carolina summer and we lurched our Astro van into an old mill house driveway. We were loaded with a window unit air condition and enough groceries for a family of four. A couple much younger than the lines on their face would imply thanked my mama deep, from the heart. She shrugged their thanks off with a grin and an arm thrown around their neck for good measure. She always gave of herself, her whole self, breaking pieces off for those in need. Christ gave all. She gave much. Her life shined full.
Mama was a postal worker. A proud member of the USPS who delivered more than her fair share of Saturday mail in the rain and snow. She walked a route for years greeting folks at their downtown doors with bills and a smile to soften the blow. They eventually moved her inside behind a counter, but the giving always continued. After her death a woman wrote to the newspaper just to say how much she missed my mama. The phrase "going postal" exists for a reason and it isn't because most postal workers are so nice and hospitable to their customers. This woman would drive a little further just to see my mama, just to have my mama stamp her mail and ask about her family. It was enough to warrant a hand written letter to our town's newspaper editor. A letter that came to us weeks after her death and not a moment too soon to grieving hearts.
Mama did the hard stuff. She looked outside of herself with eyes roving for need. Eyes always looking for a place to open heart and insert Christ. Over the years I've had people I never knew realize that I'm Peggy's daughter and tell me about something she did for them. A book she slipped into their hand, a gift she gave, a reaching out of heart and soul that changed their outlook, changed their life. She gave gifts to them, but she gave a legacy to me.
STOP!
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