During my childhood, I spent many a summer and spring break in Alabama. The majority of my time was spent over my Aunt Mary’s. Aunt Mary’s house meant rotel dip and church. Vocation bible school, and Sunday School. It also meant entertainment. While my Aunt and Uncle have children my age, Mary Virginia was THE HEADLINER. She is all FIRE. My own personal dna-matching Supernova. (She knows I love Jesus and cuss words so if she ever reads this she will know there is no better way to explain it: SHE. DOES. NOT. TAKE. SHIT. FROM. ANYBODY.) She has aged gracefully, so I doubt that she still throws hands, but I know for a fact that mouth still works. If there was a picture of someone who doesn’t suffer fools gladly, it is her. Through child eyes, for the life of me I couldn’t understand how Uncle Woody stayed married to her. *laughs*
As they have just celebrated their 47th wedding anniversary, AND I am married to a man who has to deal with me(also all FIRE) and my shenanigans 24/7, I fully understand as an adult. *belly laughs*
Uncle Woody is proof to me that I was severely short changed in the father department. He was The Opening Act, the bonus to my visits. The ultimate girl dad, Unc is kindhearted, and always has a light up the room smile for you. He is sturdy and firm, but gentle. I guess with four girls(five if you include the boss), not only is a long fuse required, but you have to have a dash of softness to you. He is the only man I can think of that I have never heard him raise his voice in anger. Coming from my house where my father was combative and abusive, seeing a man be easy going and mild was always a welcomed change of pace. Between Mary and Woodrow’s very distinct energies, I loved to be around them.
Their daughter Wendy is one of my closest confidants. My year younger cousin and I almost daily talk about any and every topic, and sometimes we touch on memories growing up. Often I tell her things that she did not know about my relationships within our family, specifically her parents. I recently shared a story with her about how her mother was a constant in my teenage years, when her sister, my mother had lost her way. After I told my story, I cried. Not in sorrow, but in gratefulness. Auntie did what she could, and there simply aren’t enough words in existence to convey how thankful I am. Our talks serve as a reminder perspectives will be different as we are experiencing life thru our own eyes. For all of Aunt Mary’s sass, she is and always has been equally sweet and nurturing. Uncle Woody was just as supportive, especially at a time in my life when I was spiraling. I remember telling Wendy after that convo I should write a blog about how I was born in Indiana, but built by Bama. I am a lot like my Aunt Mary: If I have to throw hands I will, but in the meantime, my mouth still works. *laughs* I am also a lot like my Uncle Woody: it cost $0.00 to be kind. I am forever altered by their love for each other, their love for God, and their unconditional love for me.
As my Aunt and Uncle have been to me and my life, I pray to be a light to someone when they feel all others have gone out.
Selah.