In memory............

The following was read at my dear Aunt Irene's funeral. Her faith became sight 3 years ago today. I think of her all of the time, and still miss her. Sometimes time is not the healer that people say it will be for I miss Aunt Irene just as much today as I did three years ago when she left us and gazed into Jesus' face for the first time. Glory! This probably will not mean much to most of you who read this blog, but I know my family visits my site, too. I hope they too are remembering a great lady on this day!

My Friends, Raggedy Ann, and a Slave Quilt, Too

My husband, Brookie, tells me all the time that I am so spoiled and require lots of attention. What he does not and will not understand is that it is not entirely my fault that I have these devious traits. My family is partially responsible for my need to get everything I please. I like to think that my Aunt Irene started all of this, along with my parents, of course. When I was a child, I knew that pretty much whatever I could dream up my Aunt Irene would find a way to get me what I wanted. Looking back, I do not know if I was truly selfish or just loved the idea that someone loved me so much that they would bring me special presents. The first present I remember getting was what Aunt Irene and I liked to call, “my friends”. I know you are thinking did she really bring her friends? No, to a child a friend can just about be anything. Well, my so-called friends were the cheddar cheese puff balls that she would bring me every time she came for a visit from Texas. I guess they did not sell cheddar cheese puff balls in Mississippi. You know, we do have a reputation for being the last in everything. Maybe we were the last to sell cheese puff balls. Anyway, it made me so happy. I remember sitting at Nanny Bell’s waiting for Aunt Irene and Uncle George to arrive because I knew those cheese balls were coming. In the door she would come, smiling, saying, “Jeneree, I brought you a surprise; I brought you some of “your friends”.
In elementary school, we had a Christmas program one year and I was chosen to be Raggedy Ann. Of course, mama knew who to ask to make this costume. She asked Aunt Irene to make it. I remember that it was not very hard to make the dress and apron. But, the wig, made of red yarn would take some time. Not only did I star as Raggedy Ann, singing the Chipmunks, “Christmas, Christmas Time is Here”, I wore my costume in one of the few Christmas parades held in Belzoni. Now, every Christmas when I hear those Chipmunks I think about Aunt Irene lovingly sewing me that Raggedy Ann costume. Also, she made my brother an E.T. costume, that everyone was sorely jealous of. He got his on chance to ride his three-wheeler, looking like a spaceship, in the Christmas parade and take a picture with the Humphreys Academy cheerleaders. That’s a big deal to a young boy.
Everyone who really knew my Aunt Irene knows that she could make anything, as can my Aunt JoAnn, and Aunt Jacqueline. Somehow I missed that Savell trait. Anyway, during junior high I was on this teddy bear kick. I decided I would collect teddy bears. Where does Aunt Irene come in? Well, I asked her to make me a Teddy Bear quilt. And guess what, she did!! I still use it on Savell’s bed.
Aunt Irene loved to travel, especially to Mississippi. The year I would graduate high school I wrote her a letter asking her what she thought about going to Washington D. C. I really wanted to go because of its many historical museums. Also, I told her that I thought that my daddy would like to go to the Vietnam Veterans Memorial. Why did I ask her? Because I knew she was the key to getting what I wanted. She had never failed me before and I knew that she loved letters. You know the rest of the story. We went to Washington D.C., had a great time, and made many great memories. It was during this trip that she got mad at me for the first time because I decided one night that I was ready to go home. We left in the middle of the night and I never lived down the fact that she didn’t get to go to Mount Vernon. Around the time we were planning our trip, I cut a picture of a quilt out of a magazine that I wanted Aunt Irene to make me. Each block on this quilt told a story out of the Bible. That’s really all I knew about it. I gave her that picture. She didn’t look too enthusiastic. She said, “This one looks hard”. Well, she kept reading the clipping. All of a sudden she said, “Do you realize this youngin’ is trying to get me to make a quilt that a slave sewed in the 1800s?” I did not know that fact. Anyway, I accepted that she could not make this one. The end of this story is that when we got home from Washington D.C. she pulled a reproduction of that slave quilt out of a bag from the Smithsonian Gift Shop and handed it to me. I said, “Where did you get this?” She said, “In the museum shop. This is for your graduation”. Once again, she came through. Isn’t it amazing?
As I got older, I began to see my Aunt Irene through the eyes of an adult rather than a child. What I mean is I saw the gifts that are much deeper, which are better than anything money could buy. First of all, she gave us all the gift of true, adoring love. She loved each family member with all her heart and soul. She not only bestowed gifts on Nanny Bell, many of her brothers, sisters, nieces, and nephews, but also she was interceding for us through prayer all the time. When we hurt, she hurt. Many times I witnessed first hand how she worried about her family when they were sick and in need. All she ever really expected in return was a simple thank you or a warm visit with them.
Secondly, my Aunt Irene was a Godly woman who had strong morals and believed in manners. When I did not write a thank you note once, I heard about it. Her morals were a far cry from what is taken as normal behavior during this broken world we live in.
When she suffered a loss too big for her to grasp, I heard her ask Dr. Billy McKay, “What can I do, I just do not know what to do?” She wanted so badly to do something to help each and every one of us when we were hurting. I hope you know this, for I do.