My Papa

A few weeks ago, my sweet Papa peacefully passed away. He was a wonderful man, and left a hole in our family. These past weeks have been tough, emotionally and physically, and I am glad that at least the "formal" part of the grieving is over. I am a Southern girl, from a Southern family, and people in Georgia do not play when it comes to funerals and "paying respects" when someone that they know dies. There was an overwhelming response to my Papa's death. My Grandma's house was overrun with well-meaning guests (coming to pay their respects) bearing gifts of fried chicken (my Uncle Derrell said it best, "A chicken doesn't have a chance in hell in the state of Georgia when someone dies!"), homemade dishes (potato salad, macaroni and cheese, butter beans, creamed corn...), and the most wonderful desserts that you can imagine (pumpkin pie, pecan pie, a sixteen layer chocolate cake, and a "honey bun cake"...yes...a cake made out of honey buns and heaven. It was the best thing that I have ever put in my mouth!). At the visitation at the funeral home, we were again surprised by the number of people who came to let us know how much my Papa meant to them, and the beautiful flowers that were sent. We didn't expect that kind of response, and couldn't be more grateful to these sweet souls who did their best to make this difficult time easier for my family.

Once I thought about it, we really shouldn't have been surprised. My Papa was a one-of-a-kind, thoughtful, strong, Godly man. He was a wonderful builder, but made "God's work" his career later in life. He was a "fire and brimstone" country preacher, but at the same time made it known that his God was a loving, kind, and generous God with whom he had a personal friendship. It was said at his funeral that he was opinionated, and if you didn't want to know what he thought, you shouldn't ask him. I think that was putting it mildly. Most of the time, you got what he thought whether you asked him or not! I remember when I was younger (probably around 12 or 13) and our family went on a beach trip. Papa always had heart problems, and the doctor had him on a strict walking regiment every day. He loved to walk on the beach, and would do so every morning and every afternoon of the trip. Sometimes, I would walk with him, and our discussions would inevitably turn to our faith and the Bible. While we agreed on the fundamentals, we did not agree on some of the finer points of our faith, and on this particular day were debating the role of women in the church. He was old school, very conservative, and very traditional. I was young, and very precocious (I know, that's so hard to imagine!). As a female, I had a very hard time agreeing with him that women shouldn't be ministers, deacons, and leaders in the church. (A belief that I still have!) As we debated, my temper flared, and I blurted out, "Well, I just have a really hard time believing that God didn't put a voice in a woman just because He also gave her a vagina!" He turned, looked at me, and said something like this, "No, God gave you a voice, you just have learn how to use it. Whether you like it or not, women are different than men, and when a woman is at her best, the softer she speaks, the more she is heard."

I don't know that I've ever told anyone that story, but it is near to my heart, and I reflect on it often. I still can't believe that my sweet, old-fashioned Papa got over the fact that his granddaughter looked him in the eye and said "vagina" and still managed to teach her one of the best lessons she's ever learned. I am a very opinionated, very talkative, very outspoken Southern girl, and sometimes have a hard time with the "labels" that are put on people for any reason. The "women" roles are especially hard for me to swallow. But, I can't deny the fact that women are created differently, and that our stregnth is in our softness. The lesson that my Papa very successfully taught me that day was that women and men aren't better or worse, just different. I could do everything that a man can do and try my best to be as good as a man (and probably somewhat succeed), or I could revel in the fact that I am a woman, and be phenomenal!

My Papa was many things, and he will be so very missed. I know that he's the reason that I pray the way that I do...I remember him saying, "Jenny, just talk to Him like He's sitting in that chair." I know that he's the reason behind my family's notorious quick wit and sense of humor...my Daddy said that Papa "laughed all over himself." He and my Grandma's love for each other was the best model I could ever have for how a loving, Godly marriage should be, and one that Dow and I aspire to. He was definitely the center of our family. He had a profound effect on the woman, the mother, the wife, the daughter, the friend, and the Christian that I am, and I am so grateful for the time that I was able to be loved by and taught by him.