Love Lifted Me

Aunt Tura was married to my grandfather’s oldest brother who died years before I was ever born. They lived in Glenwood, Alabama. It is a small place. The 2010 census said that the population of Glenwood is 187. I don’t think it has changed much since I used to visit there. Aunt Tura lived in a big white house with a big porch. I loved that house and I loved visiting Aunt Tura.  One of my favorite things about that house was that the bedroom I stayed in had a feather bed. I loved sinking into that bed every night.  There was nothing more I could want.  She told me one time that her mother and I had the same name, so I decided that made me pretty special and most likely caused her to like me even more than she ordinarily would have.

My Aunt Tura was a lot of fun and she liked children. My brother and I spent Labor Day weekend with her one time and she made me a birthday cake that was beautiful. She knew how to make roses out of frosting that looked just like the ones from the bakery – only bigger and better and in the colors I wanted. She covered my cake with roses.  She let me try to make those roses, too. Mine were just different sized globs of frosting. She also took us behind her house to pick whatever scuppernongs were still there, let us eat them while we picked them, and then let us help make jelly with the rest. I was a terrible jelly maker – made more of a mess than jelly – but Aunt Tura didn’t seem to mind. She just helped us clean up and sent us home with all the jelly that we/she made.

And that same weekend, she made me some Barbie clothes. She took Barbie, measured her, and made a pattern so Barbie could have some new skirts and blouses. It was an absolute mystery to me.  I never knew how she did it, but those clothes fit Barbie perfectly. She took all the pieces she had cut out and we went to visit one of her friends. I couldn’t imagine all those little pieces ever being anything but a jumbled mess. She sat on the porch, talked to her friend while I listened to every word, and sewed those clothes. I remember her friend saying, “Tura, I don’t see how you do that. I’d rather make a great big dress than something that small!” I don’t know why I thought that was so funny when she said it, but I did.

The reason Aunt Tura was so good at all those things was because of her job. Or maybe that's why she was so good at her job.  She worked at a children’s home. We once visited her there and she took us on a tour. The children were all in school while we were there, but I will never forget going into the rooms where they stayed. The rooms were full of single beds lined up against both sides of the wall. I picked up a doll from the toy box and saw that it had a label on its back. The label had the name of the children’s home on it. I asked Aunt Tura about it and she told me that the children didn’t have their own toys. The toys belonged to the home and the children just played with them. I thought it was awful that the children didn’t have toys. I still do. Aunt Tura loved those children. She made them birthday cakes, made them jelly, and sewed for them. She did all kinds of things to make their lives better, hoping that they would either return home or be adopted. Aunt Tura knew every one of those children. She loved them so much that I was a little bit jealous, but all I had to do was think about that doll with the sticker on its back and I was just fine.

There are times when I don’t feel very special. Kind of like I have plenty of things, but they all have labels that say they belong to someone else. Usually, it doesn’t take long for me to remember that I’m not really in charge and everything I have is a gift from God. And I am the one who should have a label to remind me that I belong to God. He loves you and me even more than Aunt Tura loved those children. He knows we’re going to make a mess and He will help us clean it up if we ask Him. The times when I feel quite hopeless, He steps in and reminds me that He cares more than I can imagine.

One of my favorite songs as a child was Love Lifted Me. I would sit in the porch swing and sing it with gusto.  It still is one of my favorite songs, actually. Aunt Tura used to sing it with me. When nothing else could help, love lifted me. Still does.

May the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace in believing, so that by the power of the Holy Spirit you may abound in hope.  Romans 15:13