The last few weeks here in North Texas have been heavy. The loss of multiple children, the loss of a dear old friend… and grief has a way of circling back on itself. Those losses have had me revisiting the loss of Rachel and the precious memories that still live so close to the surface. Of all of them, this one keeps sticking out.
This memory floated back to me out of nowhere today while Chris and I were talking, and it made me laugh all over again.
Rachel and I were in the grocery store checkout line years ago. She was sitting in the cart seat right next to my purse and started digging through it like she was on a treasure hunt. Now my momma raised me with one firm rule… you do not dig in another lady’s purse. To this day if you ask me to grab something out of yours, I’m bringing the whole purse to you like a sacred offering.
So I very calmly told Rachel, “Don’t dig in my purse. You don’t dig in other ladies’ purses.” Without missing a beat she looked at me and said, “You not a wady. You my momma.”
The sweet older woman behind us in line absolutely lost it. I’m pretty sure she almost wet her pants laughing and managed to say “Good job momma” between breaths. I just stood there trying not to laugh, slid my purse out of reach, and let the moment soak in. Then slid my purse out of reach of those tiny hands and accepted that apparently motherhood outranks lady status.
Grief is strange like that. It brings tears, but it also hands you these tiny gifts of laughter when you least expect it. And I’m thankful for the memories that still find their way back to me.
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