Lessons from The Red Front Porch Swing

Lesson Three: Live Gratefully!

My Great Aunt Ella Woodyard never had much in terms of material things.  After she graduated from a Catholic convent school in Mobile, she began working as a nanny for the children of a couple of prominent families; years later, she would work as a companion for her employers themselves as their own youth began to fade and their health began to decline.  She didn’t make much money, but the families for whom she worked had always been generous.  When she finally decided that it was time for her to slow down a bit, they paid her a “pension” (pretty much unheard of at that time) and frequently delivered gently-used hand-me-downs that kept her home nicely furnished.  By then, too, two of her grown-up former charges, one, a physician, and another, a dentist, always saw to it that she was cared for in their respective offices free of charge – and without the need for an appointment.  Aunt Ella’s family members also contributed to her existence, making certain that she always had what she needed.

While Aunt Ella loved to dress beautifully, have a welcoming home, enjoy the big comfortable arm chair from which she might read or watch TV, and offer hospitality to others, she understood the concept of enough:  A few simple-but-stylish dresses, her ever-present pumps and matching handbags (in black, navy and summer white) and her long strand of faux pearls insured that she always looked lovely.  Her small grocery budget always seemed to provide meals for herself and those with whom she needed to share.  There was always a cold Coca Cola in her refrigerator, and Oreo cookies in her cookie jar.  The red front porch swings were kept painted and in good repair, just waiting for company, and Aunt Ella welcomed her guests there as if she were welcoming them to a palace.  She didn’t need or want more than she could use.

It wasn’t as if Aunt Ella had been immune from adversity.  She had known illness, suffering from chronic kidney problems during much of her life.  She lived without many things – including air conditioning (in Mobile, Alabama!) – that others took for granted.  Years before her own death, at age 100, she had buried all eight of her sisters and brothers – her beloved sister, Jenny, my grandmother, at an early age – and many of her nieces and nephews.  Friends, neighbors, ministers from her church – they had all gone before her.  Her humble home had been severely damaged in two hurricanes, forcing her to live in a single tiny room for months while repairs were being made. 

Yet her disposition was always sunny.  She was always content.

Aunt Ella lived with a firm belief that God would provide.  And for the entirety of her 100-year life, God provided.  In abundance.  She always had enough.  If an extraordinary repair job was needed at her home, a generous repairman would miraculously slash the bill after she served up a lunchtime plate of pork chops, blackeyed peas and cornbread – with a generous dose of Scripture and prayer – on that red front porch swing.  If she’d shared the last of the food in her refrigerator with a sick neighbor, one of her church members or one of her many nieces and nephews would somehow – without having talked to her – show up, “bringing a plate” from their own kitchens.  When her purse was snatched – with her small monthly pension inside – by a teen robber as she walked to the nearby grocery store one afternoon, the outpouring of support from family, friends and neighbors was overwhelming. Her lost money was replaced ten-fold.  The physician whom she’d nannied cancelled his remaining appointments and raced from his office to check on her.  The manager at the grocery store came to her house himself that afternoon after hearing the news, with two bags of what he remembered to be her “staples” – and an offer to go back and get anything that he had forgotten.  A neighbor brought her a beautiful new handbag to replace the stolen one.  A couple of weeks later, from the red front porch swing, Aunt Ella reflected that “I know that [God] can do all things, and that no purpose of [God’s] can be thwarted.” [Job 42:2]  That was why she didn’t worry.  That was why she could live gratefully.  That was why she could share selflessly. 

And so, I received Lesson Three from The Red Front Porch Swing: Live gratefully, with a thankful heart, appreciating all that we have, knowing that God will provide, knowing that we have (more than) enough, sharing without hesitation.  It’s a big lesson, one that I’m still working at, all these many years later.  But I couldn’t have had a better teacher.  Aunt Ella set such a beautiful example. 

Thank you, Aunt Ella, for the Lessons from The Red Front Porch Swing.  Thank you for teaching me to live lovingly, joyfully, gratefully.  I hope that I have honored your memory all these years in all that I have done.  I will always love you.