Week 10: Write about a woman who inspires you

First of all, HAPPY WOMEN’S HISTORY MONTH!

I have struggled with this blog post immensely. There are many women who inspire me, both women in my life and women who don’t know who I am. I was taught (by women) from a young age that we need to encourage one another and never be an obstacle to one another. I was also a teenager once and failed miserably to live up to this standard.

I’m the oldest of three sisters. People talk about how their astrological sign, Myers-Briggs, and/or enneagram (to name a few) perfectly define them. I, however, am defined by my role as the oldest daughter. My only goal in life has been to set a good example for my sisters, to be there for them, and to prevent them from making my same mistakes.

Lucky for me, I’ve had women in my family to reinforce what it takes to be a good person. My mom (Mama, as I call her; Cindy as most everyone else refers to her) was a working mom whom, from my memory, was somehow also always around despite how hard she worked. Sometimes, I worry that my mom has maybe made the three of us her entire world. I say “worry” because she and my dad are empty nesters, and now that all our drama is out of the house, whatever will they do? My mom is a charmer, and she would move heaven and earth for my sisters and me. 

But let’s go back another generation. Let me tell you about my grandmothers.

I made it to my 30s with all of my grandparents still living. My maternal grandmother, Sara Maynard, is now my only living grandparent, and at 98, she loves talking about her girls, specifically my mom and her three sisters. My family has no shortage of women. I told you I was lucky.

A little about my precious grandmother (I call her Grandmama). She attended Austin Peay University for (I think) one semester at a time when most women did not attend college. She worked at the Milan, TN arsenal during WWII, and fun fact, her boss was my husband’s grandfather. For years, my grandmother ran the Mustard Seed, a food pantry and thrift store serving the needs of her church and community. She’s basically an angel-human.

I’ve watched her show her family and community what love looks like through her service to others my entire life. I’ve seen her prepare and bring food to anyone and everyone. [What a cook, by the way! I have collected many of her recipe clippings, though we all know she never used recipes, just to try and be a chef like her one day.] She can socialize with a wall. Not just talk to the wall, but she could make that wall feel special. My mom has this quality as well, and when I need to perk up and be the encouraging and upbeat force in the room, I call it “channeling my inner Cindy.”

I want to also share a bit about my other grandmother, Mildred (I call her Grandma). She lived to be 98 years old. The last time I saw her, she was in a lot of pain and couldn’t verbalize her feelings, but only two days before, I saw her on a good day. I treasure every second I spent with her that day. We sat as we often did—looking out the window in her room, watching the birds, and talking about food/cooking. She hadn’t been able to cook for a few years, but she loved giving me advice.

My grandma liked to get her hands dirty, was a constant learner, and was so stubborn. In her 90s, I would stop by to visit and find her scrubbing the floor, her cane in another room entirely. You have never seen a glass cooktop as clean as hers. I’d bet anything that she polished it daily.

When I was a kid, she often took care of me. I remember having strep throat once and sipping Spirit (painfully) from a mug that played the Hallelujah Chorus every time I tilted the cup. It drove her crazy, as did the show Doug, and my antics with my sisters. But I know she loved every minute of having us around. As I got older, we bonded over my cooking adventures. She taught me how to make caramel frosting (if you know, you know) and tea cakes. She also loved birds. I can’t see a hummingbird without instantly thinking about her.

My grandma did not get to attend college, but I like to imagine what she could have done had that been an option for her. She was the smartest person I’ve ever known. I’m convinced that she had a photographic memory. In fact, the hardest part about watching her age was knowing how well her mind was functioning as her body failed her.

At her funeral, I learned that she would read my dad and his siblings’ textbooks so that she could keep up with what they were learning in school. I should also mention that she went on to raise an architect, a teacher, a medical researcher, and two scientists. I also learned that a tree fell in their yard one time, and she took it upon herself to chop (or saw or chainsaw… I have no idea) the tree and remove it from the yard. Like I said, she was stubborn. I like to think I inherited some of her stubbornness, but I wish I had more of her grit.

Women make the world go ‘round, and you cannot tell me otherwise. I’ve heard men (um, specifically male preachers) refer to women as “nurturing” and “tender.” Unfortunately, these words don’t describe me. I’d prefer to be a Sara and Mildred combo—committed and stubborn. We are more than the roles society defines for us. Women and men do not and should not fit preset personality molds. It’s silly and lazy to believe otherwise.

Ladies, we can do and be anything we want. Let’s be stubborn!