I believe that in proper form (even though I'm a day late) I give a shout to one of the greatest mothers in history, the late Ellen P. Jones, my paternal grandmother. In addition to that I would like to admonish and bring attention to a type of motherhood that doesn't get mentioned much but is key in the establishment of African American culture.
Grandma was born a couple generations away from slavery in Drewyville, VA (Southhampton County) in October of 1921. As a matter of fact, she maintained that our family is related to Virginia abolitionist Nat Turner, which is important because the determination and spiritual obedience that Turner displayed as a slave and freedom fighter was evident in Grandma's life. I won't give you guys a history lesson on her, but shortly after leaving the country and moving to Richmond she married my grandfather, the late Paul Jones. Their first home was in Church Hill and then they later moved to Highland Park when my dad was in his junior year at Armstrong High School. During this time, Highland Park was a more affluent neighborhood than it is now after the cocaine epidemic of the mid-1980s ripped it apart. So this move was a considerable upgrade with regards to overall lifestyle. My dad has mentioned that he didn't like the move very much because it geographically separated him from most of his friends, but later on we all would see the move was advantageous for several members of our family.
My paternal grandfather died not too long after my parents married, and during the long time my grandma was a widow, miraculous things would happen to and in that home. That house served as what I would call the 'healing house' for many members of our family and the community, including me. More specifically, I can remember when I was around 9 or 10 that a student at Union Theological Seminary, aspiring to become a licensed minister, had visited Sharon Baptist Church where Grandma was a member. Because of his lack of money, housing, and his need to pursue his goal my grandmother allowed him to stay at her home rent free. This gentleman was a part of our lives for about 2 - 3 years as he worked and studied, which was something I thought to be quite strange. But he wasn't the only one. Several cousins and aunts stayed with "Aunt Ellen" when their situations became a little difficult to bear. In the true spirit of Matthew 25:35, Grandma gave us shelter, food, and Christian nourishment for us to strengthen our faith and learn to walk in it. She took us in with our many issues and never condemned us for what we were going through; she just helped. As for me, my Grandma's health began to deteriorate right around the time when I was still searching to be someone. I had become accustomed to a life of substance abuse and hate; a life I was not raised in and it was beginning to swallow me. Because I was respectable enough to not bring any of the foolishness I was involved in to my parents house, and because of the stench of my foulness was beginning to reach my mother's senses, I started planning to move. My father suggested that I live with Grandma to serve two purposes: to get my self on my [financial] feet and to care for my grandmother in her failing health. Initially, I rejected this idea because I really still wanted to do what I wanted to do and I knew this was not acceptable in her house. But eventually I consented. As the Lord would have it, being in the presence of my grandmother daily influenced me to make significant changes that led to me being gainfully employed and working on several business ventures. After 3 years of staying with Grandma I was blessed with the opportunity to purchase my first home. With her encouragement, I walked into that opportunity and bought a house only 6 blocks away from her. As time went on her health got to the point where she could not live alone. She spent her last days at my parents house in my old room, sleeping in my old bed. I was the last individual that my grandmother took in and 'healed'.
Even today, the hard work that my grandparents put to keep that house is still reaping benefits for my family; as my cousin is now living there, rent free (just paying utilities). As keeping with what the house symbolizes my cousin receives the same blessings that many of her predecessors did. This house is now somewhat of a landmark in HP, not because it is extravagant or large, because it isn't. As a matter of fact, it is one of the smaller homes in Highland Park. But the love that is inside that house that was given through my grandmother cannot be contained, but it has saturated men and women who are family and who are not. Sometime after Grandma's funeral in 2009, I rejoiced in my spirit because I could see how the Lord had planned something in my grandmother's life to serve as a land of promise for years and years, and I was planned to receive this as well! This points to what needs to be brought to light. I am well aware of the mothers that come from sharecropping as Grandma did; who with faith and hard work have made homes for their families that have existed years after they have passed away. These homes did not see the fate of burnings, or break-ins, or foreclosure-because the Grace of the Lord was with them and everything they touched. These women have survived through real (physical) discrimination and violent racism. These women lived under the threat of terrorism that was perpetuated by the Virginia and U.S. governments. These women supported families with the resources they had, even if the people weren't blood. And these are the women that make black America.
We like to think that because we aren't getting water hoses turned on us that these threats don't exist anymore. The fact however is that many still do, while others have simply changed their methods of existence. And because of this I have a charge to you, dear reader. I challenge you today to uplift that young woman from Hillside, or Gilpin, or Essex Village, or any hood in the States who is working to buy that house so her family can live without the looming presence of pain. I encourage you to reach out to that college student who comes from a hellish environment and inquire on her needs to reach her goals, and help her. I ask that you pull that high school girl aside and look her in her eye and tell her she is precious in the eyes of the All Powerful God AND to our society. Do this with all of your resources, even if all you have to give is just a kind word. Keep in mind that the possibility that these women may become (or already are) mothers is high. And we know that without the strong and faithful mother, the whole village suffers. We can all use a little bit less suffering!
I write this in thought of my late paternal grandmother; as well as the continued blessed and fruitful lives of my maternal grandmother, my mother, my aunts, and all the mothers worldwide who continue to demonstrate true love.
Peace
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