Friday the 13th is a day some people think of Freddie Kruger style horror flicks. For me, it is a time to remember my Great Grandmother, Claudia Dell Upton, a character plucked from the lush Ozarks.
She was full of spunk and plenty of grit. One time she recounted when she had baked a pie for dessert and the crust hadn’t turned out like it usually did. When my Great Grandfather sat down to eat dinner, he looked at the apple fiasco and asked, “What is that supposed to be?”
My Grandma Upton snatched the pie from the table, opened the screen door and tossed it, Frisbee style, into the back yard, replying, “Your dessert.”
But, as spunky as she was, my Grandma Upton was also the epitome of resourcefulness and hospitality.
She always went to church and was active in the Ladies Aid and Quilting Circle. But, every Friday the 13th she also made sure she had a healthy helping of black-eyed peas.
“Are you superstitious?” I remember asking her in regard to the silly ritual.
“No,” she replied in her simple drawl. “But, things have happened on Friday the 13th that are tragic, so I figure it can’t hurt none.”
Hearing her tell stories of losing a child and other events made me see her in a different light. She wasn’t just the Grandmother who let us drink coffee with cream and sugar when we were youngsters, she had lived through some of life’s deepest sorrows.
I know we need to trust the Lord in all things. My Grandmother knew that as well. Still, the memories of loss can cause us to proceed with caution.It wasn’t about the peas, it was about learning to cope and move on.
I am sure there are dates that stick out in your mind and are harder to face than others. I know there are for me.
Leaning on the Lord is sometimes easier said than done. It is something that we need to remind ourselves of daily, unlike serving up black-eyes peas, which only happened every Friday the 13th.