Juanita Allgood was her name and truth be known, we’re not actually related. We just decided to unofficially adopt each other because that’s what you do when you enjoy someone and need an excuse to visit more often.

She and my Memaw were best friends and they were hilarious together. I witnessed quite a few of their shenanigans over the years, and I enjoyed being a third wheel on many of their outings.

As for the backstory on why I was a third wheel at so many outings, it’s because my grandparents adopted me as a teenager and within a year of being adopted my Papaw passed away. It was in that season that we three took up the habit of going out to eat after church every Sunday. Memaw and Granny would sit up front talking about different things while we made the 30 minute trek over to Tom’s Steakhouse in Paris. On the way there I would chime in to visit, but by the time we had eaten and loaded up for the return drive, I would inevitably fall asleep in the back of the car.

She was a mother.
She only had one child – a boy – but I figure he was so awesome that she could justify stopping with that one. He was a handsome fellow: strong and capable and carried more gifts than should be legal. Have you ever met someone like that? Sometimes when you see all the talents God managed to fit into one body you feel almost certain someone got overlooked in the process.

He became a faithful pastor,
accomplished musician,
soulful singer,
hard-working businessman,
husband to a beautiful soft hearted woman,
and soon Granny was gifted with five beautiful grandchildren. Over the years and the distance between Tennessee and Alaska I’ve lost count of all the beautiful great grandchildren she was blessed to see. There are many, and I just know she was tickled pink to see them all.

She was a teacher.
She’s the one who taught me that you can learn something from everyone, even if it’s what not to do. She taught my Sunday school class and even though she was older and wiser than everyone there, she was gentle and kind and marveled at what we had to say. I remember her most frequent response seemed to be “I’ve never thought of that before!” She made each of us feel special.

She was an artist.
Her medium of choice was oils and her downstairs wall was covered with several of her beautiful pieces. One time I was visiting and noticed a canvas set up in the corner of her studio. There were several roses strewn across the white background and each of them were numbered. I thought it was a bit odd so I looked over and asked “Granny, how come you have so many roses on here?”

She then explained: “Well, I want to learn how to paint roses so I made a goal to paint one hundred of them. I number each one as I finish, because I figure by the time I paint one hundred, I’ll be better at them!”

I’m not sure it had even occurred to me that she could be bad at something. Usually when you catch someone later in life they’ve already mastered all the things and you just get to see the end result of their mastery. In that moment I got a behind-the-scenes look at what had made her into such a wonderful artist: she was a lifelong learner. She was disciplined. Dedicated. And that beauty and skill showed itself in her work.

She was a musician.
Granny was the one who taught me how to play chords on the piano.

I was probably seven or eight when we discovered I had an ear for music. I had a tiny keyboard, about a foot long. After listening to a Stevie Wonder song one day, I sat down and plucked out the main melody. I continued to play one handed until a few years later. After meeting Granny, she showed me how to play chords and the understanding of how to mix those black and white keys together in melodies and harmonies enhanced my love for music.

She’s also the one who played the piano when I sang my first solo in church. I was so terribly nervous that I sang with my back to the audience because I couldn’t look at anyone!! I’m sure that must’ve been an awkward moment for everyone but she was so gracious. She just smiled and encouraged me and who knew this shy and awkward girl would grow up to lead worship in so many places over the years?

She was a prayer warrior.
She deeply cared for others and that frequently manifested itself as fervent prayer. I remember many occasions listening to her and Memaw pray over different situations. When you know God is real and that he answers prayer then it becomes the most powerful way you display your affection for another human. Who wouldn’t want a godly grandmother covering them in prayer? She loved God and it was clear in the way she loved others. Her prayer life was deep and rich and many people knew they could call her on the phone when they needed encouragement.
She was a rock, a firm place in a world unsettled.

She was many things to many other people but these are the parts that I got to see.

I believe grief is the most beautiful way to say this mattered- she mattered. But I also feel a deep deep delight that I was privileged to know such a beautiful soul and I only had to wait 13 years to meet her! 13 years of distance before we ended up in the same tiny corner of earth and it is a gift to have memories of all those precious moments stored away in my heart. Who knows? Perhaps memories are God’s way of allowing our loved ones to stay with us a bit longer.

Originally posted March 27, 2022