|This is not me and Aunt Reva|
Today, in 2013 I pray to her for inspiration and advice. I lean on her to nudge the circumstance gods of my personal friends and family. She is an angel, who, when she was living and breathing the air I breathe, had amazing success promoting the law of love in my universe. I didn't realize it when I was little girl spending summers in her Mt Pleasant, Texas country domain, that she would always and forever be making an important contribution to my shift in consciousness, which actually began at her funeral in 1992.
She is Reva M. Jackson, affectionately known in my family as Aunt Revie. I never heard her fuss or disagree with or argue about anything. She wasn't a hero or saint, or a wild woman with something to gain or prove by opening up her home and life. She was a crafter and a seamstress, a country chef, and snuff dippin' organist whose self image didn't seem to exist. She had a freezer filled with goodies ready to cook ready to eat. She was a gatherer. And her house could have stood to be a little less rickety than it actually was, but it it was always country clean and inviting.. At night, there was an occasional roach and mouse, but I remember the mouse traps and cans of bug spray and fly swatters much like I remember the snuff and spit cups conspicuously placed about. She had a shit ton of dusted old books and a little fat sheep dog named Happy. Her guest bedroom rooms were haunted, as personally experienced by me. I could not take a nap during the day without the spirit of my great-grandmother hoovering over me. I never knew what that sensation over my body was until adulthood, when I mentioned this to my mother. I was never afraid, but always annoyed. When I wanted to take a nap it was because I was tired, and this thing was determined to get my attention and keep me awake. It would eventually lose it's grip on me and I could drip into a comfy sleep. Forgetting about it until the next nap, and never mentioning it to anyone.
Aunt Reva imparted wisdom and inspiration without using too many words, that always invited a personal relationship and memorable personal experiences with her. She was very different than my grandmother, her sister. And my mother loved her, dearly. Even more than she loved her own mother, I think. It seemed to me that Aunt Reva was differently blessed with the spirit and intellect to divine the ability to live in harmony and draw others to her. She was a Baptist who married a Methodist. She and her husband, Uncle Marion, slept in the same room but went to different churches on Sundays. As a child, I never understood the discourse and gossip that Methodist thing created behind her back. Well.. more so behind his back. He was a unrelated unicorn married to our angel. If Aunt Reva was ok with the arrangement, why couldn't everyone else be?
She was 85 when she passed away, and today she'd be 106 years old as of April 1st. She might have made it, had it not been for those strokes, as she's got a brother who just celebrated his milestone 101st birthday, and a sister, my grandmother who is 92 in August this year.
I wish my daughter could have known Aunt Revie, personally. There are times when we all need that one person who knows what to do like a very laid back high priestess who would never lay on hands or lecture, and she never wrote a book or banged you over the head with the One she read daily. She was a poet and a scholar living in relative quiet and quaint anonymity, knowing all that she knew from where she stood would bless me (and others), and my daughter, after all.
Her life was greatly lived and I wish she was still here to get a letter in the regular mail from me and write one back. She is the reason I still buy postage stamps to this day. I don't know if she'd use email if she were alive today. But if she did, she would love the innovation and magic of it for what it is and does for humanity. She would probably Skype and Youtube in order to remain active in the lives everyone distant, but I know for a fact, she would still write letters.
Well.. I was thinking about her and I wanted to dedicate some space to her name and legacy. When I think of her, I feel like she's the one above all who served to liberate me from the dogmas of my upbringing and culture that constricted me. I'll try to find a picture of her and post it, too.
Is there a person besides Jesus and God who influences you, even if they are no longer around? How so? I would love to hear from others on this.
Anyone can teach you about love... but I can make you good at it!
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