I have a second cousin who was fortunate enough to have a portrait taken when her baby was born that included five generations. We never had a formal family portrait made with five generations because my grandma and mom were gone before my first grandchild was born. But, the photographs we have are cherished dearly.

I was playing around on Ancestry the other day and it gave me this collage with my maternal great grandmother, my grandma, my mom, and me. I think mom favors her dad’s people, but you can sure tell the family resemblance with the other three. My great grandmother, Nellie May, died when she was only 28 years old…my grandma was nine. Nellie left her husband with three little kids to raise and he soon had a new wife to take care of them.

Knowing my great grandfather as I did, I know Nellie May had to be a strong woman. Then losing her mother so young, my grandma and her older sister had to take care of the baby while Grandpa worked. I know what a strong woman she was. She only went to school through eighth grade and married my PopPop just shy of her 16th birthday when they ran off to Oakland, MD. Her first baby was stillborn, then my mom came along. Grandma had five other babies in seven years. She was much happier working outdoors than in, so my mom was left with a lot of the work of caring for the babies and the house. 

My older brother was born with cerebral palsy, so she had to be strong to do all the things she needed to do to raise a special needs child while navigating the minefield of a marriage stunted by alcohol and emotional abuse. It wasn’t an easy life for any of these women, yet they created a beautiful line of strong women. I see it in my own children and grandchildren.

I’m proud to stand in this line. The lessons I’ve learned from the women who created me have been invaluable. They’ve made me who I am today. They’ve taught me to rely on Jesus to carry me through the rough times. They’ve taught me to love and care for others. I hope I do them justice as I try to be strong in the passages of life. Sometimes I don’t feel I measure up, but then I know…that’s the enemy talking and not the way God…or these women…saw/see me.

I know that the reason I live in West Virginia now is the love for these hills that I learned from my ancestors. I know it must be in my bones, because I feel a kinship to this red clay soil like nowhere else I’ve lived. Perhaps these three women who’ve gone before me are sitting in a row of rocking chairs on the front porch, looking down at me and mine. Maybe they smile and nod. Maybe there’s a lot of eye-rolling going on. I hope they’re proud of what I’ve done with what they shared with me.

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“Then the Lord God said, “It is not good that the man should be alone; I will make him a helper fit for him.””

Genesis 2:18 ESV