Xanna's Web

“One generation commends your works to another;
they tell of your mighty acts.” (Psalm 145:4)

This will be the first Mother’s Day I’ll be celebrating without any living grandmothers. I know that’s the way of the world, but it does cause you to think about where you’ve been and where you’re going.

Each of my grandmothers and great-grandmothers had special ways of serving (I was blessed with wonderfully diverse experiences, from very traditional homemakers to very non-traditional career women). But beyond all the practical things they did, each woman served as the family hub for her generation. They were the ones who drew us together, negotiated truces behind the scenes when there was a tiff, told stories of our ancestors, bounced the new generation of babies, prayed us through crises, encouraged us to keep close to God and to each other.  And when one of those hubs passes from this earthly life, the mantle must be passed to the next generation.

Five generations: My great-grandmother, Valeria Jackson; my grandparents, Vernon and Ruthe Jackson; my mother, Xanna Young; and baby Katie. Taken in 1988.

I’m blessed to have a mother who takes these things seriously, along with many other members of our family.  They are connectors, hubs in their own right, determined to keep our family intact regardless of how the winds blow.  My mother’s been showing me all along how it’s done, just as her mother and grandmothers showed her.

One of the most beautiful things about my mom is to see how she sustains the web of relationships she has woven over the years.  When I was five, we moved to Brenham, a place where Mom knew very few people – but she marched in there with her gravity-defying beehive and began her magic. I remember being outside with kids from the neighborhood as she, the former cheerleader, taught us to do cartwheels. Those kids had mothers, too, and coffee was shared and friendships begun that would be important in the years ahead. 

Many of those same cartwheeling girls became members of the Girl Scout troop that Mom led for twelve years. Over campfires and cook-out food and a living room full of cookie boxes, she blessed each one with a listening ear and a ready laugh.  

As my brother got older and started playing baseball, my dad was the coach … but that was just another place where relationships were built. She knew all those boys’ names and still sees them around town, where she’s greeted by a “Miz Young” and a smile.

Mom built similar webs at church, Washington County Electric, Brenham High School, Mt. Vernon Mills, State Farm, Faith Mission – a host of people who freely exchange love and friendship, kids kept up with, deaths mourned, encouraging words spoken. Those Girl Scouts and band kids and baseball players and  grocery sackers and co-workers still feel the connection to her after all these years. She was recently honored for 20 years as a volunteer reader at the elementary school – it’s hard to imagine how many lives she has touched. And I can’t even fathom the size of her birthday card list! If you’re celebrating, struggling, or ill, count on a card from her and a prayer behind it. 

This same love for deep connection has carried through to her grandchildren.  Mom and Dad made a commitment early on to be part of each birthday celebration for their grandkids – and I can only think of a time or two when they didn’t make it.  Six grandkids … that’s over a hundred road trips to Abilene or Missouri or Grand Prairie or Houston or Dallas, not including graduations and concerts and plays!  And just like Boo Boo did, she's still sending birthday cards to all of the great-nieces and great-nephews, aunts and uncles and cousins, showing that you can still stay connected, even if separated by location or age.

If you measure wealth by relationships, Mom is a millionaire! And those of us who have been touched by her are grateful recipients of that wealth, entrusted with passing it on, just as it was passed on to her. So, happy Mother’s Day, Mom! I’m so glad to be part of your wonderful web.

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 “You have been my friend," replied Charlotte. "That in itself is a tremendous thing...after all, what's a life anyway? We're born, we live a little while, we die...By helping you, perhaps I was trying to lift up my life a trifle. Heaven knows anyone's life can stand a little of that.” – E. B. White, Charlotte’s Web