The Ledger

By Jennifer Greene-Sullivan

Monday afternoon, I found my nine-year-old son stretched out on his great-grandmother Teenie’s loveseat.

Both my husband and I had to work later than usual, so Liam spent the afternoon with her. Teenie turned 95 in August, and I stopped by on my way home from school before taking Liam to football evaluations.

Somehow, our conversation turned to the old homeplace that once stood on top of the hill where our barn sits now. The house burned years ago, but Teenie still remembers it.

“Why is a homeplace so important?” Liam asked.

Then he remembered another one. “Mama lost hers too when her cousin tore her grandparents’ house down.”

He was talking about my Mama Greene’s house, which was torn down not long ago. Liam knew losing it hurt me, but at nine years old, he didn’t quite understand why.

Teenie began explaining the importance of family, memories, and home. As I listened to this 95-year-old woman talk to her great-grandson, though, I felt the Lord showing me something more.

Maybe our most important homeplace was never a house at all.

Every morning on my drive to Wilcox County, I pass Dogwood Gardens, where my grandmother Vonceil lives. My Nannie is also 95, and as I pass, I thank God for her legacy of faith.

For as long as I can remember, Nannie’s mornings have included coffee, her Bible, and her devotion. She didn’t simply tell us Jesus was important. She lived it.

Monday, I saw the same legacy at Teenie’s house.

Before Liam and I left, Teenie moved her Bible from beside her on the couch so we could sit down and hug her goodbye. Before we arrived, when no one was watching, she had been studying God’s Word.

Jesus said the one who hears His words and follows them is like a wise man who built his house upon the rock. Storms came, but the house stood because of its foundation.

Women like Teenie and Nannie know something about storms. In 95 years, they have experienced joy and grief, births and funerals, abundance and loss.

Still, they built on the Rock.

While they were building, their children watched. Then their grandchildren watched. Now their great-grandchildren are watching.

The old homeplace on the hill is gone. Mama Greene’s house is gone, too. Thankfully, what these women built cannot be destroyed by fire or torn down by a bulldozer.

Their legacy lives in generations who watched them trust Jesus and learned where to place their own feet.

One day, those of us who know Him will gather in a Home no fire can burn and no bulldozer can tear down.

Monday afternoon, a 95-year-old woman moved her Bible so a little boy and his mama could sit beside her, and  I realized she had spent a lifetime teaching us the way home.

That is a homeplace worth passing down.

Because women like Teenie and Nannie taught us to build our lives on the Rock, even when earthly homeplaces disappear, torn wings still fly.