Change With The Change

A story for parents and grandparents, who wonder, if anything they say, sticks.

When I was young, I didn’t want what my elders were selling, all that slow ‘n steady, do right, even if it’s boring, even if it hurts.  

I grew up on a farm, understood seasons, but my elders were preaching sow ‘n reap not in a spring and autumn, but over a lifetime, and that was just too long, for someone who hadn’t lived long.

In one ear, my family was like a whisper, with all that boring do-right, God stuff.  In the other ear, society was loud, telling and selling, fame means you matter, money means you matter…

Do They Hear You?

The quietest adult in my childhood was my Maw Maw.  (I know of a CiCi, a GiGi, a Sassy, but when I was a kid, Louisiana grandmothers were one thing, Maw Maws, that was it.)  

Mine was a country version, no makeup, always wearing an apron, steady doing chores, went all the way up to 60 inches up, if you counted her hair bun.

Picture is someone’s Maw Maw, drawing water from a well. She’s part of the foundation, for descendants who don’t even know who she was. What she did, what she stood for, it was always up to God, to bless her effect, upon the future of her line.

Whereas my grandfather went to school “when it was too wet to plow,” Maw Maw was considered more educated, “she went all the way to the sixth grade!”

She was the next house down the gravel road, a house I never had to knock on the door to enter.  How many meals did I eat there… How many Saturday morning cartoons did I watch there…

Thinking About Purpose

Sometimes people do things, say things, that don’t seem big, in the moment, but they have great purpose, great effect.

Maw Maw was the quietest adult, never preachy, but she’d been alive a while, had some thoughts on life, what worked, what didn’t.  To her, life was like weather, something bigger than you, something you adapted to.  With her all-the-way-to-the-sixth-grade education, she said these words, “You have to change with the change.”

Back in those days, if you’re a boy, looking for some life wisdom, you’d go to your father or grandfather, because they were supposed to be on the serious side.   

My Paw Paw, bless his heart, when I think of memorable advice, his was about being frugal with money, “Slow to spend, fast to save.” That’s useful. But not as useful as what Maw Maw said..

God Is Sneaky Like That

Maw Maw was more on the watch-me side than hear-me side.  Maybe because she was so quiet, maybe that’s why we heard her, when she strung together seven one-syllable words, to form a truth, “You have to change with the change.”

She’d be amazed, that out of all the things that could’ve stuck, that phrase did.  It wasn’t some big formal moment. She probably was wearing an apron, but the moment had purpose.

God is sneaky like that.

Every parent and grandparent wants to lay a good foundation, show the youngsters what works, what doesn’t, but you never know if anything sticks.  I hold to this truth, that God Makes It Matter. Which is why a little bitty Cajun woman wearing an apron passed along a useful truth, that I never got from suit ‘n tie college professors or know-it-alls on TV.

Saying Was Her Saving

In my early 20’s I got my first big death, my grandfather, her husband. 50-something years… Time passed, I went to spend a weekend with her. She was like a shell, an eggshell, the loss had hollowed her out.

I was paying attention.  Next time I saw her, a little of her old smile. Next time, more of the old her. I saw her change with the change.

It wasn’t just her saying; it was her saving.

She died in the 1980s. I kept living, life kept changing. 

I caught some bad licks. I wasn’t as tough as her, but I got tougher. Her words were a candle in a dark place.  Change is normal, some is good, some is bad, but either way, bend, adapt, accept, figure it out, go on.

When my father died in 2015, the next weekend I went back to the gravesite. She was buried just down the row from him. I could hear her in my head, “Change with the change.” 

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This edition of Uncle P’s Bedtime Stories is dedicated to the people who have given us gifts of life wisdom, often angels, unaware.

Looking for more Uncle P stories?  Check out the Eighty-One Facebook page.  All three of his books can be found at Expressions, 3100 Ryan St, LC, and at Flock o’ Five, 217 E Thomas St, Sulphur.  Uncle P can be reached at eightyoneantiques@gmail.com.