Mama’s Pocketbook

 

My mama passed away in October of 2020. With Easter here, I have so many memories. My mama worked full-time up until she retired at 62. She had some difficult and tiring jobs. But she came home and made dinner every night. She got up early and cooked breakfast every morning. She sewed our dresses and play clothes even into our adult years. I had several fully-lined suits that she made. 

 

Mama always dyed Easter eggs with us and put them in our baskets. We used the same basket every year. We hid those same eggs over and over until they were lost or eaten. I remember eating one boiled egg about a week later that tasted funny.  It’s a miracle I didn’t make myself sick.

 

When mama passed away, I cleaned out her last purse. She never called it that. It was her pocketbook. My childhood memories are of where to find peppermints and a dime. If we needed a tissue. She had one. Aspirin? It was in there. 

 

Her last purse still had her comb, address book, wallet, calendar, and a nail file. There were some peppermints still in there. If you needed something or had a problem, it could often be solved by opening her pocketbook.

 

My mama had a stroke and Alzheimer’s throughout the brain diagnosed several years before her passing. Although she already was declining, it wasn’t until her stroke in July of 2020 that “everything was different” in my Daddy’s words. She never again cooked a meal, sewed a button, used the tv remote, or opened the refrigerator. She still could walk and talk, but much less. 

 

Her pocketbook still went with her up until she used a wheelchair. She would leave it behind often but it went anyway. After she was gone, I sat in her den and went through it with family sitting around. Daddy wanted to keep her wallet, but I partially emptied the purse and took it home with me. Amazingly, we had almost matching tastes in pocketbooks. On several occasions when I visited, we would get ours mixed up.

 

The peppermints weren’t good anymore and the nail file was ancient. She had carried that same one for many years. One time we were all at a Boy Scout event and they had inspection—one by one the boys sat down as scouts were tapped as the best in their den. Then, finally, there were two and my brother was one of them. Evans Scoggins, Scoutmaster, looked them over good and looked flummoxed at a decision. Finally, he said, “Let me see your fingernails.” They held their hands out and my brother was declared the winner. Mama would never let him stand inspection with dirty fingernails.

 

I found two pocket calendars spanning 2015-2018. That was where she kept up with everyone’s birthdate, doctor’s appointments, and death dates. I guess when you are in your 80’s you lose a lot of friends and relatives and she kept up with details like that. In 2015 she had marked her own birthday with “me” and “82.” On May 5^th of 2017^th she marked anniversary “us, 66.” She marked events attended like graduations, weddings, or showers. She even marked when she talked to her further away grandchildren or when the first tomato came in the garden.  Visits with grandchildren or special events like “fireworks,” were written. Every hair permanent and B12 shot was in there to remind her. 

 

The last year she kept a calendar was 2018—it was still in her pocketbook. The only entries after the 1^st of July were birthdays that had all been written in red pen all at once at the beginning of the year. All the other days are blank. The calendar stayed in her purse until her death. None of us wanted to dismantle it with her still here. She didn’t use it, but it was hers. 

 

Death is final when it comes to the things of this world. Mama won’t need any more B12 shots or a hair appointment. The pocketbook is a reminder that this life isn’t all there is and we shouldn’t put too much value on it above the life to come. 

 

Easter is a reminder of the hope that I will see my mama again. We can never know whether someone is a true follower of Christ. But we can look to see if there is spiritual fruit in their lives. How did they treat other people? Was there unconditional love? Was there grace when it was undeserved, or joy even during tough times? I saw all of those in mama. 

 

The Bible tells us in John 3:6-7 that “whatever is born of the flesh is flesh.” My mama lived on earth in the flesh for 87 years. When she breathed her last, her flesh was dead, but her Spirit lived on because she was born of the Spirit too.  Jesus said, “Unless someone is born of water and the Spirit, he cannot enter the kingdom of God. . . you must be born again.”

 

Because of Easter, the celebration of the Resurrection of Christ from the dead, when Jesus conquered death once for all, those who are born again “will not perish but have eternal life” (John 3:16). 

 

You can’t take your pocketbook with you, or anything else. It is just you standing before God. If you haven’t surrendered your life to him, you can do it too.