A MIRROR'S MEMORY

"I was twenty when she died.My Mother's Mother was living with my parents and I was in college when she finally lost her battle to Pancreatic Cancer. Her name was Lessie Alford and she was the oldest of 10 children,born to a farmer in eastern North Carolina. She was also,according to everyone who knew her,a saint.
She didn't make the news or have wealth or fame.She was not important in politics or church history books.She was a school teacher,a Sunday School teacher, a farmer, a neighbor, a wife, and mother and grandmother. She was the kindest and most loving person I have ever known.
After her death,the family gathered to divide Grandmother's few belongings. My sister chose her quilts. My cousins wanted pots and pans and the sweing machine.My mother wanted to keep her wedding rings. My dad asked for her Bible and my brother wanted a few pictures.
I chose my grandmother's mirror.
It was part of a set, but I don't know what happened to the brush and comb.I suppose I got them as well,but I didn't keep up with them.The mirror has a long handle and is gold- plated with a now-faded floral fabric backing. Like my grandmother,on the surface,it does not look that remarkable.
For more than 20 years I never understood why I chose the mirror. I never remember my grandmother actually using it. She was never one to wear much make-up or worry too much about her looks. She was not vain; she rarely checked a mirror and I don't recall that this mirror was that significant to her.
Recently, during my weekly house-cleaning,as I was dusting the bedroom furniture,I picked up the mirror and decided to look at myself.I down the dust rag, held the long handle in my hands and turned it over to see my reflection.And without having any clear idea why I was having this revelation at that particular moment,it was just at that time that I finally understood why I chose my grandmother's mirror.
I have never thought of myself as being special or important.Infact,I would have to say that I have spent much of my life feeling inferior,insignificant,even worthless.Mine,I have learned is a constant and familiar battle for many people, that struggle of never quite feeling good enough.As I stared at myself in the mirror,however,I realized that I never felt that way when I was with my grandmother. She always made me feel special and significant and beautiful.
She said only good things about me,always told me that I could do anything,that I could be anybody. And I realized as I stood looking at myself in grandmother's mirror more than 25 years after her death,that this was the reason for my choice. This gift meant more to me than her jewelry or her hand sewn quilts,her iron skillets,her pictures or even her Bible.I wanted to keep for as long as I live,my grandmother's image of me. I have always longed to see myself as she saw me.
And so the mirror remains close at hand. It will bring me what nothing else can,a reflection of myself, created and given in love.It holds the best of me,the view from my grandmother's eyes.It is her greatest gift."
Lynne Hinton (Writer of Faith & Values in the Charlotte Observer)