A vessel of love

In High School my favorite teacher was Mrs. C. She was my Senior English teacher but we went way back. Her daughter was in daycare with my brother (I'm not positive that I was still there when she was there but that's logistics) and Papa Bear was a teacher at the same school. Anyway, Mrs. C. was the most wonderful teacher. I wasn't the best student my senior year of high school. I had "senioritis" so bad and sometimes was doing my homework as it was supposed to be turned in. Mrs. C. would never get on my case overtly, just subtly and with love. I always knew I was loved by her, especially because I had a nickname..."B". Just "B".

Mrs. C. got sick soon after I graduated high school. She was brave, fought valiantly for life and was successful for years. During that time her daughter, now grown up and with daughters of her own, started working for our church and then attending the church. I would see Mrs. C. at special events and church dinners and she always, always had a smile, a hug, a kiss and a beautiful "Hi B". Even years after High School that "Hi B" spoke volumes and volumes of love.

Mrs. C. died a couple of years ago, way too young. Since that time my friendship with her daughter has grown and grown. A while ago I noticed that she had started calling me "B". It made me stop in my tracks...that one letter of my name was filled with so much love coming from her mom and that same respect and love was shining through her daughter. Every time she says it, it's like Mrs. C. is saying it too and my heart explodes with joy.

Mrs. C's daughter is with me this week in Pearlington. She's very amazing in her own right and has been a joy to be around. Yesterday was her birthday and we went to the beach after working for a little break. I knew that Mrs. C's daughter was missing her mom on her birthday, not to mention her hubby and 3 kids at home and had plans for later that evening to just celebrate her. As the majority of people spilled out onto the beach I noticed that Mrs. C's daughter was holding back. I turned around and yelled out "Come on M, you have to put your toes in the water!". Turns out those words didn't actually come from me. Mrs. C chose that moment to speak words of love to her daughter...and I was humbled to be the vessel.

The toes of Yo Momma, me and M in the Gulf of Mexico