Momma Molly

I have been to many funerals and have also done my fair share of them also. I understand the need to honor the person who has just passed and the likelihood that between family members and friends that is probably some type of drama unfolding over family possessions or a sense of who really ruled the ‘roost’ next to the departed. I didn’t know what to expect as we pulled up to this church that was literally hidden from the main roads in an area that had older houses that would be viewed as a marginalized neighborhood that had seen better days. I had spent the last year being a friend to Molly after we had painted her house and done a handicap ramp.

I had little sense of Molly’s or Momma’s involvement with church. When I met Molly she wasn’t the outspoken matriarch but a broken person who was suffering from kidney failure and was ready to go home to be with her Savior. The person I did meet was someone who was still proud enough to shudder if I showed up and she hadn’t placed her wig properly on. We had been blessed to have some partners do a high-end video of our work and one of the sites that was used happened to be the painting of Molly’s house.

The morning of the painting I had no idea what Kim and her crew would actually do with videoing New City – Barrio’s work. They had been interviewing a variety of people and actually getting shots with volunteers working. I was surprised that they ended up doing a short piece with Molly and her grandkids. Molly at that point was still able to communicate very well. She made a comment that as I look back on my life will be significant. Kim, a great friend and one whose family helped Molly, asked, “What do you think of what Dave and his group is doing?” her response, unscripted was simple, “It is beautiful, I love it!” As I watch this video often it strikes me and I get that fluttery heart thing happening.

As we pulled into the parking lot it was actually full and our friend and key volunteer to Molly’s grandsons, the little twins, also pulls up. Because this church was literally hidden from the road it was too easy to miss it and drive away. Yet, our good friend Victor calls and I direct him to the right entry we all converge and walk into a full church. What was totally shocking was that the family filled up half of the church. Unfortunately, my experience with Molly’s other kids, all of them are older with kids and grandkids wasn’t the best. I realized that whether the pastor gave a simple reminder, “Say only positive things and honor Momma Molly”, that most likely there would be some sparks flying between family members.

If you have never been to an African American funeral it is totally different from your typical ‘White funeral’. Most funerals I have done or attended or usually fairly calm, quiet, reverent and only a few will talk. Yes, there will be tears but they are usually quiet sobs. The minute you walked into this sanctuary you sensed that the Pastor and those participating have their ‘loud voices’ activated. The service revolved around individuals that sang, usually without instruments and could easily be heard without any microphone. It was mostly Momma’s good friends that sang and read scripture and a few poems.

The pastor was a tall man who wore glasses and had a robe on which totally surprised me. I thought only Presbyterian or Lutheran types wore robes. He was more the director of the funeral than a participant. My wife was a little disappointed that he didn’t say more or gives a better sense of Momma Molly’s faith and life. Yet, the ones that chose to speak shared their hearts about Momma. It was clear that Momma had a large family, cared for most of them, was smart enough to see the advantage of staying in school and became a nurse. She clearly spoke her mind and anyone that ignored her caught her wrath.

As the different friends and family members shared they had a video shown of her life. This was mostly pictures of family gatherings and not many of Momma when she was younger. I knew that the part of Molly’s family I had grown to love and adopt was on the outside of this service. The mom of the twins, who has become very much part of New City, was totally devastated because of the way her sisters and brothers had treated her over the last 6 months of Molly’s life. Everything was about money, possessions and the house. The sad tragedy was that few of them did anything to help Momma. The twin’s mom was the one who has set her life aside to be there 24-7 for the last 5 years.

Over the last year I would be by the house at least 2-3 times per week and honestly didn’t see many visitors unless it was a cousin or 2 that was actually living at the house. I knew that the battle was really over the house and who would get it. I had helped Molly with some financial mishaps that had been caused by her granddaughter who was very slow to admit to her taking advantage of her grandma. Yes, I was biased towards the twins and their mom so I was interested to see how the funeral would portray Momma and the family.

As the older sister finished the time of sharing about Momma I was shocked that she would actually talk about the obvious battle with the house in a less than subtle fashion.  I knew that this was going to totally devastate the twin’s mom and actually hit me as not honoring Momma. Yet, as with all funerals there is always one or two that can’t stop crying. The big guy that was out of control ends up making a scene where he is so loud yelping that you can’t pay attention to the last part of the service.

One of the elements of the service, which I did like, was called resolutions. A few of the family members and friends read statements they had made commitments to live better lives because of Momma. This was an awesome part of the service. One of the grandsons, who is in the military, actually read her obituary and did an excellent job. The pastor finished with more of a summary than a eulogy. We were directed to leave the church to give the family an opportunity to say their good byes to their Momma Molly.

As we walked out I did sense that I discovered a side of Molly, which wasn’t apparent with all of her health issues. I was thrilled to know that she had a church home where her faith had impacted many friends and her family. My hope, which I’m sure is Momma’s, is that her family will truly discover the Savior that now has raised Momma Molly from the dead. Oh, I did forget one side of Momma’s, that I wasn’t totally aware was that Momma used snuff and it just wasn’t any  kind of snuff but sweet snuff. I am so thankful that Nellie, a neighbor whose house we painted suggested we paint Molly Livingston’s house. My life will never be the same. I will miss you Momma and I do promise or make a resolution to watch over your twins their sister and mom.