My Grandmother’s Apron

Unfortunately, my maternal grandmother, whom we called “Muh,” passed away when I was eight years old, being ill a number of years even before that. But there are still a few things I can recall about her when she was healthy. Like how she would say, “Much obliged,” when she would get out of the car after we had taken her to her hair appointment. Or the way she would swing with me on the large front porch of her home. Or the way she cared for my older brother and me when the twins were born. Or the way she gathered eggs from the hen houses. Or the way she fed anyone who showed up at her door … whether they be home folks who would stay awhile or drifters moving through via Highway 341. And to be considered what many would call poor, there was always plenty of food on that large oval table (the table that now sits in my own breakfast room); food that had come from her and my granddaddy’s land and the labor of their hands and backs. Ah, yes. I can still feel the sweat running down my back and the smell of corn as she and the other women “put up” vegetables from the garden. 

But the one thing that was distinct about my grandmother is that she always had an apron tied around her waist. It was not anything fancy by any means. Just a homemade piece of cloth she donned in the morning and took off before she went to bed. 

For most people, aprons are a thing of the past. Some might still wear them to protect their clothing in the kitchen while cooking, but a quick look in stores or online reveals a more decorative type wear. But for my grandmother and those of her generation, an apron was a tool. I imagine first and foremost it was to prevent soiling the dress, keeping the clothing from the wear and tear of washing. But she also used it to remove hot items from an oven or to pick up a warm pot or plate from the stove. She used it to dry her hands, dishes … as well as tears. Hers and others. And when gathering those eggs, she made it into a basket to tote them back to the house; or to gather the fallen apples or pears from the fruit trees in the yard. I have read that Susanna Wesley, mother to 18 children including Charles and John, would throw her apron over her head for a moment of silence and to pray. I wouldn’t be a bit surprised to learn that my grandmother did the same thing — though she only had two children.

In the New Revised Standard Version, 1 Peter 5:5 reads, “Clothe yourselves with humility.” The New Living Translation says, “Serve each other with humility.” But it’s The Passion Translation that brings it home, opens it up and gives it new light. “Wrap around yourself the APRON of a humble servant.” Ah, I had a perfect picture in that of my Muh.

In all the years that passed after she died, I never heard anyone who knew my grandmother speak an unkind word about her. In fact, it has been just the opposite. They haven’t been able to praise her enough. Maybe it all goes back to when she wrapped around herself that apron; the apron of a humble servant. For indeed she was. 

I kept one of Muh’s aprons. It is safely preserved in a drawer in my buffet in the dining room. Maybe I should go pull it out and tie it around my own waist.

Just an ordinary moment…