Aunt Sallie: A Life Well Lived and We Know It

Sallie Glenn. Aunt Sallie. The people's aunt — literally, and beyond. She bore no children. It's rumored, and I believe it, that she had no relations. Yet she raised generations and begot relationships.

My Aunt Sallie is my great-great aunt. My son's great-great-great aunt. My maternal great-grandmother's sister. They were the last of twelve children to both their parents — more, six more, were to come after the untimely passing of their mother. Aunt Sallie would tell you that her daddy, "Papa," raised them all like they were full brothers and sisters. That must be why she did the same with me and my cousins.

My Great-Grandma Elizabeth and Great-Great Aunt Sallie were the original frick and frack, yin and yang, sister sister. One was not without the other — and thank God for that, because for Grandma's fire, Aunt Sallie was water. As if they didn't have many other siblings, alone they were the perfect balance. As a family, we couldn't imagine one without the other. When Grandma would get feisty, Aunt Sallie nicely reminded her who was two years older. She was the older, and she handled her big sis duties well. When Grandma saw the Lord in 2004, Aunt Sallie instantly and graciously took the reins as head of not only "our" family, but all of the cousins who come from Jim Glenn and his brother. All family was immediate family to Aunt Sallie.

She read her Bible every single day.

Aunt Sallie passed away on March 13th, 2020 at an exact age unknown. All we know for sure is her birthday is June 6th and she was in her 90s — and it definitely wasn't 90 or 91. She read her Bible every day, every single day, for as long as I can remember — by the window, with her coffee, and glasses to the edge of her nose. She never wore pants. Her ears were unpierced. Her hair was silver as moonlight, although you'd never know as it was tucked neatly under a black bob-length curly wig that she rolled each night. She hadn't raised her voice since Cheyenne was born — she was her favorite, and I recently caught her slipping twice where she basically admitted it. She didn't have to tell us anyway. We knew. We all knew.

Most people don't believe me when I reference her ever raising her voice. She was a woman of few words, wise enough to use her energy on precious matters. She was prim, proper, and particular. You would know from far away — and certainly up close — that she didn't play. She'd tell you if she didn't like something you did, or wore, or said; quickly, with a side of a hand slap and her infamous, "Don't make me take my shoe off." When my elementary school friends Caresse and Roberto would come to my house so we could walk to school together, she'd let Caresse inside for an in-and-out breakfast; Roberto, the boy, wasn't allowed in — but she'd pack him something for us to bring him. Old school. Most recently, she hated my ripped jeans and smacked my knees when I had them on — and did not laugh when I laughed at her smack.

She never stopped showing up.

She celebrated our accomplishments; there was never a stage I walked, an event I had, a milestone I achieved without Aunt Sallie. From before kindergarten to after college she never stopped showing up. One of my favorite memories of her is how she'd attend Bible studies and laugh at jokes that may have gone over others' heads. She was sharp. She'd ask about people she hadn't seen in decades and when she thought about them she made sure to get in touch. She stayed out of the limelight and calmly carried our family — rebuking, rejoicing, and realigning.

If you needed someone to pray, who you knew undoubtedly was going to pray — and not wait to pray, but pray right when you asked — it was Aunt Sallie. She was going to ask you what church you went to, and if you didn't have an answer, she'd invite you to hers... like she did in the hospital in her last weeks. And you'd better have shown up. She'd witness, she'd pray, and the Holy Spirit would rise in her and she'd quicken her arms faster than Usain can move his legs — anywhere, anytime. She loved Jesus. She was the example of a Christian woman — although set in her ways, unmovable in her views of modern attire and our casual posture, she modeled the most important characteristics of Christ: love, care, and kindness toward everyone. But nothing like how it was toward children. Just like Jesus.

Dominique. Cheyenne. Massai. Tahela. Faith. Gabby. Skyy. Just a short list of her most recent babies. The much longer list includes too many to name — but to go for a few: my grandmother, my mother, my eight-count of sibling-cousins, all of her brothers and sisters' kids and their kids and their kids. Legacy.

Generous and gracious without a second thought.

Twice I've told her I liked something she was wearing and twice she handed it to me the next time I saw her. She promised to pay for Honor's pampers until he turned one and made good on her promise. This past Thanksgiving, I fried the fish — and even until this month she still complimented me on how good it was.

Aunt Sallie is my girl. My model for holiness. My symbol of wisdom. My blueprint for grace. She walked miles with and for us — literally. She talked to the Lord on our behalf. She strengthened our feet by her own and our lives by living her own. She is proof that millennials are paying attention and are listening to the wisers who have earned our trust and respect. She is a life well lived — and we know it.

Aunt Sallie, I already miss you tremendously. The next weeks, months, and years will feel empty without you. But heaven is yours. I am sure that as you saw the gleaming face of Jesus, your heart was revived to better than it has ever been — or could ever be — here with us.

I will rejoice with the angels. God is our strength, and now He is your everlasting presence. Don't rest — rejoice. You are alive now. I love you forever, Aunt Sallie. ❤️

"And now, dear brothers and sisters, we want you to know what will happen to the believers who have died so you will not grieve like people who have no hope. For since we believe that Jesus died and was raised to life again, we also believe that when Jesus returns, God will bring back with him the believers who have died." — 1 Thessalonians 4:13-14