Silk Scarves and Prayer by Hannah Nelson

I find myself wearing silk scarves a lot these days. It’s not because silk scarves are considered trendy by today’s fashion standards. In fact, they’re not. And as I am a stay-at-home mom of three kids under five, you can accurately surmise that I am no fashion maven. But when I tie the soft, buttery fabric around my neck and look at myself in the mirror, I think of her. My Maw Maw. Southern as turnips and cornbread with a double helping of friendliness and hospitality, she was the kindest woman I’ve ever known. 

Her bright, green eyes and warm smile could melt the sternest of stoics and win over the grumpiest of grouches. Her love for Jesus overflowed into every corner and crevice of her life. She was an absolute delight to be around. She wasn’t perfect. Like any good mother and grandmother, she battled with worry. But even as a young girl, I remember being impressed with what she did with her worries. Rather than clenching her fists tightly around her fears and holding onto them for dear life, she instead released them each day to the only one strong enough to shoulder their weight: her sweet Jesus. 

Many mornings, she poured herself a cup of black coffee and sat down with her little journal to pray. And pray she did. She filled notebook after notebook with all kinds of prayers. Prayers for people she knew closely and loved deeply, prayers for people she barely knew at all. Prayers for ongoing battles, prayers for future victories. Prayers of petition, prayers of gratitude. My Maw Maw made it a regular practice to offer her prayers and petitions to God. It was so encouraging to read back through her prayer journals and note all the ways God had used her prayers and had faithfully answered her. I am struck by her consistent turning towards God throughout her life. Regardless of whether a situation confused and perplexed her or downright broke her heart, she rolled her cares over to Christ. She took seriously Peter’s instructions in 1 Peter 5:7: “Cast all your anxiety on him because he cares for you” (NIV). Her life demonstrated that she really believed these words, for she rested and relished in her Savior’s love for her. 

There’s something profoundly humbling about reading a prayer someone else has penned for you. The idea that you were on someone else’s mind and that this person cared enough about you to take your burden to God and intercede for you: Wow! That’s love! And this is exactly what my Maw Maw did for me; she loved me and she prayed for me. 

As I looked through my Maw Maw’s journals, I found many prayers written out for me in her beautiful cursive handwriting. Her prayers weren’t wordy or contrived; they were just simple, unhurried conversations between her and God on my behalf. As I read her handwritten prayers, even in the wake of her passing, I still feel the deep love she had for me and the abiding joy she found in her Lord. Her prayers for me were such a gift, for which I am eternally grateful. 

My Maw Maw wasn’t famous. She was not the most educated woman. She never went to college, but instead got married at 17 and finished out her senior year by mailing in her coursework. She was not the wealthiest woman; she never had the corner office with a view or made a six-figure salary. She was raised by a single mother who put food on the table by the work of her needle and thread. She had an absent father, and she sometimes wondered aloud why he didn’t care enough about her and her mama to stick around. She worked hard for 40 years as the office manager of an optometrist’s office though her true job description was helping people from all walks of life feel loved, welcome, and seen. She was a faithful wife to her beloved T.E. for 52 years and was the devoted mother of three and grandmother of six. She buried her sweet mother, her precious husband, and her dear son. I remember her telling me that there was nothing quite as painful as burying a child, no matter how old he was when he passed. She and my grandfather taught Sunday School for decades, they helped their friends and neighbors every chance they had, they loved traveling, they loved cooking for people, and they loved talking about Jesus.

My Maw Maw was not a Hollywood starlet, but to me, she was the epitome of grace, elegance, and beauty. 

My Maw Maw lived simply, but she lived well. She taught me to serve others and put their needs ahead of my own. She taught me that a broccoli casserole and pound cake can fix almost anything. She taught me the value of having an inviting home that makes guests feel welcome. She taught me that evangelism isn’t just a box to check off on a Christian to-do list, rather it’s a lifestyle. She taught me that marriage and raising children aren’t impediments to doing important things, but that they are the most important things. She taught me that deep friendships and rich community are often built while eating taco salad or fried bologna sandwiches at someone’s house after Sunday night church. She taught me that there’s nothing classier than a woman wearing red lipstick and a silk scarf and that there is great power in the prayers of a righteous woman. 

So today, as I tie my silk scarf around my neck and paint my lips red, I remember my Maw Maw. And I pray that I will follow in her example. I pray that like her, people will see Jesus in me. I pray that like her, I might clothe myself with “compassion, kindness, humility, gentleness, and patience” (Colossians 3:12, NIV). I pray that like her, I might hide my heart in Christ. And I pray that like her, I might be a woman of silk scarves and prayer.