The Pate Potpourri: A Gigi Story: The Tale of the Uneven Slippers

I posted about a week ago that I was going to be adding more diverse topics to my blog. Since that time, I have posted my 5 favorite passages of scripture and many other "potpourri-ish" things that I think would be good content for my blog. I mentioned adding a feature called "Gigi Stories." These posts would be stories that my mother told me when I was a little girl. My mother's childhood was pretty hectic, but that didn't stop her from making the best of it! She is a creative genius and many times that has gotten her into trouble. The Tale of the Uneven Slippers is an example of one of those times...

My mother was born in Houston, Texas, in February of 1962, to Loy Raymond Glover and Lois Lenz Glover. She was the youngest of 5: Terry, Tim, Tamara, Theresa, and Margaret (her name was supposed to be Tracy, but my grandmother decided at the last minute to name her Margaret, after a sister who lived in Minnesota) My mom's father was an alcoholic who died of alcohol poisoning when she was just 5 years old. That left my grandmother to tend to all 5 children by herself, all while working full time at a convenience store down the road from her house. Not only that, but my mom's family lived in an all African American neighborhood during the turbulence of the 60's. It was a very scary time for them.

When my mom was about 10, she went to live with the Starns family. Mr. Starns was the preacher at the church that my mom's family attended. He and his wife offered to take my mom and her sister, Theresa, until my grandmother could get back on her feet. My mom still saw my grandmother during the summer, but she moved with the Starns' whenever they moved and lived with them wherever they lived. It was during this time that this tale occured.

The Starns' had children of their own. Their youngest daughter was named Desia Raye, and she was closest in age to my mom.

One Sunday morning, my mom and Desia Raye were sitting next to each other on a pew at church. They were scheduled to go to the front of the auditorium and sing a "special" on this particular Sunday, but they were not paying attention. Instead they were playing with each other's shoes. Mrs. Starns had taken them the day before to buy a new pair of shoes each. Desia had chosen a pair of heels, and my mom had chosen a pair of flats. My mom really wanted to try on Desia's shoes because she did not own any heels. So they traded. Each girl now had on a flat shoe and a high heel.

And wouldn't it happen that at that very moment, Mr. Starns called them to sing up at the pulpit. They did not have time to switch shoes. So, they walked lopsided up to the front of the church building all the while dissolved into a fit of giggles. They laughed so hard that they had tears pouring out of their eyes and could not make it through the song. They tried very hard to compose themselves so that they could sing this "special" that they had been preparing for, but to no avail. They would sing a few words and hold their noses to try to keep from laughing. Mr. Starns finally put a stop to it and asked them to go sit down.

No one else was amused. Let's just say they GOT IT when they got home.

This was always my favorite story that my mom told me. I love it because it reminds me of all the times that I would start giggling in church and would have to be taken out. Yes, children do need to learn how to act in a worship service, but it is a rite of passage to start giggling in church and have to be taken out.

My mom did eventually learn how to act in church. She grew up to be a Bible class teacher to the 2's, 3's, & 4's for over a decade. She taught my brother, my sister, and me how to act in church as well as many other kids who did not biologically belong to her. My biggest complaint on Sunday morning was that I did not get to sit next to my mom. Every other child in church loved her so much that they wanted to sit on top of her. My mom always reminded me that we got her during the week, and we had to share on Sunday mornings.

Now that I am grown, I am glad that she made us share. She will always be my mom, but other children (whose parents did not come to church and who got picked up on the church bus by my mom) got a chance to have a "mom" on Sunday morning.