Monday Motivation: The Open Back Door

Friends

I hope this finds you well on this Monday morning. I know my messages have been sporadic lately, but it continues to be a challenging time for our family.  Eric and I appreciate your continued prayers for each of our parents and for us. There has been little time for writing as my focus has been on caregiving, but today, I wanted to share a story I have been tinkering with for a few weeks about a special lady in our family.

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“Her children arise and call her blessed, her husband also, and he praises her. Many women do noble things, but you surpass them all.”

Proverbs 31:28-29 – NIV

The back door was open, but then again,  it was rarely closed. I bounded up the brick steps and crossed the threshold, the slam of the screen door announcing my arrival. She was standing at the stove, brown head bent, intent on her task, no doubt concocting some tasty treat. Her cozy kitchen was her favorite spot in the house, and just the mere thought of the creations that came out of that kitchen made my mouth water.

She looked up, meeting my eyes, offering that beautiful smile that never failed to light up her face. “Hey Shuug!”, she said in her sweet Southern way. “Shuug” was short for “Sugar” and it was always her greeting for me. 

I smiled as I said “Hey!”, crossing the room to give her a quick hug. Without so much as a pause, she launched into her series of questions beginning with “How are you?”, progressing to “Whatcha’ been up to?”, and finally wrapping it up with “Can you stay for supper?” These were always her questions, each and every time I came through her back door. 

I chatted for awhile with her as I made myself at home. It wasn’t a stretch for me, because her kitchen felt like home. Although  Jane and I were only cousins to one another, that never stopped me from feeling like her other daughter.

Jane’s daughter Cathy and I had been the best of friends since we were in diapers. Jane and my father Joe were first cousins on the Rice side, the grandchildren of Mettie Eugenia Terry and Walter Harold Rice. The Rice cousins were all very close and grew up playing together. Their tight bond did not diminish once they were grown, and they made it a point to keep the family connections strong.

Cathy and I were the firstborn of the next generation and only eighteen months apart. From the time Jane and my mother Pat put us on the floor to play, we were inseparable. I thought the sun rose and set in Cathy. I was an only child, and she was like my big sister. While Cathy eventually had a younger brother Ken, we girls stuck together as much as we could.

For Cathy and me, spending time together was not so easy. I was an Army brat, and my father’s military assignments took us all over the world. Growing up, the only place I called home was South Carolina, happily returning whenever I could to the fields of my grandparents’ farm, located just down the road from the Rice family homestead. Anytime we came home for a visit, my mother and Jane would get Cathy and me together for a playdate. At the  family picnics and holiday gatherings,, Cathy and I would always sneak away to play Barbies somewhere.

The real treat was when Jane would invite me to spend the night at their house. Cathy’s father Gerald would greet me with a “Hey, Gal!”, and he and Jane would make me feel right at home. Compared to the quiet of an only child’s house, Jane and Gerald’s house was hopping. There was always something going on. People regularly dropped by for a visit, the house alive with friendly chatter. Something was always cooking in Jane’s kitchen, and she insisted on you sampling it whenever you dropped in.

I think Jane loved our slumber parties as much as Cathy and me. She loved hanging out with us girls while we played Barbie’s, or dress-up, or a game of cards. She was a night owl, happy to hop up from the couch at midnight to throw together a Chef Boyardee pizza if we had a hankering for one. If one of us mentioned a milkshake at 9 o’clock, she would slide on her shoes, and away we would go to the drive-through. Jane loved for us to have fun, and she was always up for anything that made us smile.

Our Army assignments landed us all over the United States, and Jane and Gerald often came to visit us if we lived anywhere close to South Carolina. My favorite visit was when they came to Chicago to see us. Cathy was 10 years old, and I was almost nine. After an earlier visit to Chicago that summer, I had traveled back home to the farm with my grandparents to spend a few weeks with the family. Jane and Gerald wanted to see Chicago, and they offered to drive me back home to my parents and enjoy a chance to explore the city.

 Cathy and I had spent a lot of time together that summer. Our favorite game was dress-up. Holding up our hairbrushes to our lips, we pretended we were glamorous singers.  There was a popular song on the radio that summer called “Wendy,” and we both knew all the words by heart. Prancing around in front of the mirror in our long nightgowns, we sang the chorus at the top of our lungs into our would-be microphones, absolutely assured that we sounded marvelous.

The drive to Chicago was long and boring, so we girls had to entertain ourselves. Singing seemed like a great choice, and so we sang “Wendy.” Then we sang it again, and we sang it again, and then again, and again, and again.

It got to the point that Gerald told us we could only sing it one time per day. We would comply with one resounding rendition at the top of our lungs. He and Jane would suffer through it, only to find us singing it again as a whisper in the back seat. Gerald was glad to get to Chicago and get his singing stars out of that car. Jane just laughed.

Jane was a brilliant seamstress, following in her mother’s footsteps. Cathy was the best dressed girl in Greenville County, because her mother and grandmother were always sewing clothes for her. No pattern was too hard for Jane. She could whip up the latest fashions and make them look like they came out of a magazine. 

I benefitted greatly from these sewing activities, as I inherited all of Cathy’s hand-me-downs! It was a big deal when a box of clothes showed up in the mail with Jane’s return address. It was like Christmas all over again, and Jane’s clothing creations saved my mother a pretty penny!

As far as Jane and Gerald were concerned, to travel was to camp. Their purchase of a state-of-the-art pop-up camper in the late 1960’s was their ticket to ride. Every summer, there was a trip to Myrtle Beach and at least one trip to the lake, and as we grew, I had the honor to tag along as Cathy’s playmate. My parents never camped, my father having his fill of roughing it Army-style, but camping with the Creswell’s was far from roughing it. They had a set-up fit for a travel magazine. Jane had that campsite organized to an art form, with a place for everything, and everything in its place.

Jane always made our camping trips fun, playing games with us, laughing at our silly stories, or serving up some tasty treat. We hiked and biked, played cards and ate popcorn. I ate enough of Jane’s delicious cookies that I nearly popped! At the beach, we built sandcastles, pedaled the paddle-boats, and rode the waves. No trip was complete without the annual tour of the Pavilion, riding the carnival rides, eating cotton candy, and cruising the shops. At the lake, we lounged in the sun, splashed in the water, and chatted by the campfire. Gerald taught me to water-ski, and given my innate lack of coordination, that was no small feat! We must have played a thousand rounds of cards around the picnic table, many played well after midnight, and no matter the hour, Jane hung right in there with us.

 

I was 15 years old when my father finished his active-duty military service, and we moved back to SC to be near the family. My parents bought a house about 15 minutes from Jane and Gerald’s home on Apple Drive. With a driver’s license in our pockets, Cathy and I tore up the road, traveling back and forth between each other’s houses. We spent several nights a week together, me sleeping in her bed or she sleeping in mine. When we weren’t at the mall shopping, we were busy going to movies, ballgames, or concerts. You name it, we were always together. Cross-stitch cloths and embroidery thread in hand, we spent hours listening to our favorite records. Gone was our collective crush on Donny Osmond, our sights shifting to discussing cute boys at school instead. Before long, we started to date, she before me, of course. Somehow, Jane managed to stay in the middle of it all, cooking for us, laughing with us, and in her own quiet way, keeping tabs on our comings and goings.

 

I was in and out of Jane’s back door for a couple of years until I moved away again. Cathy and I remained close as we headed for college. Before long, we were planning each other’s weddings, me serving as her maid of honor, and she my matron. When the babies came along, we celebrated the birth of each of our children, her two beautiful little girls and my busy boy.  Though distance and the busyness of life kept us apart, our families remained close. Jane’s was always the first Christmas card to arrive each year, and she was quick to throw a party whenever we came to SC for a visit. As the years passed, we followed each other’s lives through phone calls, Christmas cards and the much-beloved family reunions.

My visits to Jane’s back door were less frequent as the years passed, as work and child rearing consumed my time. But on those occasions when I could drop by, Jane would always be there with a warm smile and a “Hey Shuug!” I can hardly believe that ten years have passed since Jane went on to Glory. I still miss those bright eyes and that warm smile, but somehow, she still feels close by. 

I think of Jane often, in fact, I think of her every time I step into our camper. When Eric and I decided to step into the camping world in 2019, I couldn’t help but chuckle at how much Jane and Gerald would have loved seeing Eric and me embrace RV travel. When we were searching for a nickname for our new little camper, I knew Jane was smiling down from heaven when we christened it “Mettie Jane.” It’s been a perfect name, and we loved it so much that we named our second larger RV, “Mettie Jane 2!”

 

Jane was a bright light to all who had the privilege of knowing her. I had the honor of growing up under her guiding hand, and it was truly a blessing to be her other daughter.

PRAYER

O Loving Father, thank You for the love of good, godly women who bring joy and light into our lives. Thank You for the blessings they bestow upon us, and in turn, help us to honor them by being a blessing to all those we meet and greet each day.

In the Loving Name of Jesus, we give thanks and pray,

Amen

Blessings,

Anita

-APS 8/17/2026