Free The Color of Hope by Kim Cash Tate Page A

everyone leaned forward as Grandma Geri stared straight at them. She was sitting up in her bed, pillows propped behind, wearing the frailness of her last weeks.
    “I bet y’all are in Rocky Mount, eating hotel chicken that don’t taste near good as mine.” A raspy laugh made Grandma Geri cough a little. “Y’all thought I wouldn’t be there to complain about it this year, didn’t you?”
    Laughter broke out around the ballroom. Grandma Geri was known for saying what she felt, though her delivery was a little labored now.
    “Well, I don’t have long. And I know you know that ‘cause I’m dead if you’re watching. But I asked Libby to tape this message for me and not to tell anybody till she showed it.” She leaned forward a little. “Wood, you spank her for me if she told.”
    Libby’s dad looked at her from the other side of the table. He had tears in his eyes, as did Libby.
    Grandma Geri continued, “In this family, we’ve had good times and sad times. We’ve done right, and we’ve done wrong. Amen?”
    Heads nodded. “Amens” sounded.
    “But one thing we always done—hold to His unchanging hand. It ain’t just a song. It’s what we do. I don’t want none of y’all to forget that. We ain’t nothing without the good Lord.”
    She paused, and more “Amens” filled the space.
    “I got to go. I’m tired.” Grandma Geri coughed. “I love you. But I’d be lying if I said I miss you. I told y’all I wanted to be with my Jesus and my Elwood, and that’s just where I am.” She held up her hand in a wave. “I’ll see you when you get here. All right, Libby, turn that thing off.”
    The screen went black, and no one moved. Libby wouldn’t have known if they did anyway, because her head was lowered, tears streaming down her face. She’d seen the video a handful of times, but it had never hit her like this.
    Travis leaned over and put an arm around her. “I miss her too.”
    Libby missed her, and that was surely part of it, but there was more . . . even if she couldn’t put her finger on it.
    At the table next to them, a voice started, “Hold to His hand, God’s unchanging hand . . .”
    Travis immediately stood, adding his voice. “Hold to His hand, God’s unchanging hand . . .”
    Seconds later the whole room was on its feet, which was quite a sight with a sea of olive-colored reunion shirts.
    Travis led them into the first verse. “Time is filled with swift transition, Naught of earth unmoved can stand . . .” Everyone knew the next part: “Build your hope on things eternal, Hold to God’s unchanging hand.”
    Hands clapping now, they launched into the chorus again, “Hold to His hand, God’s unchanging hand; Hold to His hand, God’s unchanging hand. Build your hope on things eternal; Hold to God’s unchanging hand.”
    Libby hadn’t sung that song in years, but the words were there. And she felt them. On her feet with the rest, she sang the chorus one last time. They ended with a hand clap of praise and took their seats.
    Wood walked to the podium. His booming voice made him the natural emcee at these gatherings, and he’d played that role effortlessly tonight. Right now, though, he seemed at a loss for words.
    “Wow,” he said finally. “I wasn’t expecting all this. But I should’ve known Mama would have the last word, even moving us to praise.” He paused as people chimed in their agreement. “We all know how much her presence is missed here this year. We’ve talked about it throughout the weekend. Hearing her voice one last time . . . that was . . . really special.”
    Libby looked on, filled with emotion.
    Wood looked over at his daughter. “I want to thank you, Libby, for producing such a splendid video. It’ll be a family treasure always. And I have to add that this entire evening has beenincredible. I know you worked hard pulling together all that talent for the talent show, even coaxing family members who never get up here to unveil their hidden talents.”