She was born on July 14, 1916, in the house still standing on the next ridge. Her dad–John Wesley “Virge” Kilgore–bought this entire part of the undeveloped rural countryside in 1903 and built the house, the barn, the blacksmith shop, and eventually the garage which would hold his old Packard. Everything still stands, including Lois Jane, one of his middle children, whose birthday the family is celebrating today. Lois married Carl McKeever on March 3, 1934, and they moved 5 miles south to Nauvoo, produced 7 children (the fourth would die soon after childbirth in 1939), and have lived to see their household sprout into so many grands and greats that Mom despairs of trying to keep up with them.

If you could have chosen your mom or grandma, you’d have picked her. My brother Ronnie points out that she never smoked a cigarette, never took a drink of liquor of any kind, and never uttered a profane word in her life. He adds, “as far as we know.” The rest of us would bet on it.

She was raised to love the Lord, read the Word, and support her church, and she’s still at it. That church is the New Oak Grove Free Will Baptist Church 2 miles from Nauvoo. It’s the same church, although with sparkling new buildings, where Virge and his bride Sarah began worshiping over a hundred years ago and where Lois and Carl met in 1930.

We call this “roots.” Through both Dad and Mom–but particularly through the Kilgores–this family has roots, solidly planted in the soil of Winston/Walker Counties of northwest Alabama.

My brother Ron put a note on this blog a couple of weeks ago requesting cards to Mom for her birthday. As of today, Saturday, she has received perhaps 110. (“I think,” she said. “The number changes every time I count them.”) She’s read them and reread them. “Right now, they’re spread over the dining room table.” Each day this week, from 7 to 16 have arrived each day. I usually call about 9:30 just to see what came in today.

Some of the family is coming in this afternoon at 3 pm for watermelon and ice cream and cake. “That sounds like a combination, doesn’t it?” Mom laughs. I suggested most people would not eat them together. But you never know, with our bunch.

She reads some of the cards to me over the phone. One said, “I think you pulled this same scam just about a year ago.” She’s saving the pile until I come in a few weeks to read through them. I’ll introduce her to some of my friends who read about her birthday over the internet and wrote to her. I’ll be telling her about you.

I’ve told you about Mom’s cooking. She learned from her mother, Sarah Noles Kilgore, of course, and that produced a kitchen technique of “a pinch of this” and “just a little of that,” but it came out exactly right. Thankfully, Mom taught Patricia and Carolyn how to cook just like her, but regretfully, none of her four boys. To this day, the only thing I do well in the kitchen is clean up after the meal. Margaret says that suits her just fine.

In the early 1970s, I was minister of evangelism at the First Baptist Church of Jackson, Mississippi, and we lived in an apartment complex on the western edge of the city. Because I attended both morning services of the church, but Margaret and the boys came just for the later one, we were traveling home in two cars. Marty might have been 7 and Neil 10.

At one point, the cars were stopped together at the red light. We waved to each other. I said to Neil, who was riding with me, “She sure is pretty, isn’t she?” He agreed. I said, “Who does she look like?” He didn’t know. I thought she favored her mother somewhat and said, “She looks like Grandma, don’t you think?” He was quiet for a moment, then said, “She looks like Grandma. But she cooks like Granny!”

The highest compliment a 10-year-old kid knows how to give.

Happy Birthday, Mom. You’re the best. We thank God He gave you to us and us to you. If you don’t mind, we’d like to keep you around a few more years. So, don’t be too eager to leave us. As your granddaughter Deanna says, “Granny, we’re not through with you yet!”