I had a dream. A dream that I could be a writer, a dream that I could find and fuel a writer's guild here in our small corner of southeast Georgia.
She made my dreams come true.
Inspired by the support of my friend, Okefenokee Heritage Center Director Steve Bean, I started the Okefenokee Heritage Center Writer's Guild. We started with more people than I anticipated. Still, it was nervy that year to begin the Okefenokee Heritage Center's Writing Contest.
You never know what might be inspired by a writing contest. Steve told me of a woman at Baptist Village who had wanted to submit a poem but was concerned about the format she had to submit it in. He helped her type it up and got it ready for submission.
That poem, My Life in Rhymes, won in the poetry division. She came out to our awards banquet, and this wonderful, charming, 85-year-old woman received her prize.
I fund that she had inspired to write in recent years, and was building up a coterie of poems, short stories, and reminisces. They were all wonderful, folksy and heartwarming, revealing how different daily life may have been, but the one great universal truth was family, friends, and love.
She expressed an interest in attending her our monthly meetings but had no transportation from Baptist Village. I could solve that. For the next five years, I brought her each month to the Heritage Center.
Grace Lee meant so much to me. Her writings were an inspiration. She had a wonderful spirit and a beautiful connection to people and events. Her writing style often reminded me of Mark Twain. There was a truth and decency that permeated her works.
She inspired me, starting to write at 85. I had often felt like it was too late for me, that I let that ship sail by. No, I have not had the success that I wanted. But I do love to write and to share it with whoever is willing to read it. She helped me understand that it was never too late to pursue your dreams.
Like many in my age range, my own parents had passed, my mother in 2008, and my father in 2013. I miss them every day. But Grace helped with that. My father was like Grace, raised on a farm, and an educator, a sweet-natured man that was kind to all. He also wrote about his family and growing up - I have a half dozen binders filled with his stories and genealogical research, going back 13 generations. Spending time with Grace was like getting extra time with my father and the world he came from. Both lived to be 91, Grace passing December 2nd. Both struggled with mobility issues in their final years. Both remained loving and kind, filled with stories and humor.
Time with Grace was a very special time for me. Picking her up, and talking with her in the car, and at meetings, was always filled with lively and intelligent talk. Her memory of events and people was stronger than mine. I enjoyed spending time visiting her at Baptist Village, something that I did not so often enough. I am ashamed that I saw her very little in the last few months. We get so busy sometimes, we forget the truly important things in life.
She helped make my dream of a Writer's Guild come true. She inspired my dreams of being a writer. She connected me to dreams of my parents.
Those dreams, and my memory of her and how she touched my life, will live on. I will continue to share her stories.
She is with Jesus now, with her loving husband and other family members that have passed. She is with my mother and father, looking down with love and caring, inspiring us, keeping our dreams alive.
I love you, Grace Lee, for inspiring my dreams, for being my friend, for your unconditional love and support. I will always cherish you.
