Executive's Letter

Late this summer, we lost my Grandmom Smith to nothing like a long battle with any major disease at all. She lived a good, long life, and went about as peacefully as I imagine anyone can. She left me with a bevy of fond memories: her ability to crochet anything whatsoever, her syrupy voice, soft skin that smelled of cold cream and baby powder, and a candy dish always full of Hershey’s miniatures.

I thought I had a pretty good handle on my Grandmom. Her obituary was fittingly sweet and tidy, summed up by her church membership and the names of her surviving children, their spouses, and progeny.

So I was somewhat surprised when I read in the funeral home bulletin that Grandmom had been born in Georgia. Grandmom, as all of my family since the dawn of time, had hailed from East Tennessee. That she would have originated anywhere else didn’t fit with my understanding about her young life. But I shrugged this off because, except during football season, coming from Georgia isn’t all that much a transgression.

As my father and his siblings have sorted through Grandmom’s belongings, their surfaced memories have come to me as random revelations about Mary H. Smith, and have helped me appreciate a woman far more complex than the one I thought I knew. But the greatest revelation has been the truth behind her Georgia birthplace. My great-grandmother had taken her pregnant self and her children to north Georgia to be nearer my great-grandfather, who was at the time in federal prison for moon shining. When they returned to Tennessee, my Grandmom was the newest edition of the Holt family.

All of this has caused me to contemplate the elusive nature of personality. What chance do any of us have to truly know someone else? Helpmate’s clients have learned too well that personality can be inconstant and even volatile, and that trust in a nature that once seemed compassionate and loving can be horribly exploited. By the time our clients come to us for services, their faith in their own ability to judge character has been shattered. A healthy trust in others is something they must rebuild as part of their recovery from abuse.

The more interesting revelation for our clients is what they learn about their own personalities. As they work toward building lives that are free from violence and fear, they surprise themselves with the depth of their own resilience, their own creativity, and their own strength.

None of us can expect the full picture of our loved ones. Some–perhaps including my Grandmom–have edited the full picture so that its composition makes more sense in context (most certainly, the fact of my great-grandfather’s incarceration did not fit into the church-going, simple, country childhood Grandmom painted for us grand kids). Others have edited the full picture so they can later manipulate the people and situations around them.

Most times, we’re lucky to have a full picture of our own selves. We see better glimpses of our self-portraits when we are forced to rely on our innermost resources–as like Helpmate’s clients–during times of grief, of trauma, of recovery.

– Valerie Collins