Birdie & Me
Yesterday, just before 6 PM, Birdie Idell Low Cotter passed quietly from this life into heaven. Even as she entered eternity to the full presence of God, she left behind a legacy of family, love, and most important, faith.
Birdie was born January 20, 1907. That’s right…104 years ago. In this picture to your left….she was 22 years old when the picture was taken in 1929.
Sixty four years passed until her path intersected with my own. In 1993, I made my first trip to Texas with my then-girlfriend, Kelli Cotter. I had agreed to accompany her to Baytown in South Texas, where she was to be a bridesmaid in the wedding of her childhood friend. The trip from Colorado included a stay-over in Weatherford, where Kelli’s Mammaw lived.
My first meeting with Mammaw was relatively unremarkable. This 86-year-old widow was nice and welcoming, but she was not overly interested in this boy accompanying her sweet granddaughter. I remember being impressed that Kelli’s granddaddy built this home with his own hands. I’m still impressed by that.
That night, Mammaw led me downstairs to the basement bedroom where I soundly slept. Kelli and Mammaw occupied the bedrooms upstairs. Years later, I learned that Mammaw locked the basement door, confining me securely downstairs to protect Kelli from any mischievous temptations that may have originated within the downstairs tenant. Birdie unlocked the door before I awoke none the wiser and we said our cordial goodbyes.
In the years that followed, Kelli moved from being my girlfriend to my fiance’ to my wife to the mother of our children. In that time, Mammaw moved out of her home built by her husband’s hands into an apartment that was more accommodating to the limitations of her more than 90 years. Eventually, her boys Gene and Sam (Kelli’s dad) moved her into Sterling House, an assisted living facility. She lived in Sterling House for ten years.
Mammaw liked to brag on her family, particularly her great-grandchildren. On one of our many visits, another Sterling House resident stopped to say hi to Birdie. Mammaw proudly introduced each of our children, and then us as “My grandson Bryan and his wife Kelli.” This brief mis-introduction was likely unintentional, but it certainly represented the real change that had evolved in my relationship with her. Somewhere over the years, she had gone from being Mammaw to being my Mammaw.
When Mammaw was 101, her increasing care needs required that she be moved Sterling House to Holland Lake nursing home. She experienced a stroke at 102, after which she fell largely silent. In her final two years, she spoke few words (none that I heard myself), but did not cease living. Her eyes lit up when she was surrounded by her family… particularly her great-grandchildren. She’d manage to pucker her lips to share kisses with each of us. She’d smile as we spoke with her, and tears would brim when we spoke of Jesus or sang songs of faith.
Kelli and I were able to see Birdie on the last Monday before her death, and Kelli, her parents Sam & Ruth Lynn and her Uncle Gene, were with her in her final moments on this side of eternity.
Many years ago, before either of my parents were even born, Birdie and Cliff Cotter made a choice to live differently. They determined to live as people of faith. The faith in Jesus that had saved each of them would also be the faith that would shape their family.
God honored that decision, and faith became their legacy. They understood that faith wasn’t hereditary…it wasn’t their children’s birthright. But they also understood that faith in Jesus is utterly contagious. They determined that as best they were able, their behavior would match their beliefs. What they did would agree with what they said. As a result, their boys came to faith in Christ and lived according to the same principle and led their own families to do the same.
This is the environment I entered when Kelli permitted me the privilege of wooing her. I didn’t share their values, and I didn’t share their faith. And in our time together, they didn’t condemn me and they didn’t try to change me. They just lived unashamedly, uncompromisingly as people of faith. And it made an impression on me.
Their faith was genuine. It was humble. It was servant-minded. But it was happy. And it was attractive. As time passed, it wasn’t that I wanted to be like them. However, I wanted what they had - faith. I needed what they had received - grace. Their example facilitated my receptivity to the gospel. I “caught” their faith and it became my own. And however imperfectly, we have strived to live according to our beliefs; accordingly, God’s Spirit has transformed our family.
Birdie has gone home. Her legacy endures.
