Out of China

I am sitting at my desk trying to work, but my mind keeps going back to this weekend and the very special experience the Murphey Family was a part of. Saturday night, our family attended the long-awaited "Out of China" reception at the Macon Museum of Arts and Sciences, along with dozens of family, friends and other community members.

This exhibition of fine porcelain, given in memory of my beautiful Momma, Judith Meier Murphey, thanks in part to the record-breaking memorial funds they received in the wake of her death last year, was in a word: Perfect. The spirit of the evening was utterly light and positive, such a joy to celebrate and remember Mom with her most beloved friends. And the pieces on display were like precious pieces of Momma herself: delicate, strong, beautiful, priceless.

I must go back some time in the next couple of months and truly admire the exhibit, in less of a frenzy of hugs, smiles, speeches and hurried expressions of gratitude. From what I was able to absorb, I know that Mom would have loved the exhibit itself, if not the fact that she was the center of attention. She certainly would have told me more about the pieces than the information cards and shown me hints of how to really appreciate the fine craftmanship.

Her Garden Club heard the call as well and purchased a piece to remain in the Museum's permanent collection. A lovely tribute for a woman who truly loved the MMAS and believed in its importance to the community. It was Mom's wish that donations be made here in hopes that a small rush of funds could ease their heavy financial burdens. They ended up receiving more money from her memorial than any single one in history. A fact I am sure she would not have believed and would have died of embarrassment over. Her sincerity and humility as much a part of her as her understated strength, infectious laugh or hatred of herself in pictures.

When Daddy first told me about this evening, I found myself circling around the word "fine" a lot in my mind. As in fine porcelain. The finer things in life. She was a fine lady. Mom loved fine things and she liked to surround herself with them, and not just the things in her house but the people in her life. She took only the most special people into her inner circle. And fine didn't mean expensive, or rich, but quality, priceless and rare. She knew it when she saw it in a fabric, food, an object, a new friend or a moment. It reminded me how on the day we realized and told Mom she was dying, I lay beside her on her hospital bed watching Barefoot Contessa. Sort of an odd thing to do, since given the nature of her illness we'd all realized she would never eat again. But there we were watching Ina make some lovely concoction with "good mayonaise," "fresh basil," "fresh cracked pepper." I turned to Mom in a sudden understanding and said, "You taught me how to live a good life." I will always remember the smile on her face, the moment between us when we both realized we'd done good, her as a mother and me as her child.

After the reception, a few of us Murpheys and out-of-town friends gathered and had a lovely dinner at Marco's and caught up on the past year, exchanged stories and raised a glass to the finest woman we'd ever known: our Judy.