Grace Like Grandma
Ella Jane Cox
July 27, 1940 - November 23, 2004
Her light and legacy still live on.
I can still picture it like it was yesterday. Sitting on the front row of Mount Olive Missionary Baptist Church with my grandmother, Ella Jane, I tugged at her skirt, interrupting her worship, to ask for a mint candy. Her hands were raised toward heaven, her voice in song, fully immersed in praising God. And there I was, a little girl, pulling at her and asking for “mint candy” like it was the most urgent thing in the world.
She pinched me—a quick, silent reprimand—but then turned around and handed me the mint anyway.
That day, I learned a lot about Grandma’s hands. Hands that praised God with everything in her, but hands that also pinched when needed. Hands that disciplined, yet never stopped giving. Hands that were strong but tender. That’s grace like Grandma.
It’s a grace that corrects but still provides. A grace that teaches without withholding love. A grace that reminds me so much of God’s grace for us. In that moment, her pinch told me, “Not right now, you know better,” but the mint said, “I still love you, and I’m still here for you.”
Her Legacy of Grace and Service
Grandma Ella Jane wasn’t just a woman of grace; she embodied it in everything she did. Her life was a masterclass in service, strength, and unwavering faith.
At an early age, she joined Mount Olive Missionary Baptist Church, where she grew in her faith and became a pillar of the congregation. She served faithfully as the president of the Senior Missionary Board and past president of the Usher Board. She was the organizer of the Sunbeam Junior Missionary and sang in both the Southern Wonders and Mount Olive Mass Choirs. She was also a dedicated member of the Deaconess ministry.
But Grandma’s grace wasn’t confined to the church walls. She co-founded the Browns Ferry Community Service Project and was the president and founder of the Eager Women Social Society. I still don’t know exactly what those meetings were about, but I knew Grandma and the other women meant business. Of course, that didn’t stop my cousins and me from sneaking salted peanuts and butter mints off the table whenever the opportunity presented itself.
Grandma’s mission was clear: to serve her church, her community, and anyone in need. She worked at Georgetown Memorial Hospital from 1973 until her passing, spending the last three years of her career as the manager of Central Sterile Supply. And no matter where she went, Grandma always carried her notes—her “chicken scratch,” as we lovingly called it. She was an avid note-taker, constantly jotting things down, whether she was planning, organizing, or reflecting. Her scattered papers were a testament to her thoughtful, intentional life.
Grace in the Hardest Moments
Grandma was a private and virtuous woman, carrying herself with dignity in every season of life. Even when she faced cancer, she did so with an unshakable grace. She never complained or sought pity. Instead, she remained strong in her faith, continuing to serve and love those around her.
One of her favorite songs was Too Close to the Mirror, a song that deeply resonated with her understanding of grace. Grandma often said we’re too close to the mirror to see ourselves as God does. We don’t see the beauty, the potential, or the worth He sees in us. She knew that the blessings she received weren’t because of anything she had done—they were expressions of God’s abundant, unmerited grace.
I wonder if my grandma knew her name meant “light,” and I wonder if she knew that’s what she was? Just like grace, she illuminated even the darkest of places. Her light shone brightly, offering warmth, comfort, and hope to all who crossed her path.
Her Legacy in Her Daughters
Grandma’s light didn’t fade—it continues to shine through her daughters, who carry her essence in unique ways:
Loretta (Ret) embodies Grandma’s smooth, deep brown complexion, a compassionate heart for others, and her prayerfulness and devout Christian faith.
Comeletia (Dollie) reflects Grandma’s no-nonsense attitude and sass, standing firm in her convictions with an unfiltered honesty—but always willing to give the shirt off her back and her very last to help someone in need.
Chelice (Nell), her baby girl, carries on Grandma’s generous spirit with a heart for service and pouring back into her community, along with her love for shopping.
But Grandma didn’t just pass on traits—she instilled values. She taught her daughters faith, hard work, the power of prayer, and the importance of family. These were not just lessons; they were cornerstones of her life and the legacy she left behind.
What’s beautiful is that the values Grandma instilled in her daughters didn’t stop with them. Each of her daughters has passed those same lessons on to their own children, creating a ripple effect of love, strength, and grace that spans generations. Her legacy lives on not just in the traits they inherited, but in the values they continue to nurture in their own families, ensuring that Grandma’s light will shine for years to come.
Family After Grandma
When Grandma Ella Jane was here, she was the glue that held us all together. Even when we didn’t agree, we got along because she didn’t play that. If there was conflict, she would referee with love—and maybe a little discipline, too.
After our matriarch passed, the dynamic changed, much like it does in so many families. Without her presence, it felt like the balance was gone. Roles shifted, misunderstandings grew, and sometimes it felt like the unity she upheld was slipping away.
But there’s grace for that too. Grace to forgive when tempers flare. Grace to embrace new roles, even when they feel heavy. Grace to honor her legacy, even when it feels like we’re falling short.
Grief doesn’t erase love, and it doesn’t erase grace. God meets us in the mess of our emotions, offering His presence as we navigate the shifting dynamics of life without the ones we’ve lost.
Carrying Forward Her Legacy
Grandma Ella Jane wasn’t just a matriarch—she was a force. She was adventurous, generous, and full of life. She loved to shop and took me on some of my very first trips. I remember New York most vividly. She showed me how to dream, how to explore, and how to embrace life fully.
Her hands were always open—open to serve, open to give, and open to love. Grace like Grandma is messy and beautiful. It’s the pinch that says, “Do better,” and the mint that says, “I still love you.” It’s the discipline that doesn’t withhold love, the strength that’s wrapped in tenderness, and the heart that gives without expectation.
Grandma, thank you for teaching me about grace, even when you didn’t know you were.
Your Tin Lizzy.
