Church Basement Coffee

My mother volunteered in the church basement in Roanoke for as long as I can remember.

Funerals, blood drives, pancake breakfasts, coat collections — she was always there early, setting out folding chairs and making coffee strong enough to wake the dead. She did not lead the committee. She just did the work everyone noticed only when it was not done.

After she passed, people I barely knew told me she had brought casseroles to their houses, sat with their mothers, or called when they were lonely.

Virginia history has big chapters. This is one of the small ones that held people together.