Journeys With Jani

We called her Chubby.

Now before you start picturing a round little Southern granny, let me clarify—my paternal grandmother never had a chubby day in her life. The nickname came before I was born and my Paw would make sure it stuck! Ha!

Chubby was Southern elegance personified. If you plucked a woman off the pages of a Ralph Lauren catalog, dusted her with a touch of sass, and gave her a backbone forged from steel and grace—you’d have my grandmother. Her platinum blonde hair, thick and coarse, was always pulled back neatly as she aged. And even on her worst day, she looked like she belonged on a front porch sipping sweet tea in only the finest—never out of place, always put together.

Her hemline always matched her shoes. Which is impressive, considering she had a mountain of shoes—each pair nearly identical except for the color. She loved Estee Lauder—makeup, perfume, and everything in between. Youth Dew was her signature scent. If you ever walked into her home in Adairsville, you’d know she was near before you ever saw her.

To the folks in our little town, she was “Ms. Aylsworth or Ms. Ruth.” And to be real, some folks thought she was a bit “high and mighty,” as the Southern saying goes. But if you truly knew her, you saw something much deeper. My grandparents were characters—Paw was her “Rooster,” and she was his “Hen” or “Chicken,” I can’t remember. It was like living in a Tennessee Williams play, but with better shoes and less yelling.

One thing I’ll never forget: her long, golden necklace. It had a tiny gold ring on it, and nestled inside that ring was clear resin holding the smallest mustard seed you ever did see. “If you have faith the size of a mustard seed…” And y’all, she did. She truly did. She carried her faith with quiet power, and she wore that necklace like armor. She didn’t need to go on and on. It was just in her.

What Chubby gave me wasn’t just a closet full of fashion goals or a love for Estée Lauder (I’m definitely not). She gave me something far more important—the ability to hold my head high no matter the mess life serves up. When my daddy was arrested, when my grandfather passed away during that same chapter of heartbreak, and even when she lost her youngest daughter a few years later—she kept moving forward. Chin up, eyes ahead, faith intact.

That quiet strength? That fierce grace? I know I got that from her.

Now, I’m a little different. I wear my vulnerability on my sleeve. I cry, I talk, I write. But the getting-back-up part? That’s all Chubby. Every one of us Aylsworth cousins knows it. We joke about all the things we inherited from her—and let’s be honest, the Aylsworth gene runs strong. I see her in my kids too. Even though Jake and Jarrett seem to look nothing alike, they both look (and act) like me, they both carry pieces of her, and now their kids do too. That makes my heart proud in a way I can’t quite put into words.

I miss her. Lord, do I miss her. If I could go back in time, I’d soak up every second. I’d sit with her in that kitchen, watch her apply that Chestnut Estee Lauder lipstick, and maybe borrow a pair of those matching shoes.

But most of all, I’d thank her—for showing me how to walk through life with grace, even when your world feels like it’s falling apart. And for reminding me, without ever saying a word, that sometimes, faith as small as a mustard seed is more than enough.

I hope she looks down from Heaven and will always be proud of us.