Yesterday, our dear friend Cassie lost her grandmother, Ms. Joy Camp, at the age of 88. For those who knew her, Ms. Camp wasn’t just a presence—she was a quiet light. She gave generously, welcomed warmly, and lived with a grace that didn’t seek attention but left a lasting impression.

Cassie and her family have always been like family to us. Through her, we came to know and love Ms. Camp.

One of my most vivid memories of Ms. Camp is from Thanksgiving Day, 2012. Our daughter, Julie, had just been born on November 12th—too young to travel to be with our families over long distances. Ms. Camp opened her home to us without hesitation. That day, her table became our table. Her kindness became our comfort. It was one of those rare moments where someone’s generosity quietly brightens your life.

We shared other meals at her house—Easter lunch one year, casual visits, and the annual Fall Get-Together hosted by Cassie’s father next door. There was always a bonfire, a hayride, and Ms. Camp helping behind the scenes, making sure everything felt just right. I also remember watching Alabama and Michigan play college football in the Rose Bowl at her house once. Cassie was a Michigan fan, while Jennifer was an Alabama fan. She didn’t need to be the center of attention—she simply made sure everyone else felt seen. 

One moment that still makes me smile: running into her at Walgreens right next to the bank, just before Valentine’s Day one year. She was picking out gifts for Cade and Haddon, Cassie’s boys. That moment said everything about her—thoughtful, intentional, always giving.

For many years, Ms. Camp worked at Northwest Georgia Bank as the secretary to the bank president before it became FirstBank. I’d see her there sometimes—always composed, always gracious. She was part of the fabric of Ringgold—steady, familiar, kind.

I never had the chance to meet her husband, Cassie’s grandfather, who passed away before we ever knew Cassie. But I imagine he would have been proud of the life she lived and the love she gave.

Ms. Camp wasn’t loud about her legacy—but it echoes in the lives she touched. In Cassie’s strength. In Cade and Haddon’s memories. In the memories we carry from her table, and her quiet acts of care.

We’ll miss her. But we’ll carry her with us—in stories, in traditions, and in the way we give to others, just as she once did for us.

Thank you, Ms. Camp. You gave us more than meals—you gave us belonging.