Winifred Lula Harrington

Winifred Harrington, affectionately known as Mema to the generations of family who adored her, was born September 16, 1935, in Ashburn, Georgia, to Willie Frank and Elizah Stilwell. Her nearly 91 years were marked by a love so generous and genuine that there always seemed to be room for one more person at her table, in her home, in her heart, and in her family.

Funeral services will be held at 11:00 A.M. on Wednesday, August 19, 2026 at Albritton Funeral Directors with Rev. Glen Ford and Rev. Danny Stilwell officiating. Entombment will follow at Tift Memorial Gardens. The family will receive friends on Tuesday, August 18, 2026 from 5:00 to 7:00 P.M. at Albritton Funeral Directors.

Joshwall Stilwell, David Stilwell, Buck Cushion, Danny Tucker and Chris Stilwell will serve as pallbearers. Honorary pallbearers will be Dr. Danny Ray, Rev. John Sikes Gibbs, Jr., Rev. Chuck Yzenski and Rev. Ike Thomas.

Mema loved. She loved Jesus. She loved her family. And she loved people…all people.

Her faith was not simply something she professed; it was the very source from which she lived. Jesus was woven into the ordinary moments of her days. She sang Southern Gospel songs while she cleaned, hummed hymns while rocking her grandchildren, kept her Bible close, and prayed continually. She made sure “Jesus” was among the first words her children, grandchildren, great-grandchildren, and great-great-grandchildren learned to say. For Mema, faith was not a Sunday activity. It was her life.

She faithfully served alongside her husband and lifelong partner, Rev. E.T. Harrington, who preceded her in death in 2000. Together, they poured themselves into their church and community, devoted to one another and to the work God had placed before them.

Mema was a pillar of her church. She served in children’s ministry, taught Sunday School and Vacation Bible School, participated in Saturday morning visitation, and drove the church bus. When more than 100 children gathered for children’s church, Mema and Papa made sure there was joy waiting for each of them afterward…including the legendary 10-foot banana split.

But her ministry didn’t stop at the church doors. She operated an in-home daycare, opened her heart and home as a foster parent, and never seemed to meet a person she couldn’t find something good in. She could look at someone society had written off—a person struggling with addiction, someone with a criminal past, someone experiencing homelessness—and see the good that was still there. She did not define people by their worst moments. She loved them where they were and refused to give up on them.

If she needed help around her house, she would hire men from the local homeless shelter, get to know them, and sometimes even make room for them in her home. She had an extraordinary ability to see people not for what they had been, but for who they could be.

She was fiercely independent. She preferred to drive herself, paint her own walls, lay her own floors, and generally prove that if something needed doing, she could probably do it herself. She had a particular fondness for thrift stores and a slight shopping addiction that resulted in wonderfully random Christmas gifts only she knew the meaning of…but they provided plenty of laughs and memories.

And Christmas was no small occasion in Mema’s house. She loved it and decorated accordingly, making sure the season looked and felt joyful for everyone who passed her way. From the lights outside to the decor inside, everything had to be perfectly over the top.

She was an avid fisherman, fiercely loyal to her “stories,” especially Days of Our Lives, and loved to joke that she was preparing to become a contestant on The Price Is Right AND Wheel of Fortune. She loved to laugh at things children said, enjoyed watching the younger generations act silly, and could always find humor in the people she loved.

Mema did not cuss. But when she became particularly flustered, there was always the possibility of a long, drawn-out “Shhhhhhhh—!” And if that didn’t get her point across, a properly thrown shoe might. Her aim was not always perfect, which occasionally meant an innocent bystander became the unintended target.

She could love you with her whole heart and still ask, “Why are there dishes in my sink?” or “Did you sweep the floor?” And heaven help the grandchild who showed up after skipping church. She believed in loving people, but she also believed in teaching them right from wrong.

Mema’s house was home. The door was always unlocked. You didn’t knock. You simply walked in and heard her familiar voice call out, “C’mon in!” There was almost always the smell of something cooking…especially buttermilk biscuits, buttermilk pancakes, and fat back…always fat back! Grandchildren filled her living room floor during legendary sleepovers, followed by trips to Dairy Queen the next day. And if anyone misbehaved, well…there was a “fly flap” waiting.

She knew every generation of her family. She knew birthdays. She knew personalities. And she had a unique name for nearly everyone, names that somehow made each person feel as though they belonged to a special little world that existed only between them and Mema.

She was a safe place. She could grab you, pull you close, and hold you until the tears stopped. Or she could squeeze you until you were filled with sunshine. She sang Happy Birthday over the phone every year, created family recipes that somehow required no measurements at all, and no matter how old her grandchildren became, her lap never became off-limits.

Mema’s greatest joy was her family. She wanted them together, and they were…often, loudly, sometimes for a reason and sometimes for no reason at all.

The simplest way to describe the life she lived is this:

She loved like Jesus.

She saw good where others saw brokenness. She made room where others might have turned people away. She welcomed the stranger, cared for the hurting, taught the children, loved her family fiercely, and spent a lifetime reminding everyone around her that they were worthy of love.

Her legacy is not simply the number of people who called her Mema. It is the people who learned how to love because she loved them first.

And so, the family she leaves behind will do what she taught them to do. They will keep gathering around tables. They will show up for one another. They will make room for the person who needs it. They will look for the good in people. They will love without keeping score. They will sing the hymns she sang and teach their children about Jesus. They will tell the stories, make the recipes without measurements, laugh about the flying shoes, and probably hear her voice every now and then asking why there are dishes in the sink. They will carry forward the love she spent nearly 91 years giving away. Because Mema didn’t just leave them memories. She left them a way to live. She lit the torch. And they will carry it!

She was preceded in death by her mother and father, Elizah Kennedy Stilwell and W.F. Stilwell; her husband, Earnest Talmadge “E.T.” Harrington; 6 siblings, C.W., Neta Mae Ireland, Clyde, Randolph, Zalene, Andy, 1 grandchild (Marshall).

She is survived by her children, Michael Harrington (Linda), Jacqueline Daughtry, and Bonnie Lockhart (Jackie); grandchildren and their spouses, K.C. Harrington (Kayla), Kristen Exum (Jeff), Chris Albritton, Tiffany McClain (Patrick), Evan Smithwick (Allyssa), Hope Farmer (Guy), Tessa Johnson, Jay Johnson (Karly), Shauna Wiggins (Josh), Justin Daughtrey (Amanda), Katrina Spires (Chris), Tiffiny Watson (Travis), Talayna Fielder (Roger), Talmadge Hill (Cayla), Dillan Harrington (Marilyn), Ella Hilton; 41 great-grandchildren, with one on the way; four great-great-grandchildren; her brothers, Alfred Stilwell and Homer Lovering; and a host of extended family and friends who were blessed to know and love her.

Albritton Funeral Directors is in charge of arrangements