Tag Archives: memories

December 27, 2019 THE AFTERGLOW

29 Sunday Dec 2019

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Morning sun has turned to overcast skies. The dishwasher consumes the remains of another meal made from our Christmas Day dinner. I sit down with my forgotten friend to type out my thoughts which come and go as quickly as the holiday activities. I have a mug of warmed wassail with a serving of cream cheese and habanero pepper jelly on Nut-thins. The pepper jelly was one of many gifts brought in this week by loved ones, and reminds me that though they have gone on their ways, their sweet presence and memories stayed on to warm me through my winter days.

As if six nights and days were not a more than generous sharing of her time, I may have tried to guilt our daughter into staying just one more night…to do one more day of leisure, or shop, or nothing…just to revel in the blessing of family. Though our son had just driven out to help us delete some of the many leftovers, visited and saw his sister off, I still tried bribing him to come back out and spend Friday evening with games and appetizers…oh the tactics of a mother about to be left in the wake of a blessed and busy Christmas week!

The house is quiet, Auggie wants a nap, husband is back to routine business, and the forgotten Christmas pickle hangs on a new limb of the tree. 20191227_093757
An over-looked trash bag stuffed with torn wrapping paper hangs from the back of a rocking chair, and the refrigerator bulges yet with left-overs! I have a closet full of gifts to sort and put away for husband and me; granddog hair to vacuum and bedding to change. There is a lonely glow of the tree lights reflected on the floor now uncovered and bare where there were piled gifts of love and generosity from and to our family and friends. A similar glow is in my heart reflecting the precious smiles of great-nieces and nephews, img_0444

the shrieks of laughter as we played Santa Auction among the adults and the contented sighs after the meal; a meal that followed my brother-in-law’s prayer of gratitude for bountiful blessings and family time, and mostly for the Christ child whom we try to honor as we give, and serve, and love, and pray and encourage one another.

Before I know it, the ground will be warming and planting season will be here from which I will hope to reap fresh produce and see productive crops for our farmers. Likewise, may the good deeds done and the love given this season, reap much happiness and closer ties that last the whole year through.

Come to think of it, Auggie has the right idea – it is about time for a nap! Until next Christmas season, I ask Father God to bless our home, community and country with the peace that I feel down deep in my soul at this time. I will be praying especially for those who did not have all their family with them, and for those who, sadly, feel far from prayer.  Bless the name of God, the giver of all perfect gifts, the Father of Light as we rest in Him to bear our disappointments and pain; knowing that His balm and peace are eternal, and perfect.

Have a truly happy, healthy and peaceful new year!

“Every good and perfect gift is from above, coming down from the Father of the heavenly lights, who does not change like shifting shadows.”  James 1:17

Saying Goodbye to Ewing Stubblefield

27 Sunday Oct 2019

Posted by in Celebrating, Faith, Family

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Any day I get to see my dear friend is a happy day, but today was a happy and sad  occasion to see her. Linda Pugh and her family were here for her father’s funeral, and I knew before they concluded the touching service that this would be an evening of writing for me.

Listening to Ronny Stubblefield deliver a portion of his dad’s eulogy, I felt unexpected tears begin to gather; not sad tears, but sympathetic ones for a family saying farewell to their daddy, and from a sort of recognition that I didn’t anticipate. I say unexpected because this was the celebration of a life well lived; 90 years of life and those years lived with full expectation of eternal life with his Lord hereafter. Also, I thought I really didn’t know Ewing Stubblefield very well, even though his daughter is one of my dearest friends. Linda and I were roommates at Freed-Hardeman College our first semester away from home. I began to know her family through her voice, and today as the three children and several grandchildren conducted Mr. Stubblefield’s funeral, I realized that I did know him better than I thought.

I knew something of Ewing Stubblefield for one thing, through the strength he passed on to his daughter. His quiet and gentle spirit as well, lives in his children. Also, because of the dedicated way he had worked to be sure his children attended college, I knew him as a lover of education and reading even before his sons Terry and Ronny spoke of that today.  Their college degrees fulfilled the dream of a hard working farmer/factory-worker/preacher who never had the opportunity himself to go beyond high school.  Every time I visited his assisted living apartment, he had an open book in his hands, pictures of family everywhere, and even with dementia setting in, he was the most courteous gentleman! So, I knew of his love and respect for family and friends. Many moons ago I had attended church services with Linda, and her daddy was the preacher; I knew he loved the word of God. I also knew that he had a distaste for denim overalls – now I know that included jeans as well. It’s a generational thing I think.

As I looked over the family area of benches today, there were many brown eyes, dark hair, and tall ‘straight’ statures, (as my Grandma used to say of those with good posture), all carrying the genetic traits of Ewing Stubblefield. I have a feeling that what mattered more to Mr Stubblefield though, was that he passed to his descendants the torch for God’s word; that they were continuing his legacy of strong but gentle people, proponents of education, and loving family in their own way. Terry mentioned that his dad didn’t express love and affection so much; men of his generation generally didn’t, but oh my how he lived it! If a kid from Lynn Grove could visit New Providence a few times, go to school with the man’s daughter, and observe from outside his circle that he was a strong, dedicated man full of love and devotion, then he absolutely lived it.

What a blessing when a family can be gathered around their father and watch as he breathes his last breath from that tired and temporal body, being transformed as Paul states in Philippians chapter 3:

20 For our citizenship is in heaven, from which we also eagerly wait for the Savior, the Lord Jesus Christ, 21 who will transform our lowly body that it may be conformed to His glorious body, according to the working by which He is able even to subdue all things to Himself. (NKJV)

Whether you read this as being in His glorious body, the church, or as becoming a glorious spiritual body as Christ is now, there is clearly the thrilling knowledge that for God’s children, leaving this earth is the beginning of a wonderfulness we can only imagine. Oh happy day!

I Remember

12 Sunday May 2019

Posted by in Reflections

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20190511_205124The cemetery was as silent yesterday as the gray drizzle hanging in the air. My daughter and I had come to place new flowers on my mother’s grave and to honor her with a moment of silence, standing over the plaque bearing her name. I did not cry over it as I knew she, herself, was not there, but in perfect peace, somewhere else; paradise some of us call it. I was able to feel immense gratitude for the life she lived, and for the time it was shared with us. We left the gloom just one purple bouquet brighter, and a mist in my eyes only because I would have loved to tell her once again that I love her. I wouldn’t wish here back here with all the bumps and bruises of this life.

The real tears I shed yesterday were for a friend I ran into, who is spending her first Mother’s Day without her beautiful daughter. I thought about all those who would awaken today without that one who was in their lives all too briefly. You who have lost children are in my heart today. I know you don’t need to be reminded that this is not what we call natural – to have children go on before you. No, but I believe you do need to know you are thought of, loved and appreciated for the strength you have gained on your journey. While I don’t pretend to understand, I offer my silent nod to your loss, your strength, and my sincere wishes for fulfillment, blessings and peace.

I remember you, I remember your loved one. Perhaps we had children in elementary school together. I may have met you recently; or may have known you most of my life. Maybe I worked with you when your world stood still;  or stood beside you as you said goodbye to your stillborn. It may be that I worship beside you, adoring the God Who blessed us with children. I may have stood in line one day with some comment or complaint that made you want to shake me. All your names, as many as I can remember, walk through my heart of prayer every week. My wish for you is to know that your children, no matter their age, are with the most loving Father we can imagine, Who loves them more than we can, ourselves. And there is a third grade teacher somewhere in the bliss they are now living, who would do anything in the world for a child if it were the Lord’s will to allow her to do so.

Happy Mother’s Day to you, and to my Mama, and to all women, who stand as role models in the world.

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making Mother’s Day memories, My daughter and me.

 

 

NICE DAY, Part 4: Angry Words Do Not Make Nice Days!

06 Monday May 2019

Posted by in Children, MONDAY MUSINGS, Reflections

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I think the first child’s antics are more surprising because young parents have no idea! No. Idea. At that stage, we haven’t even counted as high as the number of emotions, trials, and tests we’re about to encounter. Everything your first baby says and does is amazing and funny because, hey, you haven’t heard it before. And no matter how many others do the same things, you still laugh, because it really is funny! I never get tired of remembering ours, and hearing about others’ memories as well. While remembering the cute things kids have done and said is heart warming and good, I wonder if I am the only one who may once in a while, find those memories followed by an unpleasantness that doesn’t belong there. I’ll explain later.

Our son was our first born, surprising us one evening with an early labor, in breech position, arriving at 9:20 PM. He has been a late nighter ever since, and a late riser as well, so the sun was always up before he was. Even still, the bed and breakfast were about all he wanted of the house. As soon as he was tall enough to see out the window, he checked the weather first, and then would report to me, “It’s a shine-shiny day out, Mama!” Interpretation: I want to go outside. See, what this kid knew was that the indirect approach worked so much better that the direct. A bedtime fighter, he found any excuse he could to resist bedtime routine. I had to pin him to the floor to brush his teeth, while he sputtered, “But my lips are reflexive!”, followed by “I wanna watch Gonny Cawson (Johnny Carson)! As if! When he wanted to go fishing a few years later,  rather than beg to go, he tied a construction paper fish to a stick and held it out the door as I was coming inside. Written on it was “I got an itchin’ to go fishin’!” Sly little dude. Next came fifth grade, with Mrs. Pittman’s rule of  ‘no locker opens after class starts’…did I mention he procrastinated other things as well as bedtime? To see Dora Pittman tell this is quite funny, as she slides one arm slowly back, leaning ever so slyly toward an imaginary locker to retrieve a book that should have been out of there before the bell rang! Some 30 years later, she still calls him her ‘locker boy’.

Yes, memories are fun…but sometimes it gets painful. There’s a little black-caped masked demon about an inch tall that occasionally comes slinking into the picture of a good memory, and it’s name is Regret. I hate that imp! He messes with my mind, and if I give him any attention, he starts growing until he is bigger than the picture. That’s the unpleasantness I was referring to earlier. I’m guessing there is a trigger for almost anyone to be reminded of their failures, for we all have some sort of regrets I’ve been told. For me, the trigger is remembering my kids’ childhood which makes me ask, why is such an awesome responsibility placed into the hands of the inexperienced?? Now, I know most of you were nauseatingly good, patient, creative parents; I mistakenly thought I was at the time. Let me just cut through the chase and bare my blisters: CHILDREN WERE NOT MADE TO BE YELLED AT. There. That is my regret. I grasped at the details and missed the big beautiful picture. Math problems, tooth brushing and choosing which toy to take, should never be a source of pain or anxiety. These everyday life things can create havoc, or heaven. The things that we think must be done should never override patience and gentleness. I was given the most precious gifts on earth, and I let them and the Giver down when I lost control and yelled. Mamas and Daddies, no one else would tolerate our ill tempered yelling, so why dish it out on the very ones who love and trust us to be their Rock? Seriously, they need more good memories, not more math; calm evenings more than clean teeth; and the time it took to choose which truck to take with him could have been spent planning supper, or tickling him into a decision. I wonder how many times he was about to make a choice when I again, called “would you come on now!” Oh how that dastardly bandit Regret can run off with your fun! But, God is good, and has forgiven me. My children say there’s nothing to forgive or forget; they say they had a great childhood. The problem lies within where forgiveness does not come easily for ourselves. I’m working on it, but I still hate those angry words that messed up good days.

“If a person thinks himself to be religious and does not bridle his own tongue, but deceives his own heart, his religion is useless.” (James 1:26)

Lest I leave the impression that I was a total monster, I do have a memory of handling things well. This son of ours has an artist streak in him that was once used on the refrigerator, in crayon. I actually had a roll of film in the Kodak, and it makes a cute photo when a toddler is cleaning the refrigerator in his training pants. I think he was as proud of his job of removing the masterpiece as he was of making it.

cleaning up artwork
sneaking M&Ms

Happy Monday, stay calm, and make it a nice day! Go ahead and sneak a few M&Ms:)

 

 

 

NICE DAY Part 2: Umbrellas and Flashlights – Up In the Basement

08 Monday Apr 2019

Posted by in Children, MONDAY MUSINGS

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Umbrella Girl

 

On this rainy day, I am reminded of my little Umbrella Girl. My brother had brought his wife and 2 yr old daughter back from North Carolina, where they lived while he was in active duty with our United States Marines. Trying to get settled into our grandparents’ old home in Jones’ Mill, TN and start a farming operation, didn’t leave a great deal of time right then to play with a tot like their inquisitive Sara. One pretty day Aunt Trisha drove down to take that little golden-haired girl home to play. We hadn’t had a toddler in our family in a while so I’d about forgotten how sharp their little minds are. About five minutes out of the driveway, an unexpected spattering of raindrops fell onto the windshield. I must have said something like “would you look at that?” Sara, sitting in the front seat (no there wasn’t a whole lot of concern 26 years ago about car seats) with her little legs straight out in front of her, cast those big eyes up at me and said in a most grown-up way, “And ya haven’t gotcha umbrella!” Exactly right. I did not carry an umbrella for unexpected showers. How did she know? I have, since then, carried a small umbrella in the front glove compartment. There have been several “cloud bursts” in life, some for which I was not prepared; I have since then carried in a compartment of my heart, encouragement from God’s Word, to cover and protect. “And we know that all things work together for good to those who love God, to those who are the called according to His purpose.” (Romans 8:28 NKJV)  Yep! We may not see it coming, but God sees all, and knows those who love and trust Him, and He will take our storms and make them work for our good. We have God’s Word on it; that’s our umbrella.

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Flashlight Sisters

Another story of being prepared was spurred by a sweet conversation between my two great nieces about five years ago.  If you have read my January 11, 2014 post titled “The Cream in My Coffee: A Tale of Two Sisters, then you know this story. The girls were overheard by their grandparents discussing their order of birth. The older, Katja, had told her little sister, Isabella, that after she had been “cut out of Mommy’s belly” the younger had later been placed there and was born, having in the meantime been in “God’s imagination”. (Be still my heart!) This did not set well with little Isabella! With a quivering voice she replied that “it was dark in Mommy’s belly” and that she should have been given a flashlight! It was her opinion that they should have been there together in the first place, to prevent her from feeling afraid. We can rest assured however, that being in the mind of God with His plans for us, we do not need a flashlight. David wrote, “The Lord is my light and my salvation; whom shall I fear?…” (Psalm 27:1)

Kids really do say the funniest things; they are so honest and open. They aren’t concerned with being politically correct; pulling no punches, they want us to understand them in no uncertain terms. Little Micah Simons was proof of that this morning in the church nursery. She told us “No” several times when offered the wrong book or toy – she wasn’t letting anything get in the way of her own agenda! I loved watching her take care of her doll on her own terms! But sometimes they get their terms a bit mixed up. Alan is my brother’s third child, and could say some of the cutest things, most of which didn’t make a lot of sense, but gave us so much fun!

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Making funny faces.

I recall at age four (which by the way, is the BEST age for conversation) he sat with me on our front porch and asked life questions, like “just what is a ‘hickernut’ Aunt Trisha”, and “how will we bust ‘um?” and “why are they on the ground?” Alan is still trying to get this life thing figured out, like we all had to, so what I recall him saying later that day fits him perfectly. We had just moved into our new house, and he and sister Emily were visiting. I showed them the attic, complete with some really great toys left over from my kids’ childhood. The day being a nice autumn temperature, they had some time to play up there. Later, he asked me if he could go “up in the basement” to play again. We never had a basement, nor had one been mentioned.  He’d heard that somewhere else, and put it with anywhere other than ground level. Up or down. Life for most young adults is up and down; it’s confusing to say the least. I wouldn’t go back and do it again, would you? I pray daily for the youth of our family, friends and church. Sometimes life is a real kick in the pants and I long for them to know the Warrior who will lead them through their battles and fight for them like no-one else ever could. Will you bow down with me, to look up, and plead on their behalf? “Oh our God…we have no power to face this vast army that is attacking us. We do not know what to do, but our eyes are upon you.” (II Chronicles 20:12 NIV) Help them Lord, to know up from down, right from wrong, and how to speak up for themselves through Your power. In Jesus’ name, amen.

You know, the fact that they can’t always tell us what they want, or that we don’t always listen, doesn’t stop them. Thank God that He made them persistent. I can learn from that; I can keep trying, praying, listening to God for His answers, and never give up. Keep asking questions, like Alan did that day, which is how we learn at any age. Oh, if we could just be like those little children – open, honest, inquisitive without judging – and take each day as an adventure! Most of us will admit we’ve been about as deep in the basement as we can be sin-wise; but thanks be to God, we can still be UP – up in HIs arms, under His umbrella, in His light. Have a Nice Day!!

(Part 3 in two weeks: Sweet Things Make Nice Days! Perhaps if I am brave enough a Part 4 will emerge. It’s title will no doubt be “Angry Words Do Not Make Nice Days”.)

NICE DAY!

25 Monday Mar 2019

Posted by in Children, MONDAY MUSINGS

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“CHILDREN ARE A BLESSING AND A GIFT FROM THE LORD.” (PSALM 127:3) CEV

I used to think that verse meant one’s own children, but after watching a couple of generations growing up, I realize it is certainly not a blessing exclusive to the parents. Littles of our friends and relatives, or even a toothless smile from a shopping cart at a much-needed time, can just MAKE. YOUR. DAY!! Right?

As much as I feel “nearer to God in a garden”, I know where you really can get as close to the heart of God as anywhere this side of Heaven – sitting with a three or four-year old!

Three year old Grayson, one of my great nephews, found Spring peeking into the back door of Winter, and able to go outside after a nasty round of influenza A, was observed enjoying his own blessing. Kids are the best at observation and appreciating!! At three and a half now, he is so old and accountable that he is allowed to go into their fenced backyard by himself. Last week his daddy shared with me what his neighbor observed as the door slid shut between Grayson and his grownups. He said the boy looked each way, taking it all in, then proclaimed in as manly a voice as possible, “Nice Day!” Knowing a thing or two about this little guy, I wrote the following for Grayson.

GRAYSON

As in any good family yard, we have many things to do. There’s mud for playing, and a dog, uh-oh, what’s on my shoe? Toys, a trampoline, a slide and swing set; I can’t wait to play ball, but it’s not summer yet. The neighbor is grilling, but I am not. Dad said we’d play – I think he forgot. No flowers yet to pick, nor grass for bare feet, but with that bright sunshine, life is sure sweet! A look to the left and a look to the right, I breathe in the air and I feel alright! Not a worry in my pocket, just one thing to say, with a nod to my neighbor, I shout, “NICE DAY!”

Yes, children are a blessing for a number of reasons. They ground us, in more ways than one! Getting my head out of the air and back down to basics is one of the best reasons for being around them. God said “…But to do justly, to love mercy, and to walk humbly with your God” (Micah 6:8b) Who is more honest than a three or four-year-old? Who  needs more mercy than a little child? Humility – oh my, they are the best at that! They have no other choice, being so dependent on all of us. They are the best reminders of how God wants us to be.

Then Jesus called a little child to Him, set him in the midst of them and said, “Assuredly, I say to you, unless you are converted and become as little children, you will by no means enter the kingdom of heaven. Therefore, whoever humbles himself as this little child is the greatest in the kingdom of heaven”. (Matthew 18:3-4) NKJV

Part 2 of  “Nice Day” is taking form already as I recall several other touching or funny ways our “Littles” have blessed us.  They really do say the funniest things! So, bye for now, I hope your Monday is going just right! See you back here in two weeks, with a few quotes from Katja, Isabella, Alan, Sara, and more!

 

 

WHERE DOES THE NEW YEAR FIND YOU?

01 Tuesday Jan 2019

Posted by in Life, Reflections

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Ten fifteen P.M. on New Year’s Eve my date and I have finished a silly movie where Adam Sandler’s character babysits his niece and nephew and they sort of live out the bedtime stories they make up the night before. We have had our tray of cheese, crackers and olives, drank our Diet Coke, and I added on a brownie topped off by a cup of Christmas Wassail. Just the two of us. And our Yorkie. Oh so different from the New Year’s Eves of the past!

Looking back in time, mid 70’s I see us newly wed couples all getting together to bring in the new year. Well, usually we were home by midnight, but it was so much fun! Whether at the Murdock’s, the Doron’s, or others, we had a great group of friends for laughter, games, and food! I learned back then how to make the REAL chex mix, thanks to Debbie Rogers Doron. And Mississippi Mud cake, thanks to Becky Burkeen Nance. I think I usually took peanut butter balls, dipped in chocolate; yep, always love my chocolate! Especially Hazel Carson Morton’s brownies!

After that decade, we were raising children, juggling debts, and working. And working. And working. Sounds like a stuck record? It felt like one too. New Year wishes were a bit more solemn for some of us; we began to be distanced from our friends of younger years. However, I was blessed with the sweetest kids I could have ever imagined having, as well as a fun-loving mother, so new years eve parties were always about family. I recall hubby and I hosting one year when my brother’s wife was expecting their first child. He was serving with the Marines in Desert Storm, and Julie, his wife, was staying with Mama. Julie really enjoyed the food I served, so her abdominal discomfort was at first thought to be the result of my food. The birth of my niece on New Year’s Day proved that theory incorrect!

The 90’s started out no better in the work realm, but by mid decade I had earned my BSN, and began working as an RN so my husband began to feel a bit more relaxed in the bread-winner chair. Still, with my schedule, and our having been out of the socializing habit for so long, we just never again had a group of friends where we felt that ‘couples camaraderie’. That’s probably true for many families; but on New Year’s Eve, I missed the festivities. I grew up in a house where the midnight hour was celebrated, even if my parents were away from home and we were with a babysitter, so I guess the notion carried over. Anyway, other than a few years when the kids and I were part of a church’s food and games evening, we were at home. I recall dropping by Mama’s one year on the afternoon of New Year’s Eve, and her house was decorated so beautifully complete with candles and wonderful refreshments. She was prepared for her ‘girls’ to come over for games and laughs. Those ladies hold important places in my heart. Barbara Ramsey, Jean Bird, Betty Hassell, Frances Hargrove, all such loved friends of my mother’s. I don’t know who all came that night to help her celebrate another year, but those four were almost always in the mix.

Turn of the century! New Year’s Eve 1999, my sister Kathy invited us to her and her husband’s party! We had little plastic ‘champagne glasses’ with sparkling grape juice, some assortment of noise makers and I happily watched a new century drape the calendar in the midst of good people and good fun! Nineteen years later, I am happier than I ever believed I could be, without a party, without noise makers, at home. Just the two of us. Happy NYE texts to our loved ones, from the safety and warmth of our own home, be it ever so humble. By the way, do you younger ones see how fast another decade passed in this paragraph? Well, that’s life. Faster than a speeding bullet!

Forty five years of marriage has seen many changes, good times and not so good times, like most folks. But for the life of me, I can’t think of one bad thing that overrides the joy of watching our kids grow up; working side by side to pay for our home and farm; celebrating our loved ones’ accomplishments and learning daily to praise God together for every day of every year. I guess all that work was good for me; my doctor tells me every year how healthy I am in spite of a few (well several) pounds over weight and arthritis. My ‘unparty’ hubby is right beside me about to fall asleep, and always has been. Our empty nest holds no grandchildren, but we have the sweetest dog in the world that was dropped right into my lap by a couple of high school friends. (Thanks again Janie Hughes Guizlo and Gwen Russell Hymer!) And both our kids are exceptionally attentive to our well-being; but that’s mutual of course!

Ten minutes before midnight now, and I didn’t know where this was going when I sat down to write, or even if I would post it. I think maybe that the movie we watched tonight has a faint connection – our lives are somewhat played out by the stories we tell ourselves. We may not know exactly what we are asking for when we make our plans, but for my life anyway, there seems to have been a master storyteller, (thank you God) watching and listening, knowing where my heart was and here I am. There really is no place like home! Happy New Year Friends!

 

 

PRECIOUS MEMORIES

09 Sunday Dec 2018

Posted by in Life, Reflections

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I sat on the couch holding an old boot box full of smaller boxes and precious ornaments for our Christmas tree. Among those were three small white crocheted ornaments – two snowflakes and a stocking – made by my Aunt Sue who is no longer with us;  a flat round ceramic picture of Mama given to me by my sister Kathy the year our mother passed away;  and 13 precious Hallmark Keepsake ornaments given to me by Tiffany Shemwell, (now Clayton) one at a time every year that she was in school, kindergarten through 12th grade. Of course, Tiffany’s mom, Terese had to have started the tradition for her sweet daughter, but as Tiffany grew, so did my pleasure at seeing what her selection each year would be. Just like Tiffany, each one was unique, usually dainty, and adorable! The tradition began because I drove Tiffany to school and home again on a big yellow school bus. I only drove nine years after which, I was in nursing school, and then working as a nurse, but the little Christmas surprises continued to show up on my front porch until she graduated from high school. Five of the last six were little nurse animals – a mouse with a stethoscope, a koala with a hot water bottle, and so on.

Sitting there with our tree partially decorated, I found it difficult to begin opening the cherished Hallmark boxes. You see, tomorrow will be Tiffany’s funeral. Having fought a long battle with brain cancer never took the sweetness and sparkle out of that little girl! All who knew her were impressed with her bravery, as well as devastated that she and her family were being harassed with the cruelty of this disease, not once but twice. Now at 35 years old, she won’t have to fight that battle any longer. So, it just didn’t feel right to be opening and enjoying these memories while being so sad about her passing. However, through tears, I began to realize that Tiffany would be so sad if I didn’t enjoy them as I have every year and so I finally found my way to opening and hanging Tiffany’s ornaments. Gingerly I opened each box, imagined what she may have liked about each one, and gave them their usual prominent positions on the branches. I always save the last one for last, and reread the note that she included with it. This one is a little blond angel named Marguerite, holding a rabbit, and was 13th in the Mary’s Angel Series. It was also the 13th year of Tiffany’s ornaments, though the only angel from her, as well as the first time in those last 6 years that she didn’t select a nurse, but an angel. On the box is stamped the following:

“Bunny thinks it’s awfully sweet to snuggle up to Marguerite. They drift around the Christmas sky and watch the angels flying by.”   I’ll let you roll that around in your own heart, just as I am wondering how much intuition a 17 or 18-year-old would have.

Even better, is what Tiffany wrote to me on the gift tag she attached to it.  I share it now as just one more testament to how sweet and thoughtful she was. Precious memories!!

Merry Christmas Ms. Ward! This is the last one to complete your set, since I graduate this year. May they all bring you lots of joy every Christmas season. Love you lots, Tiffany

TC, OUR FEARLESS LEADER

02 Sunday Sep 2018

Posted by in Life, Reflections

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“Oh, well, it’s gonna be all right…” with a shrug of his shoulders, and a dynamite grin; then he would proclaim “God is good, all the time; all the time, God is good!” A word or two with some airport staff member, and in his easy way, our fearless leader made it all right, again. Perhaps if I could just have one more of his hugs this too would be all right. The last time I saw him was at church – was it just two weeks ago? He was at the welcome center and as I came through the front door, he turned, grinned and waved. Why oh why didn’t I go on over to him for that one last shoulder squeeze? I may have thought he would always be here; he had already endured so much! So I hope you will understand as I add one more tribute to our sweet brother in Christ.

I met Tommy’s reputation and heart before I met Tommy. A sure and strong influence on my brother-in-law becoming a Christian, I saw how he and my little sister were loved into fellowship with Christ. Tommy and his “Peg” opened their home too many times to count and taught a fellowship and love for others that will always be remembered. His “Simper Fi” (“young married who aren’t so young anymore but wouldn’t leave their teacher” class) and his fellow mission team members were just some of those blessed by that home. Thomas Carraway; TC as he was nicknamed; friend, brother, Christ follower, many have repeated his name and his well-known quote since Friday. August 31, 2018, a day Tommy knew was coming and was well prepared for, he breathed his last labored breath, and passed into peace. I know a little part of many many hearts went with him. All the wonderful comments and tears among friends and family encircle his memory like a wreath, and like a cushion, makes our pain of loss more bearable. Some lives leave a footprint; some leave a crater.

Sitting near Tommy in worship services, we witnessed his warmth and his completely unpretentious way of letting others know he cared. From his dear friend who never had to sit alone in church after losing her husband, to the hundreds, no, thousands of Guyanese lives touched by Tommy’s love for sharing God’s love, many walk closer to Jesus than we would have without Tommy. My sister and I first began our Guyana missions together, under the leadership of our Tommy. After we returned from the first of those medical missions, Tommy confessed to me that he had predicted I might be “kinda needy” but trusted it to work out. He was happy to say he had been wrong, and encouraged me to keep going back; best of all, he always thanked us for loving the people of Guyana. What a Leader! It has been shared with me that on several onsets of mission trips, knowing his health wasn’t the best, Tommy said that he would be perfectly happy to die right there in Guyana, doing what he loved. Fearless! Tommy put others first – just ask a rookie mission team member – he loaned her his prized Reba t-shirt when her luggage didn’t make it to Guyana with us! Selfless! Little samples of the big love he lived.

So many of us are better people for having known Tommy Carraway, because he wanted us to know Jesus. And what I think he would want us to do now, is to go out and live every day in such a way that those around you can see that you live what you believe – and that is that God and His love are absolutely enough!

“I have fought the good fight, I have finished the race, I have kept the faith.” 2 Timothy 4:7 NKJV

THIS DAUGHTER’S DADDY

16 Saturday Jun 2018

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I never called my daddy by the more popular ‘dad,’ nor the formal ‘father’. Dad was someone who belonged to my more sophisticated friends; and Father was the one to whom I prayed, the father in Heaven. No, only one name for my daddy – Daddy.

I was born on his 20th birthday, his first child and the apple of his eye I’ve heard, for four and one half years. That’s when his second daughter, a little cherub, was born along with a cradle of other changes in life. But for almost five years, he was all mine, lunch box and all! They say the first few years of a child’s life sets a pattern for giving and accepting love, among other attitudes. After that, we set about real soon trying to abolish every rule, change every ideal, and break every parent’s heart. But for those glorious preschool years, daddies and daughters are pretty tight. In most cases, certainly in mine, all those attempts to become ‘my own’ self of the 1960s and 70s were for nothing. The roots were already down. Deep. In my heart.

Because of my daddy, I still love the smell of wax paper in the lunch box. I happily anticipated his return home after work because I knew I would find a little gem of something left for me in his lunch box.

Because of my daddy, I like the smell of a gasoline engine and oily tools in a garage. I used to line up old spark plugs, nuts and bolts and tools along the wall of the dirt floor garage we first had. A strong pair of hands that held my head up when I was sick often had that grease and oil on them. Thanks for washing them first, Daddy.

Because of my daddy, and my maternal Grandpa, I love the smell of Old Spice aftershave. They both wore it when I was very young, and wrapped my arms around their necks, and sat on Daddy’s knees in church.

Because of my daddy, I love straight young rows of green in the garden. Later, baskets of produce with various colors washed and arranged like flowers in a vase were brought to the door; I love to do that too.

Because of my daddy, I am crazy about breakfast outdoors, and roadside spots to stop and eat bologna and crackers with a coca-cola. He introduced us to camping, too, or I wouldn’t know that this is not always a desirable thing to do. Thanks for the experience Daddy.

There’s nothing magical about wax paper, or motor oil, Old Spice and gardens. The magic that makes these memories mold us is love. Knowing you are safe and surrounded by acceptance is what every child deserves, just for being brought into this world. I had it, and I drip tears onto the newspaper reports of children who get none of it, and worse. Thank you God for a good daddy. Thank you Daddy for loving me, even when I wasn’t lovable.

Happy Father’s Day, to my Daddy, and all the other great dads, grandpas and uncles, and my brother, too! I love you guys!