Tag Archives: memories

Margrette Ann

14 Sunday Jun 2020

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Margrette had a beautiful soprano voice as I recall. Occasionally I would be seated in worship services near enough to hear her singing in the spirit. She also used her voice more than a few times to speak her belief that something ought or ought not to be; although, never did I hear her belittle anyone nor speak in any fashion that would have been unbecoming of a lady. Margrette Enoch wore her Christianity in the form of love for her family; cooking for neighbors and visitors (her baked beans with ground beef and brown sugar were my husband’s favorite!); teaching bible stories to youngsters; working side by side with her husband to provide for themselves as well as foster children, mission work and the various functions necessary for a local congregation to do the work commissioned by Christ.

I met Margrette in 1984 when we moved into their community and continued our farming operation there. I feel sure she was the first woman to love on my husband in a way that showed him neighbors are good. Neighbors are kind. Neighbors look out for you. Just being in close proximity does not make a neighbor. “Love thy neighbor” (Matthew 22:39); and who is my neighbor? Anyone who poses an opportunity to provide some kind deed (Luke 10:25-37). We were blessed with friendship and food from her home. We were stewards of their farm land for about 35 years and never heard a complaint nor a grumble. We shared recipes, garden produce (my favorite being her blueberries) and love for a peaceful country life. She made her husband’s old family home into their home for their three boys, in-laws, grandchildren and great grandchildren. Easing  down the long gravel lane from our road to their house always ended with “Hey there! Come in!”

My husband and I both sobbed yesterday morning, June 13, 2020 when we received the news of Margrette’s passing. Tears for our loss; as well as tears for time we’ve lost on things that just won’t matter in the long run. Although Margrette was 80 years of age, she was so steadfast in her life that even her use of a walker hadn’t prepared us for the extent of her failing health. Margrette did not need fancy clothes, cars nor an exquisite house to love and be loved. She did what she could for others and built a quiet legacy of service.

I spent the day outside processing the news as well as all else that’s going on in our world lately. No matter what I did near the nests of our resident wrens, they kept singing and singing; beautifully doing what God created them to do. These small brown birds hide very well in our Washington Hawthorn tree, but I knew they were there by their song. Like Margrette,  doing what she was created to do, usually unseen, and singing her song of friendship for us and her Lord.  I  will miss you Margrette Ann Enoch.

selective focus photo of house wren perched on white birdhouse

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Dear Mama

10 Sunday May 2020

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Another Mother’s Day has arrived; the sun envelopes the morning, whose stillness is only broken by the song of birds. “This is the day that the Lord has made; we will rejoice and be glad in it!” (Psalm 118:24)  Of all the blessings God has given me, you, dear Mama, are at the top of my favorites list, just behind Jesus and that is exactly as you would have it, for He made all this possible. No, you couldn’t walk on water, but there was a time in my life when I just about thought you could! Thank you for instilling in me a faith in God, by keeping it alive at a level young eyes could see, at a depth mature eyes can reach.  “Her children rise up and call her blessed…” (Proverbs 31:28a) And through her, they learn to see Him.

I had a surprise visit from my sister last evening, ending the day with good memories, and looking forward to today without feeling “socially distanced” at all. Before turning out the light, I wanted to tell Mama about our visit.

Dear Mama, Thank you for bringing home a little sister to me back in 1958. For the first 15 years I only saw our differences and it must have been hard for you to wait. Knowing we were cut from the same pattern, but of different pieces of cloth; you knew we’d figure it out and find the sister in each of our hearts. We still sit and talk about you like you  never went away, and come to think about it, you’re more present everyday. You’re woven through the tapestry of our lives, I know it’s true, for the things you cared so much about, I find living with us too. Your expressions and excitement live on in your second child; and your passion for teaching, your quick wit and smile. What she sees of you in me, I really couldn’t say, but I see you in the mirror every single day! Your love for birds and flowers, gardens and sweets – we share those too. A little wren sings every morning – I think she sings of you. Our hearts first beat beneath your own; three hearts you birthed and took us home. Protected, encouraged, pampered us all, and covered life’s booboos with laughter. Thank you for putting so much of yourself into us, that we would find some part of you in each other, ever after. Love, Trisha

To those boys and girls who did not find your life so encased in a mother’s love and guidance as I did, I pray you will find in your memory the hands and face of someone who did work that magic of training up a child, of holding your hand and being a mom-figure for you. May I assure you also, that you had another. Though you may not have known, my mother tried to be the best friend, teacher and guide to you, to all children, young and old, as she could be. So many faces and names come before me now who were in Mama’s heart and prayers.

Happy Mother’s Day to all women who have carried the thought of another within their heart.

 

Easter Thoughts

12 Sunday Apr 2020

Posted by in Faith, inspiration, Uncategorized

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My thoughts have whirled about in my mind this weekend like little Maple tree wings caught in the wind. Like everyone, I’m adjusting to new firsts. The year has had a strange beginning, from climate to Covid; demanding a new norm.

MINOLTA DIGITAL CAMERA Dreary describes the weather today, Easter Sunday, with another cold Kentucky rain. Memories flit through my mind of sunny breezy days with young children running through grassy tufts, peering into shrubs and up the downspouts. Baskets of brightly colored eggs swing on their arms;  plastic eggs with coins or jelly beans rattling inside, some hard boiled eggs dyed and decorated the day before and some cellophane-wrapped marshmallows. I never have understood the connection between egg-laying rabbits and the resurrection of Christ. Nor do I get the connection between baby chicks that were dyed pastel colors and curly paper grass in a basket. Still, I did all of it. From brand new patent leather shoes to a pair of white gloves, my memories run strong in the wake of Easters gone by. MINOLTA DIGITAL CAMERA

This year is a new memory for everyone no matter our ages, for never before have we been socially separated from one another on Easter Sunday, or any other day for that matter, unless someone in the family had the measles or chicken pox or such. For several weeks now we have had a new place of worship, at home. Here is ours.20200329_093346

We are thankful for online live worship services, just one of many things I have taken for granted up until now.

A whole new appreciation for the smart phone emerged today as I video chatted with each of our children, showing them the meal we wish they were here to share.

Receiving pictures of two great nephews on the day they hunted Easter eggs; two others as they played with their baby chickens; and video chatting great nieces with new hair color were the highlights of our day before Easter. At first I felt lonesome to see them, but knew too, that we have no idea what lonesome is as long as we can be there electronically. You know, the more I think about our distancing, the more I see us coming together. Thinking of ways to overcome the voids is a tradition that goes back, way back, to a time I have only heard of, and not seen.

Traditions are cunning little comforts. Whether the practice of worshipping with a church family, or meeting with friends for a game of Rook, until something is taken away, we don’t realize what a comfort it is. It has been good to be reminded of times I have taken for granted. Linda Pugh reminded me this morning of a time I now miss. She said her mom always handmade a new Easter dress for her.  I remember several little Easter frocks I made for my daughter. Just as I am sure Linda remembers the love her mom sewed into those dresses, I remember, and miss, the pleasure it gave me to create a garment for my little girl. Good times.

There was an Easter tradition in my childhood in which Mama bought each of her three children new outfits, right down to the little white knee socks and bow tie for our little brother. I recall the excitement of spreading out all the new items on the bed the night before – dress, cancan (ruffled slip in the South), socks, shoes, an accessory such as gloves, or some years a purse. She certainly did not have the extra money to do it; but working 50 hours a week outside the home, she had not yet developed sewing skills. I believe she did it to show us how important we were to her; to symbolically give us a new spring start. The first few Easters of adulthood when I didn’t have a new Spring outfit, felt like I was doing something wrong; the comfort of tradition was missing. I soon learned that tradition is not essential.

Linda also recalled her dad buying pink and blue baby chicks for her siblings and herself each Easter. Now there’s a tradition serving two purposes: fun for the kids now, and fried chicken later. Or eggs to gather; eggs that in future Easters would be boiled, dipped in food coloring and hidden for another hunt.  I guess bunnies and baby chickens are like the newness of Spring, when all things are being resurrected. The eggs though…I just don’t know.

I hope your new norm is working out, and that Easter wasn’t too hard for you. I do know one who was very sad and alone today; we talked late in the evening and all I could do was assure him this will pass. I encouraged him to take care of himself, get some exercise, eat healthy, hang in there – at home. Jesus said something similar to His disciples as recorded in John 13, paraphrased, He said, Love one another, keep my commandments, take care of each other and I will be back for you. On the resurrection morning He said to Mary (John 20) I am ascending to the Father, so you go tell the others.   Later he let the disciples know they had a job to do until He would come again; to spread the word everywhere that forgiveness of sins could be had through Himself.  “Go therefore and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit” (Matthew 28: 19). And when He comes again, we too will have a resurrection day. Happy Spring!

 

 

 

 

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

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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

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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!