Tag Archives: people

TC, OUR FEARLESS LEADER

02 Sunday Sep 2018

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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

MONDAY MEMORIES

28 Monday May 2018

Posted by in MONDAY MUSINGS

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Memorials Are For Remembering    With Memorial Day here, I imagine many of you are just thankful for a day off, or at least extra pay to be at work. Many are hoping for good weather to enjoy the first ‘summer holiday’, and others may be hoping for rain so they can just simply stay in and rest! But whatever you are doing, I hope we are all finding a way and some time to just be remembering. Memorials are for remembering. From rainbows to unleavened bread, God said it is good to remember; and He established several memorials throughout history. Usually we are remembering the bravery and sacrifices of the military on this day, and I am guilty of taking that for granted most of the time. I’ll take the opportunity right here to say a heartfelt THANK YOU to all who gave their time, and often life and limb, for our country. A hundred times thank you!

Remembering Our Heroes  I have enjoyed reading the pieces written lately for our local heroes, though they’d not want it worded that way; Robert Hendon, Billy Murdock, and others. The word ‘hero’ is defined by the heart who spells it. It’s something a little different to each of us. I got to wondering why I know just about nothing of the military experience of my relatives. It is because they don’t like to talk about their service time much, I guess. With the humility they learned from authority, along with the experiences they’d just as soon forget, it’s easy to see why they’d rather have been talking about their first car, or hauling hay. I want to name them here just to pay their service the respect it deserves.

First, my “little brother” Mark Alan Jackson, three years and eight months in the National Guard and ten years in the Marines, during which time he served in Desert Storm. His scars are in his ears and in his heart. I remember he was away at Christmas and made his own fake fireplace out of cardboard to hang a fake stocking. I remember that his first baby was born while he was away, and how exciting it was to watch him walk into the airport the first time he ever laid eyes on her. Thank you Mark.

Several of my favorite uncles were military men. Uncle Wade was married to my Momma’s only sister and treated us just like his own family.  Alvin Wade Holley served in the army during WWII as a mechanic. He wore an injured eye the rest of his life because a starter fell off into his eye while servicing one of the army trucks. I don’t remember any of his stories if there were any; I do remember he had the biggest heart in all the world for anyone who needed anything ever! I miss you, and thank you Uncle Wade.

Uncle Jerry Fuqua served in the army in the Korean War, married my daddy’s late sister, and lives in Paris, Tennessee. Now, as I said, they didn’t talk about themselves much so I didn’t hear this first hand from him, but Lil Brother says there’s this one incident he has heard about from Uncle Jerry’s combat time. I won’t be too specific, but it involves the necessary bodily function that still had to be carried out even if a tree or a ditch was the only outhouse available. It also involved a Korean sniper, on a hill with a good view of Uncle Jerry taking care of business so to speak. Now the story goes that when the shot went right between Uncle Jerry’s knees, nearly scaring him out of a year’s growth, the sniper just grinned and waved. I’ll be interested in finding out how much of that was truth. But at nearly 10PM, I’m not bothering a sweetheart like him just to get a good story straightened out. More on that later, perhaps. What I remember most of Uncle Jerry, is that he takes EVERYTHING in stride, cool as a cucumber, and loved my Aunt Sue truly big. Thank you Uncle Jerry.

Henry Veltman Jackson, my great-uncle, served in the Navy and experienced Pearl Harbor up close and personal. The story goes that he saved a piece of a Japanese pilot’s scarf when the pilot crashed into their ship. That was a little too close, I’d say. Uncle Veltman’s son, Johnnie Veltman Jackson also served in the Navy. They are both gone now, and what I know about their duties is nothing, I hate to say. What I remember is that they both made the first five years of my life a joy. Uncle Veltman and Aunt Lorene were like parents to my parents when they were newly weds in a big city far from home. And Johnnie was a big brother to me. They loved me like I was their own. Many others have spoken of how richly that family layered the love onto their lives, too. Thank you Uncle Veltman, and thank you Johnnie.

Hero is a Subjective Word   Last but not least, MY GRANDPA! William Chesterfield Wilkins, Chess to most folks, Chesley to my Grandma, Daddy to my Momma. Grandpa was inducted into the army near the end of WWI, when there was  an outbreak of pneumonia. Grandpa was sent home to recover from the pneumonia and the war ended before he had a chance to return. So, his status of ‘hero’ to me, all took shape at home. I remember that Grandpa could do chin ups from a maple tree limb when he was in his 60’s, maybe near 70; and that we planted a garden together in his back yard – in town. He cared a whole whoppin’ lot about his grandkids, and that we learned the important things. He chose the direct, quick and effective application of discipline; which is why he gave me my hardest whipping ever when I was about ten. I watched my little brother pretty closely after that, for a while anyway. Grandpa was a diabetic and at that time, the only snacks he could have were bananas and Fresca. I remember that when we went to his house, he would give us his last banana if we asked for it; no, he just gave it without waiting for us to ask; and a glass of Fresca too. He didn’t have an easy life, but he made life easy for his family in every way he could. Thank you Grandpa.

Remembering the lives of our personal heroes is a way of keeping them near if their hearts lie still. It tells those who remain with us that they matter, and that they always will.

I would be an ungrateful Christian if I didn’t mention my biggest hero. A memorial I am privileged to take part in every Sunday is to remember the death and resurrection of Jesus Christ. He gave His entire existence to saving, healing, feeding, and teaching the masses – the entire world if they will accept Him. From the beginning of time as His blood flowed backward, to the end of time as His blood flows forward from the cross, He stands lovingly, tenderly pleading, “Come unto me.” Thank you God.

“Come to Me, all you who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest.” ( Matthew 11:28 NKJV)

 

 

 

 

Balsamic Vinegar and Rosemary Olive Oil

22 Sunday Apr 2018

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Why make the decisions we make? Purposeful, random, or eenie-meenie-miney-moe’d, something persuades or propels us in one direction or another.  Sometimes I just like the sound of a thing; like EVOO, or balsamic vinegar. I have a bottle of each on the kitchen counter, just because I like the looks and sounds of cooking with them. Over time, I’ve developed a real like for one; a little less for the other. I’ve obviously encountered a decision-making situation today or I wouldn’t be thinking  along that line. As we age we often take on sensitivities and intolerance to various foods and environments. Mine came to be wheat gluten, and over several years I’ve learned where gluten may be hiding and how embarrassing it is to question vendors, who only sell, not make the food. The frustration on their faces when we ask “does that have wheat in it?” is obvious. But it must be asked to make the decision.

A year or two later:  I made a decision on this rainy day to have a small ‘skinny coconut latte’ and I may have found a new best friend to accompany me as I blog. I still like to say “balsamic vinegar”;  and “olive oil” just rolls off the tongue (double entendre unintentional, but I like it). Perhaps I began this post to address decisions. Picking it back up today however, I really do not recall that particular impending decision. But what I do see in it is this: sensitivity and intolerance! As I get older, I find I am less sensitive, but more intolerant. While that may sound conflicting, allow me to explain.  For food and environment, ‘sensitive’ and ‘intolerant’ are pretty much the same. With attitudes, each of those words can go its own way independent of the other one. In the years when I was overly sensitive, everything seemed personal. Comments, actions, attitudes, were perceived as directly pertaining to or because of me. Me. Really? Someone forgot to tell me that the world was not my mother and I would not be accountable to them all. What makes us think we – anyone – is important enough to cause others to have those ‘bird-flipping’ days? What could I have done to deepen another’s frown, or increase the grit in their growl? I truly was relieved to discover years ago that the world’s happiness does not hinge on me. In case you don’t recognize it, that would be called co-dependancy. I learned it in childhood and that’s another story for another day. Isn’t it liberating to know that people can snap at you, frown and scowl, and you can just smile back knowing it isn’t your fault? Now, of course if I have offended, and yes sometimes I do, then it is just as liberating to admit it and say “please forgive”.  But in the world of vinegar-dripping attitudes, just remember that even if it wasn’t our doing, we can still have a sweet effect on the vinegar, and not become acidic ourselves. Drop into their lives a little sugar, salt and pepper, chopped tomatoes, hot peppers and onions and that vinegar comes to life! We called that goulash where I came from.  “A word fitly spoken is like apples of gold in settings of silver.” (Proverbs 25:11)  Being less sensitive decreases worry and less worry opens the path to positive reactions.

Tolerance, however,  is another thing for me. When I was more sensitive, I was more tolerant in that I was prone to think maybe everybody is right, and I am not. Sensitivity for me, left me less clear about where I stood on a subject; therefore, I was more tolerant of the world’s junk.  I was afraid to make a stand even with a strong platform, so that I wouldn’t stir up some controversy that might be taken personally. This is reminding me of the “double minded man” of James 1, verses 8, 23, and 24 who is indecisive, doubting, and can’t even remember his own image!! I am happier being less tolerant of the things I know my Savior taught against, even though I am still  no fan of controversy! I will, in fact,  go to great lengths to avoid it. That’s just one reason I like to write; it gives me time to carefully phrase, and rephrase things to avoid being abrasive. Though I would never do that intentionally, it just seems that when the tongue gets going, it is usually way ahead of the reins. So, I write.

So then, being intolerant enables me to take a firm stand when I know a thing to be repulsive because now I can clearly separate the things I cannot tolerate, from the people who do them. The people are loved, the actions are not.  I learned recently that one reason the shepherd anoints the sheep’s head with oil is to cause an opponent’s head to slide off when he is butting heads in a challenge. Less damage is done. Another reason is to repel the flies that pester and fester. The Lord has anointed my head with oil, and it is so sweet. I can tolerate the pounding I may invite by being intolerant of what I want no part of.  And I can let insults slide right off!

Rosemary added to olive oil gives it a touch of sweetness, adding to the oil’s many other benefits. A wonderful emollient, it also is loaded with vitamins and antioxidants; and is flavorful alone or with added herbs. I choose basil and olive oil to change our age-old family recipe for goulash. I’m sure this would not be tolerated by my grandmothers, but I think my Mama would love it. She was much more tolerant of my decisions.

Then there is the vinegar I just can’t seem to totally avoid. You know, no matter what kind of vinegar I open, it still smells sharp and tastes acidic. As the Lord anoints my head with the oil of gladness, may the Holy Spirit continue to buffer me that I will not carry acrid sensitivity, but rather joyful certainty. If I have aligned myself with the good Shepherd, I can enjoy the oil, and avoid the vinegar. Maybe that is where this post was going from the start. We can make the decision to spew acrid vinegary attitudes all about, or we can pour the oil to smooth and enhance life for ourselves and others.

“You prepare a table before me in the presence of my enemies; You anoint my head with oil; my cup runs over.” Psalm 23:5

COOKIES AND CRAYONS; It’s a Kid’s Life

15 Sunday Apr 2018

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Photo on 4-15-18 at 4.41 PM

I was a kid again last Sunday afternoon. Having received a bit of morning news that I was helpless to change, I turned to activity that might be the response from a child. No, I didn’t have a tantrum; in fact, it wasn’t even an anger producing situation at all. It was just one of those times when a child might shrug with helplessness, become saddened, and move on to activities that help him process life’s circumstances and deal, or more accurately, not deal with it.

After worship and a meal, I took myself to Wal-Mart. I needed cookies! Imagine my delight when I found gluten-free Animal Crackers! Now, I do admit a great chocolate chip cookie is hard to beat, but for a kid – my kids – animal crackers were the best! I couldn’t resist that little red circus car of crispy animal shapes to take home to my little ones in the 1980’s. Neither was I about to turn down this Glutino version today, since I have become gluten intolerant over the years.

Next, my Wal-Mart wonderings took me past the colorful Crayola aisle.  Whereas this is a temptation that I normally resist, that day my grownup reasoning was drowned out by recollections of opening a box of sharp, smooth waxy crayons. So I took a box of 24 and casually placed them in my cart, just for me.

After selecting the boring grownup stuff – light bulbs, detergent and cat liter – I found a cake mix and cherry pie filling  to try a new “sugar-free” treat for my hubby friend. (We kids can be so naive.) Eager to try out my new treats,  I had visions of hopping on the back of my cart and coasting up to the checkout counter. But I knew I would just pop a wheelie and end up on my back, in the floor, with a buggy of crayons and cookies on top of me! Shudder.

Once I was home, I shared the Animal Crackers with my Yorkie who was ever so glad I wasn’t thinking like a grownup. I also colored a whole page in a Barbie coloring book that I once bought for our great nieces. As I colored, I was thinking, no wonder kids are such inventors of ideas! My brain storming was in overdrive as I made Barbie a brunette and colored her world.

  • Wal-Mart – that magical place a child learns to ask for as soon as he or she can talk. It’s where they can walk out with something interesting that they didn’t walk in with. They smile and speak with no prejudice.
  • Animal Crackers – simply flavored, easy to hold, crunchy, and a trip to the zoo – all in one little  package! For about 79 cents (in our day) you could feed a child’s imagination. What fun would it be to bite the head off a lion if it didn’t crunch?! Or if a bear didn’t ‘snap’ in half?
  • Crayons – colorful; new sharp points that make it so easy to stay within the lines; and that smell!

The aroma of new Crayola crayons takes me back to childhood where my cousin Jan and I would lie in the floor of their walk-in closet and color our evenings away! The intensity of staying in the lines always made her stick out her tongue and that made me smile. Being the boss of how each picture developed gave us purpose, and a sense of accomplishment. It just felt good to control something in a world so out of our control; same as today.

14 But when Jesus saw it, He was greatly displeased and said to them, “Let the little children come to Me, and do not forbid them; for of such is the kingdom of God.
15Assuredly, I say to you, whoever does not receive the kingdom of God as a little child will by no means enter it.”
16 And He took them up in His arms, put His hands on them, and blessed them.

Mark 10:14-16 NKJV

 

Friendships: Puppies and Porcupines

28 Wednesday Mar 2018

Posted by in Reflections

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Hello! Long time, no see. I’ve been a neglectful blogger lately. My writing time was used to expand one of my articles published previously by Christian Woman Magazine, and I used that to present a talk in a Ladies Retreat in West Virginia. My sister and daughter accompanied me there last weekend. We had a wonderful time of fellowship and fun; so many laughs, hugs and encouragement that I feel recharged and refreshed! I’m not sure we realize, as women in a busy world, that our souls need refilling and refueling on a regular basis. We certainly pour out of them on a regular basis, do we not? I like the slogan on the Alum Creek Ladies Retreat Facebook page, which is “You can’t pour from an empty cup”. That has me thinking about friendship.

There are of course several levels of friendship. There’s the ‘barely know ya’ Facebook ‘friending’ and the ‘so glad to reconnect’ social media friending; there are long-standing work/school/neighborhood relationships that became friendships probably due to simply being there and the frequency of spending time together. Then, there are those unique people from our past who we can see ever so seldom and always feel like we are just picking back up a conversation from only yesterday. You know the kind , who have their ‘only them’ places in your heart. Perhaps it’s the first childhood friend you made (mine is Sandy Perfilio Jordan); or perhaps your high school bestie (enter Janie Hughes Guizlo); and of course the one you lived with as you left home the first time for that adventure called college (Linda Stubblefield Pugh). A different kind of friendship that can only be cultivated through time is that of husband and wife as newly wed days turn into always. He always has my back.

The weekend held for me a buffet of friendships. From the acquaintances that immediately felt like good friends, to the life long cherished friendship that is much more like family. This is the Arthur family of a little place called Bancroft, West Virginia. The mom, Helen, was my baby sitter before my memories begin and the mutual love between her family and mine continues in spite of my mom’s passing and the 450 miles between us. Helen’s daughter Kimberly Holder is my sister in the spirit. We think a lot alike although she is much more thoughtful and humble than I am. I had the privilege of seeing her sister and brother-in-law (Vicki and Whitney Hess) give their live band performance at a little Italian restaurant.  Though I never thought Vicki and I to be anything alike with all her talents, I discovered we have one important thing in common: she was more nervous singing in front of her three friends from Kentucky than all the times she has performed before senators, governors, and such. I too, had just had a case of nervous nellies as I spoke before a group of about 170 gals just like myself – living our seasons, doing our best to make each day count. My sister, my daughter and I were treated like royalty. That’s hospitable friendship.

Speaking of sis and daughter, this is another kind of friendship. Kathy, my sister and Stephanie, my daughter are the most supportive loving people you could ever ask for; more than I ever deserve! These close family members are people you can argue with and still come out friends. We must have those with whom we can share tears and confidences, knowing that it goes no further than them. That’s called trust.

My Mama told me once that to have a friend, you have to be a friend. I believe she got that from Proverbs in the bible, where it says “if a man is to have friends, he must show himself friendly”, and it was her answer to a question I asked.  I sat down at her kitchen table one morning in the months before her passing and said, “Mama, I don’t know what I’ll do without you. You are my best friend; and I don’t make friends the way you do.” That’s when she said how to be a friend. Hers was a sacrificial, wise and true love friendship.

I enjoy a large church congregation full of friends, many of whom I have no doubt would do anything they could if I needed help. Even there, there are always those two or three with whom you share a special bond. One shares a love for writing and has the most beautiful spirit. Another was a labor patient whose baby I was blessed to catch as he entered the world, making two friends of one! A couple of others whose newborns came at the end of an overtime shift where much bonding takes place are dear to my heart. Camaraderie at its best!

I’d be remiss if I didn’t mention the very special friendship we have in our pets. Pets, especially puppies, bring out a gentleness in us that we start losing at about five years old. I think a three or four-year old would pet a porcupine and sweet talk it if given the chance. I want to be that kind of friend – the one who can love another in spite of the prickly days, the days when you need to be told you are special and not be reminded that it’s due to the quills. Like my puppy, who is always glad to see me come back home, I want to have open arms and heart for those in distress, or with regrets. I think that’s a Jesus kind of love and friendship.

I was blessed today with a visit from my old college roommate. The two of us shared memories and todays’ struggles and brunch. Hers is a non-judgmental kind of friendship, where we can openly discuss family matters and controversial issues with that trust I mentioned earlier. Along with the past weekend, today refilled my cup; I’m refreshed, renewed and refilled. That’s friendship.