Yes, daddy - the flag is up!

 

My parents hadn't lived with me very long before there was a flag post in my yard - proudly holding a flag that had flown in Iraq, where my nephew Brad Williams was serving our country as a member of the Army National Guard.  Daddy had instilled a strong sense of patriotism and service in the lives of Brad, his twin brother, Chad, and my son, Tray.  He was so proud of all three!

Daddy had served in the Philippines in World War II.  My sister, Cindy, and I knew very little about his service there.  We knew he was the first "boy" from South Jacksonville to enlist - just a few days after December 7, 1941, and two weeks before he gave mother an engagement ring. He was off to Shreveport, Louisiana, before she graduated from Landon High School and wrote her when he got promoted to sergeant in mid-June.  He told her to plan a wedding.  She was all for that!  They were married just 7 weeks, still honeymooning in Shreveport, when he got on a train headed west and her train was on the way to Jacksonville.  The next time they saw each other was in December 1945.  

We did know about mother's brother, Ellie Rudolph Nesmith who was killed over Germany in 1944.  He had been one of daddy's closest friends, and his picture was on the piano at my grandparents' home for much of my growing-up years.  There was also a room called "The Prayer Room" at  Glendale Community Church that was a memorial to the only son of my grandparents.  And I've often wondered if that loss contributed to the wonderful care they gave to others.

As the years passed and two little brothers came into our family, daddy seemed to talk more about his life as a soldier. He was of the old school, and you didn't talk to your little girls about that.

We were grown with families of our own when he started hearing about some squadron reunions. That became very important to our parents, and they so enjoyed the times they shared with his old friends. Once, it was in Jacksonville, and our whole family participated in welcoming this group.  We loved it!!!

By 2005, when my mother and dad moved in with me, daddy's patriotism had become one of the most important parts of his life. At first, he made sure the flag was up at daybreak and took it down at sunset. And then there came a time when the "chore" became mine.

One thing I heard almost every morning in the summer of 2009 was, "Is the flag up?".

After daddy died, I began to take flowers to Greenlawn Cemetery at least four times a year.  Our family plot has grown.  This year, we added Uncle Bill Weitzel, and when the marker arrives, we will add Uncle Howard Beardslee. Daddy's brother, Ted Huffingham, Jr. is buried close by. They all served - as did Uncle Henry Capp.  And Rich Suhey served - he's buried in our family plot (my name is already on the marker).

I have a flag that stays up all the time now  (not to worry, I have an outdoor light that is always on).

That way, each morning when I start my day, I know that daddy would be pleased.  

Yes, daddy, the flag is up.  And tell mother I've added a birdhouse - you all would have loved watching for birds to come for a treat!

May you have enough sunshine in your life,  to make you appreciate the shadows

Flowers for Mother's Day

My daughters were in high school. As happens to mothers and daughters during that time in life, they were both irritated with me about something. However, when the teens at our church distributed roses to their mothers, they both made a beeline for me. All these years later, when I think they might be irritated, I like to remember that year.

By now, I don't think irritated would be a word in their vocabulary.  They have pretty much settled into adulthood, and their children are all older than they were on that Mother's Day.  I'm no longer a reason for them to be irritated. Well maybe just a little.

Becca usually gives me smell-good pampering items.

Renee sends me a plant or a floral arrangement.

I was surprised this year when I opened a box from Renee. 

I read the directions before I sent her a text that said, "This is going to be a fun exercise".

She didn't understand until I sent her this photo with these explanations:  They are tulip bulbs. The wood chips are there to protect the product when it is being shipped.

When I told my Master Gardener friend about the gifts, she had a word of warning.  "Tulips explode".  I responded, "You mean there will be a lot of them?:

"No," she said, "They will 'poof' explode".

So I put the container filled with tulip bulbs in my front yard, and this is how they looked one week after planting. It has been fun to watch, water, and turn the plants a few degrees each day to align with the sun.

And of course, there's a lesson.

There have been a time or two when I felt everything was ugly and I was even a bit useless. When I didn't think there was going to be any fun doing anything, and I was probably just waiting for "poof—EXPLODE."

But just like Becca and Renee got through being irritated with their mother - and wanted to be sure I had a rose that Mother's Day, while life may sometimes feel like the ugly tulip bulbs that arrived this year, in time, everything becomes beautiful.

58 years ago this Spring, I decided I should not marry Ray Parker, even though he was going to be a preacher. In my heart, I knew that was what God was calling me to be.

I went to church one Sunday morning, and there was a picture of a little girl an umbrella in her hand and some flowers in the other. The scripture said something like, "If you do what God wants you to do, he will give you rain in due season."

I determined my best move was to marry, and we did that summer. There were some ugly times, but the children that came from that marriage have been as lovely to me as the pretty tulips that Renee sent me for Mother's Day.

They are a constant reminder of God's blessings for me -- no matter what might be happening.

PS Tray also gives nice presents: These flowers don't need watering or sunlight and will not fade.

 May you have enough sunshine in your life. . . .  

. . .  to make you appreciate the shadows

"Lord, Say Hello to Mama"

It's one way I am like my mother.

When she and her sisters wrote about their lives in 1980, those words were the title she chose for her chapter.  Her reasoning for the title?

Ted Huffingham (our daddy's dad) died in February 1967.  My youngest brother, Lester, was five years old, and soon after Papa had died, Lester looked up to the heavens and said, "Hello, Papa".

Pauline Mercer Nesmith, who was my mother's mother, passed away in May 1971.  

Mother recounted many times that she wished she could tell her mother something. However, she developed a habit of saying it out loud, sometimes saying something like, "Lord, tell mama."

Now that my mother is also gone, I often think of something I'd like to tell her.  I remember the many cups of tea we shared, talking about our lives. I really enjoyed my mother's company.

And often when I have my afternoon cup of tea, I wish she were here for me to talk to.  She always had a different way to look at what I was dealing with.  

I recently saw an advertisement for a book entitled,  Things I Wish I Had Told My Mother.  My first reaction was rather smug.

There's nothing I didn't tell my mother.  Except. . .

Our brother Jonathan, died in 2020.  He had visited her about six weeks before his death, and although we all knew his time was short, my siblings and I agreed that we would not tell her.

It surprised us, but we believe she mentioned him only once. 

On Mother's Day in 2021, she said, "Wonder how Jonathan is?" Lester spoke up.  "I'm sure he's having a nice day".

A little more than a year later, when the funeral home representative was about to take her body away, I said, 

 "And I never had to tell you".

I remain glad that we kept that from her.

Now, if you are reading this and you know me even a little bit, you know that I tell everyone - everything.

If you knew my mother, you also know, "I got that from her."

Fortunately, I also have her smile and her eyes.

And I still talk to her - just as she talked to her mama.

 May you have enough sunshine in your life. . . .  to make you appreciate the shadows

Sentimental? ? ?

It comes as no surprise to most people when I admit that I am very sentimental. I married Ray Parker on my parents' 25th wedding anniversary, and I married Rich Suhey the weekend my mother was celebrating her 75th birthday. I also keep things for a long time. Last year, I wore the shoes I had worn to my daughter's wedding in 1995, and when they got wet, they fell apart. But that's another story.

This has been hanging in my closet for five-plus decades.  

What does one do with a wedding dress?

That was my dilemma for many years.  

When I was about to marry in 1967, my mother, my sister, Cindy, and I went shopping. Our first stop was a bridal shop in San Marco. I found what I thought was the perfect dress. It was less than $100 (Remember, this was 58 years ago). I was ready to purchase.  

However, we heard that buying the first dress was not a good idea, so we went across the river into Jacksonville. We went to Cohen's and to Furchgott's. I tried on a few, but I was still convinced that the first one was "the one." 

So, back to San Marco we went.

The salesperson was finalizing the sale of "my" dress for another bride.

I was heartsick.

However, my resourceful mother and I drew what we remembered the dress looked like and went to see her sister, Carolyn, who "loved to sew and was quite good at it. ".Together, they found patterns she could use and started making my dress. At some point, my best friend Bonnie joined the project. She is also an excellent seamstress.

We paid about $30 for the material and gave Aunt Carolyn this epergne as a thank you.  For many years, it held flower arrangements for family weddings and celebrations.  Aunt Carolyn gave it back to me several years ago.                                                                                                                      Sadly, the marriage ended after 15 years, and the dress has been hanging in my closet. I may have felt it was tainted. I knew my daughters wanted their own dresses,

I just didn't know what to do with it.  So I kept it.

And then I had a thought: Could the lace be removed and some sort of memento made for my grandchildren? Although they were born long after I was divorced from their grandpa, they have always known that I believe the children born to Ray Parker and me are an incredible blessing. They have had a good life since we were divorced, and each of them—and subsequently my seven grandchildren—has some of his good genes.

And so I found a seamstress.

If you count these, you might say - but Paula has seven grandchildren.

Third grandchild, Grace, will be the first of my grandchildren to marry when she is the bride in early summer.  She has her handkerchief.

I'm excited about her wedding. I am planning to wear the dress I wore to her parents' wedding more than 25 years ago.

Did I mention I am sentimental???

 May you have enough sunshine in your life. . . .  to make you appreciate the shadows

Business as usual (Days two and three of a Holy Week Journal)

What happens during Holy Week?  

Until five years ago, when I was one of the many who were "stuck" at home, I don't think I had given much thought to what went on between that day when Jesus was honored with a chorus of Hosannas and a palm-laden path and the events that led to His crucifixion and resurrection.  

And full disclosure, I only wondered that as I pondered what to write in my journal. So I was curious I might learn when I saw those five words:  What happens during Holy Week?

I anxiously opened the story, hoping to find answers to a question I didn't really know I had.

One interesting tidbit: The words "Holy Monday" and "Holy Tuesday" were used to describe the early days of the week. I hadn't seen them before. They are terms used in the 21st Century. I still wonder what Jesus's followers did in those days.

One source (Christianity.com) says that Jesus taught His followers the importance of forgiving one another.

So, for Jesus and His disciples, it was the same as any other day.  

He knew what lay ahead, which also meant the disciples would experience fear, anger, and grief at the hands of religious leaders and even one of their own.  

And so, He taught them.

For Jesus, it was simply

Business as usual. 

And for His followers -- it was better, I think, that they did not know what was going to happen.

As Paul Harvey would say, there would be the REST of the STORY.

           May you have enough sunshine in your life to make you appreciate the shadows

"The Passion" (Day one of a Holy Week Journal)

PREFACE:

Anyone who knows me knows that I have a penchant for words.  

Sometimes, those words are just for me - they help me sort something out. And at other times, they are thoughts that have ruminated in my brain until I must put them into words.

That is what happened to me in 2020.  And here we are - five years later - and once again, I think I just must "use my words."  

I considered doing this by "invitation only"  because it clearly will take a Christian direction. However, you can choose if you want to read. I choose if I want to read what someone posts that I don't agree with—like I do read what my friends say about FSU or the Georgia Bulldogs.

At any rate, I am going to use my blog and write what I feel—and more than that, what I believe.

You might say that even though Lent officially ends this Saturday, it's a part of my Lenten discipline.  

2020

The Pandemic was becoming a reality. Schools, Churches, and many businesses (not the least of which were restaurants) had closed their doors. A facial mask was the order of the day. Just over a month had passed since the United States had come to a standstill.

And it was Holy Week.  

It was a sad time for a person who loves remembering and celebrating. No small crosses would be made from palm branches or fronds, and no altars would be set for celebrating the Eucharist.

No Easter egg hunts and Easter dresses and bonnets would hang in the closet (or even in closed stores because of COVID-19.)

I have always loved Easter. I love the Sunrise service, the chocolate, and the music. Oh, and I always love getting a new outfit.

However, Palm Sunday didn't take as much precedence. I was in the fourth grade when the junior choir sang "The Palms" with the adult choir. I remember we carried palms, like the ones I often use to decorate my front door.

And I still enjoy listening to the Jean Baptist Faure work with the same name.

In 1997, Palm Sunday took on a new meaning for me.

I was dating Rich Suley. We had enjoyed a day in St. Augustine. The next day was Palm Sunday. I'm not sure that it was planned, although he was Catholic,but  we ended up at the Saturday evening mass at the Cathedral Basilica of St.  Augustine, and for the first time, I heard what is known as "The Passion."  I was impressed.

Fast forward a bit.  Three years, to be exact.  By this time, I was living in Mandarin and attending the Episcopal Church of Our Saviour.  I had no idea what to expect, but I was once more impressed.  The congregation met in the field next to the church.  Our rector, the Rev. John Palarine, read some Scripture, and there were liturgical dancers.  We then joined the choir in a song with the word "Hosanna" repeatedly.  We processed into the church.  And once again, I heard "The Passion."

That was 25 years ago. I don't believe I have missed a Palm Sunday since — except that one during the Pandemic. As it happened, I was able to participate online.  

And what is "the Passion"?  On Palm Sunday, different parishioners rise from a pew to read a part of the account of the Crucifixion as found in the New Testament. It is very moving.

Not everyone who reads this blog believes as I do. Even so, I hope you will take a moment (actually about 20 minutes) to find a recording of this. It is very moving. 

It's incredible that the same people who were singing "Hosanna" and waving palms that day would be shouting "Crucify him" less than a week later.

Sometimes, that's exactly how life is!  

Witches Brew

Our mother loved change - most of the time.

And she surprised us in her nineties when she changed her view of Halloween.

In my memories of Halloween, it was not her favorite holiday. I thought she must have a  Biblical reason.   As a child, I thought everything she said came straight from the Bible.

Oh, we went trick-or-treating. My parents were involved in the PTA at Hogan Spring Glen Elementary School and always helped with the Fall Carnival. Their Sunday School class often had a Halloween party, where even some of the adults (but never mother and daddy) dressed up. 

In 1959, I was too old for trick-or-treating and probably grumpy about it. We lived in Sans Souci, where many children enjoyed Halloween. So, my mother devised a plan. We could serve lemonade from a cast iron pot. Daddy made a sign that said "witches brew," and I dressed in her black dinner dress (like this one I saw at Stein-Mart in 2016). I wore a witch's hat—I loved it. 

By Halloween 1960, we had moved to live with my grandparents, Ellie and Pauline Nesmith, because of my grandmother's health.  Daddy took Cindy to Sans Souci, where she went trick-or-treating with our former neighbors.  Jonathan was just a year old, so mother and I stayed home - my task was to answer the door.

Not one person came!

What a letdown.  Just the year before had been so exciting.

And then I grew up and got married - and Ray Parker thought Halloween was "of the devil," so our children were limited in their participation.  However, once the four of us moved to Jacksonville in 1982, my three joined Cindy's children, and Halloween became fun.  

Tray's senior year in high school as an employee at Ace Hardware, he knocked on a few doors as a "helpful hardware man."

When my parents lived with me, they enjoyed answering the door for trick-or-treaters—especially when our guests were their grandchildren and great-grandchildren. Mother always wanted to prepare something homemade and daddy loved the candy!

Mother's dislike of Halloween from my childhood stayed with me a long time.  

However, at some point, our friend Bonnie Smith Allen gifted mother with clothes from her time as a childcare center owner. 

You can imagine my surprise when I visited her assisted living apartment in 2016 and found this wreath on her door. As it happens, I hang it every year.

I have enjoyed seeing my grandchildren's Halloween photos and greeting those who live nearby when they come trick-or-treating. Now that those grandchildren are almost beyond the trick-or-treating stage, I like that I have little children nearby and will have a treat for them on Halloween night.

My mother changed her view of Halloween, which is good. One thing my mother was always willing to do was accept change. Actually, she loved change. She changed the furniture at the drop of a hat (and yes, she would drop the hat).

But the things that never changed were her faith in God, her love for Daddy, Cindy, Jonathan, Lester, and me and their grandchildren, and her happiness that once Halloween was over, she could decorate for Thanksgiving!

Truth be told. . . I'm with her!

                 May you have enough sunshine in your life to make you appreciate the shadows