Sitting by a Laughing Fire

 The Huffingham family is well acquainted with fire.

I'll never forget the phone call in late December 1977.  There had been a fire. A short in the electrical system of the house, built in 1887, and home to the Nesmith and Huffingham families since the mid '30's. My mother was running an errand.  My dad was taking a nap.  The heat of the flames shattered the glass windowed doors and woke Daddy up.

I lived in Tennessee, and I'll never forget that phone call!  Of course, I wanted to come home. But I had three children, 6.3 and four and a half months.  That trip was out of the question.

Fortunately, the tin roof saved the house.

Ruth Bell Graham's anthology of poetry, Sitting By My Laughing Fire, had been published earlier that year. My mother’s copy, borrowed from a friend, was destroyed. Mother purchased a new book and gave it to the owner.  However, that person refused to accept it, and for as long as I can remember, that book was on a Huffingham bookshelf.

Because I like poetry and Ruth Bell Graham has always been one of my "heroines", I loved that book. I wish I knew what finally happened to it.

I do know this.

The house was restored to be a beautiful example of the fact that, sometimes, when bad things happen, good things result. The book of Isaiah includes encouraging words to the Israelites who, after their return from Babylonian captivity, were facing a difficult time.  One verse is a wonderful example of what happened to our family after that fire.

"I will bestow on them a crown of beauty instead of ashes" Isaiah 61:3.

Less than five years later, my children and I experienced the destruction of our family.

The flames of failure were devastating.  There seemed to be no beauty, just ashes.

However, my parents welcomed me and my three children into their home.  My siblings were supportive.  We lived very close to our family's home church, which made it good for us to stay involved in community and worship.

That's been more than 40 years.  Between 1982 and 1996, my children and I were privileged to live in that house.  And one of the things we most enjoyed was when the weather called for a fire.

This weekend, I have had the privilege of sitting by a laughing fire. It's not "my" laughing fire, but I am privileged to enjoy it anyone.  I've watched the flickering flames and remembered... my dad backing up to the fire, my son adding a log, the times we all spent enjoying its beauty and warmth.

And I've once more reflected on the beauty that came from the ashes and been grateful. 

   May you have enough sunshine in your life 

                                            to help you appreciate the shadows

PS I ordered the Graham book.

  

Like an elephant

 I've never really appreciated it.

Being told I have a memory like an elephant.  And how do we know that an elephant has a good memory? I googled that question and could have spent much more time than I want to devote to this column learning all the ways that people who study the socialization of animals have discovered that elephants remember. And since elephants live for a long time, it stands to reason that they remember for a long time as well.

I mean, really, who wants to be anything like a huge mammal, with big ears and a long trunk? I'd rather be. . . well, I don't really know what I would rather be. AND no one said I LOOK like an elephant.

Sounds like someone is being a tad sensitive. However, I do have a good memory.

Sometimes I love that about myself.  Sometimes it makes me sad.  Like everyone, I have good and bad memories.

This week, a friend sent me an encouraging text.  He said that he had read that only one in 100 persons alive today has something called HSAM - Highly superior autobiographical memory. It was further noted that some people can remember practically every day of their lives since childhood.

He ended his text with "you are blessed".

I was reflecting on that several hours later, and I suddenly remembered something I did long ago that will hopefully provide a solution to an issue I am currently facing.

And having a memory like an elephant took on a whole new meaning.  Besides, sometimes elephants are right cute.  I wanted to include a photo of Dumbo - but didn't want to break any copyright laws.

Just use your imagination.

And in the meantime, 

             May you have enough sunshine in your life 

                                            to help you appreciate the shadows

You'll like being a big sister

My mother was the "big" sister to Thelma, Carolyn, Ann, and Beth.  She liked that role for the rest of her life.  And sometime in 1950 she began to tell me that I was going to like being a big sister We have heard her tell about this day many times.  Her trip to the delivery room, daddy's happiness in a second little girl.  And I remember a ride in an ambulance with a baby wrapped in a yellow blanket. 

That baby was my little sister. The one my mother had been telling me about.

I don’t remember being jealous.

However, I know that I wrote on the back of the living room sofa.

That little sister, Cindy, says that her coming into my life was the beginning of my creativity.

We spent the next eight years enjoying life. We did fun things. We did some things we shouldn’t have.

Once, I took her on a walk over to see our grandma. A friend called Mother and told her that she saw us walking on Ryar Road. We would have had to walk across the Glendale Community Church property. We were switched with a branch by the back door step. I would have been 6 when that happened.

It was also about this time that we broke a lamp in the living room. I was chasing her as we climbed across the back of a chair. She’s the one who caused the crash —

Mother was not home. She took me to the bathroom in the middle of the night. I was still snubbing. I asked her if Daddy told her that Cindy broke the lamp.

“Daddy told me that you and Cindy broke the lamp”.    I still say, “She’s the one who went over the chair when the lamp fell.”

Oh well.

We lived in Sans Souci when Cindy fell off her bike and just knew her arm was broken. She came running in, saying, “Paula, pray, pray, pray.”  Of course, it was broken.

For the rest of our lives, when something happens to either of us, we say "Pray, pray, pray".

We have both experienced happiness and sorrow. When something is happening, we always get through it together.

Cindy has been an incredible support to me. When I came home in 1982, she and Robert were amazing in their love and care for me and my children. When I remarried, she and Robert were the witnesses. When Rich died, she came immediately.

In the 27 years since then, she has continued to encourage and help me and most of all pray for me and for others!

That's where she the most like our mother.  Which makes me quite thankful that. . . 

          May you have enough sunshine in your life 

                                    to help you appreciate the shadows

A cup of tea

"You are a caregiver."

I appreciated the words of my friend, the Rev. Joe Gibbes.  

I think I was born to be a caregiver.  My grandparents and my parents certainly were, and most of the time, I embrace it.

However. . .  

No matter how kind and caring a person is, the person who is in the role of "being cared for" reacts...and the caregiver feels like a failure. That's how I felt yesterday when my client told me I talk too much -- I didn't know how to make a cup of tea -- and that she wanted me to leave! Did I learn anything?

Hum

She asked me why I talk so much. I was trying to make conversation - one of the reasons I am there.

I sat in silence and enjoyed my cup of tea - and then she told me I should leave.

I was pretty bummed.

Of course, this morning, my devotional began with "Whatever yesterday held, today is a fresh chance to sing of God's faithfulness. Begin your day with praise—His strength and love will carry you through."

I'm making an effort to find the good in this...rather than be bogged down, feeling like I failed.

Because I was "sent home" yesterday, I had time to finish another project, so my day ended on a better note.

And I have a different client today.  She can't hear, but she loves to communicate, and she has a whiteboard. That's a great reminder of the times we did that with our mother.

I am also going to endeavor to remember that yesterday's client is struggling with the place she is in life today. And I am going to make an effort to remember how pleasant she can be - and was last week as she anticipated celebrating her birthday. 

I do think I have those gifts -- because, despite feeling rejected, I'm thinking and planning for our next visit.

After all  — it’s not about the caregiver!!!  And next week I'm going to ask her to show me how to make a cup of tea.

                    May you have enough sunshine in your life 

                                    to help you appreciate the shadows

 

What are you doing "New Year's Eve'?

 I sing that song every year.

So I finally googled it.  It's an Ella Fitzgerald song that is really asking for companionship on the night that is "out with the old and in with the new".

I suppose it's a love song of sorts.

There's a superstition that says you'll do whatever matters most for the rest of the year - based on what you are doing at midnight.  That's pretty boring in my case.  I'll be asleep.  Unless the noisemakers wake me up and turn the television back on to see the ball drop.

We did not grow up with parents who celebrated New Year's Eve.  That is, unless you went to a church watchnight service.  Mother probably wanted to go, and Daddy wasn't the least bit interested.

And then I married a preacher, and the traditional "watchnight" service became a regular part of our routine.

Forty-three years have passed since I was a preacher's wife. And I can honestly say, the watchnight service is not something that I miss!  

However, I still understand the concept.  Especially because one of my favorite portions of scripture is Philippians 3:13,14 -   “forgetting those things which are behind. . . “.

2025 included some big changes for me.  I said goodbye to my position as Volunteer Coordinator at the Mandarin Museum & Historical Society, a role I had held for 10 years. I also got a new grandson when Troy Craven married my granddaughter, Grace, and my name is on the spine of a book.  An additional plus is that my personal budget is balanced.

“. . . I press toward the mark for the prize of the high calling of God in Christ Jesus.”

Really, my life is good.

So what am I doing New Year's Eve?  'Putting Christmas away; soaking the peas for tomorrow; preparing a quiet dinner for two and thinking and planning for the months ahead and endeavoring to practice "letting the day come to me."

If you think being a planner and learning to let the day come to me is an oxymoron, try walking in my shoes.  My "salvation" in this is that I truly am pressing toward the mark. . ." As I write this, the song my daddy lived by reminds me of what is truly important: Living by Faith.

So on New Year's Eve, I suppose I'm developing a plan...to press on....by Faith...grateful for friends - and companionship!  And making an effort to “let the day come to me.”

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

I Believe in Santa Claus

It is the fourth Sunday of Advent.  The candle of LOVE is burning.

As I have done throughout Advent, I've endeavored to keep the "word" of the week  - Hope, Peace, Joy and now Love  in front of me.  I've listened to quotes, songs, and tried to remember experiences that focused on love.

The first quote is easy,

 "For God so loved the world, that He gave His only Son. . .".That's Christmas in a nutshell.

Christmas is all about love - Perfect love.

And it’s about traditions.

Christmas was always important to our family.  Daddy’s parents did not have much money.  They always went out on Christmas Eve to do their shopping because stores had items marked down.  That carried over into adulthood for Daddy.  He wanted to go buy one more thing on Christmas Eve.

Mother’s parents always had fruit and nuts in their stockings, so we got... you guessed it, fruit and nuts

Mother told us that when she was a child, she just knew she could hear Santa on the roof.  

However, she did not want us to believe in Santa Claus.  And yet, there were always unwrapped gifts under the tree.  And we left a snack of cheese and crackers and a Coke for Santa (our daddy’s preference).  We didn’t believe in the Easter Bunny (but we always had an Easter basket).  Nor did we believe in the tooth fairy.  But that did not prevent us from leaving a tooth under our pillow. So none of us is irritated that we didn’t get to “believe in Santa Claus”.

We learned that Santa Claus is the spirit of giving, and that we give presents to show family and friends that we love them. And somehow we believed - at least in the Spirit of Christmas.

When Cindy and I had children, Daddy humored us by dressing up as Santa Claus.  In 1977, Mother, Daddy, Cindy, Robert, and their children came to see us in Chattanooga.  The first four Huffingham grandchildren are hiding Santa, but I promise you that it is their Granddaddy.  

As the grands grew up, they came to love and appreciate Santa and Mrs. Claus.  They truly were a picture of love. 

So, Advent comes to a close and the candle of love is lit, I believe in Santa Claus...because I believe in love!

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

 

Joy

Today, we light the candle of joy.

"Do not grieve, for the JOY of the Lord is your strength." Nehemiah 8:10

Those were the first words I read when I opened Facebook this morning.  They followed these words:

"Today, my beautiful, giving, loving mom went to be wth the Lord." These are the words of Kimberly Gilmore Bryant.  There is a beautiful photograph of Jean Gilmore, a friend and fellow servant of Christ whom I've known for more than 20 years.

My memories of Jean and her family are very dear to me.

I watched the way Jean and Nolan cared for their family and supported the ministries of the Episcopal Church of Our Saviour.  I always appreciated her sweet voice when she read the Scripture.  She and Nolan were such a great pair.

Once we worked on an event together.  I sent an email thanking the team.  For some reason, I did not copy her.  She saw me a couple of Sundays later and said she had not received a thank you.  She was looking for it in the US Mail. Since she had not receieved one, she feared I had not thanked anyone.  I learnd my lesson .

Jean often told me that she had a bag of clothes for me.  Once it was a red dress.  That dress did not work for me, but I had it shortened to become a blazer that I enjoyed for many years.

She kept hoping I was going to meet Mr Right, and when I introduced her to my boyfriend, her response was "I told you he was  out there".  

And now, Jean Gilmore has gone on to be with the Lord whom she so faithfully served.

She was truly a person of JOY - she practiced Jesus, Others, You!

I love what one of our friends wrote to Jean's family - "Bask in the love and care of your friends".  We will love and care for the Gilmores - because Jean was the epitome of doing just that.   

This is dedicated to Jean - with much love to Nolan, Kim and the rest of the Gilmore family.

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