Looking back...looking forward

Sometimes we have to see where we have been so that we can see where we are going.

So ...here we are.  The last day of 2015.

I can tell you that this past year was not without sadness.  In January I lost a dear friend when John Gates died and in December I lost my life long friend, Bobby Drashin.  Two very different men and yet two who had made a difference in my life.  I also said goodbye to two consulting opportunities. 

But there were also good things - I've reconnected with several friends from my childhood, college years and the time I spent as a pastor's wife.  My mother got to experience a dream she has had for a long time when she moved to Assisted Living and I started a part time job at the Mandarin Museum.  It was there that I fell in love with squirrels.

I know what you are thinking. ..Paula has finally lost it.

Squirrels are a reminder to me that no matter what happens, "God's got this""

This is where I spend the first hour of each day:

Sometimes a bird, sometimes a squirrel, always a lizard (or two), looking for food or just watching me...

I recently overheard a conversation - "I haven't had an actual pay check in four months", one person said.

"I would be a nervous wreck" was the reply.

"And what about the lilies of the field and the birds of the air?"

It sounded just like something I might have said..  I'm often prone to give a quick answer like that and then lay awake at night wondering...and truth be told...worrying.

I was thinking about 2016 and what lies ahead and worrying. I remembered a verse from my childhood: "Seek ye first the kingdom of God and His righteousness and all these things will be added unto you" (Matthew 6:33).  I might have memorized it but I don't think I knew what it meant.

As I thought about all of this - I checked out some other translations of those words and I found:
 
If God gives such attention to the appearance of wildflowers—most of which are never even seen—don’t you think he’ll attend to you, take pride in you, do his best for you? What I’m trying to do here is to get you to relax, to not be so preoccupied with getting, so you can respond to God’s giving. People who don’t know God and the way he works fuss over these things, but you know both God and how he works. Steep your life in God-reality, God-initiative, God-provisions. Don’t worry about missing out. You’ll find all your everyday human concerns will be met. (Matthew 6:30-33    The Message)

Which brings me back to the lizards, the birds and that cute little squirrel that climbs on my screen.  They are creatures, God's creatures true, but in my mind - they are just creatures.  They don't have a soul.  And yet who am I to judge? They seem to have a lovely time, scurrying up and down the trees, running along the window sill or sometimes standing up on the screen and staring at me.

Those little creatures remind me of this little guy from my youth:

So here's my new year's resolution -

I'm going to make an effort not to be so preoccupied with getting that I miss God's giving!

A page from their Play Book

It is Christmas Eve, 2015. 

Like the rest of you, I am remembering many Christmases Past.

Ah yes - memories... We all have them...some are good and of course some are not.

It was our first Christmas in Jacksonville.  In many ways that should have been my worst Christmas and to be honest I can tell you - it was pretty bad.

On Christmas Eve afternoon, life long friends, Bill and Anna Jean Kindred came to the side door of my parents' home.  They were Sunday School teachers at Glendale Community Church where we were worshipping at that time. 

It seems that Renee and Tray (who were 8 and 5) had shared a prayer request.  They both wanted bicycles.

And so it was that on Christmas morning, 1982, Santa Claus left two used bikes - one for each of them.  They were in great condition.

Now to my youngest children - this has never seemed the least bit strange.  Along with their older sister, they just believe if you need or want something you just ask.

Their mother needs to  take a page from their play book - or with all due respect = their "PRAYER BOOK".

Lumps of coal

If indeed Santa Claus has made a list to see who's naughty and nice, I'm afraid I'm due a Christmas Stocking filled with coal.

Now if you think I'm about to admit to some juicy bit of gossip then you may as well just wait for Downton Abbey.  I can assure you my adventures warrant no interest in juiciness.

HOWEVER, I have been feeling very jealous - and if I sat upon Santa's knee I think he would suspect my bad attitude.

You see it seems that all my friends live in prettier houses, have nicer clothes, their Christmas trees hover over many presents for the children and grandchildren...their lives seem so much more exciting.

I was really feeling all of the above when I went to church this week.  I don't think you would say I was having a pity party because most of the time I am pretty good with who I am and how my life has "turned out".  But sometimes...my life just seems . . .well. .  small.

And not just because I am so short.

And then I listened to the Scripture readings for the day:

Micah 5:2 says that Bethlehem is one of the "little clans" of Judah and yet it was in Bethlehem that the son of God would be born. 

And although we don't know of Mary's stature we do know that she was more than likely "small in spirit" because we know she was very humble.

Luke 1 tells us that Mary's reaction to the news that she was going to be the mother of our Savior was that she magnified the Lord.  That means (according to the Rev. Joe Gibbes' homily) that she was showing just how big God is.  Ftr. Joe drew an analogy of the way a magnifying glass enlarges what we can see.

Talk about hitting me right where I live.  Hum.  None of "what I don't have" matters.  And it didn't take a visit to Santa to know that.  It's my heart that counts.  It's being willing to share my small house; a cup of tea with a friend, and most of all my faith.

“My soul magnifies the Lord, and my spirit rejoices in God my Savior. . ." Luke 1:47b; 48a

The sunshine in the shadows

December 17 and 18 are very important days in the life of our family.

On December 17, 2009, my niece Leslie gave birth to her second child.  Her name - Blakelie Foster Beck. 

Leslie gave some serious thought to when Blakelie would be born.  Her granddaddy, Earl Huffingham, was born on December 18.  He had died in September of that year.

But Blakelie needed her own birthday.

For the next four years, four months and four days Blakelie was the essence of sunshine in our lives.  She was one of those people who lit up the room when she walked into it.

On April 21, 2014 I received this text --- "She is with Jesus".  I responded to my sister - what? And I got back - "she died".

My last blog was called Joy in the Journey and I shared the news of the sudden death of my childhood friend, Bobby Drashin.  I ended the blog with the fact that although I think it is necessary to find joy in all circumstances, I also think it is difficult.  As I have processed Bobby's passing, joined his family and friends to say goodbye and remembered that incredible smile, I realized that like Blakelie, Bobby could light up a room.

Later today I am joining in a celebration of  Blakelie's life.  We will eat cupcakes, light lanterns, release balloons.  I was actually grieving for my friend, when I realized I should participate in this activity.  I believe it will be healing for me.

And in a way I am celebrating Bobby's life and the life of our daddy - who would have turned 94 on December 18.  He could also light up a room.

I think the memory of the three of these people are something that gives me . ..sunshine in the shadows!

Joy in the Journey

"A reading from Philippians", I stood before a small group of worshippers on Sunday evening and began to read the Scripture appointed for the third Sunday of Advent - the day we lit the Candle of Joy.

My afternoon had been a bit futile.  Planner that I am, I had saved the afternoon to write. . .but no words came to my brain much less to my keyboard.  It was my week to serve communion at the rail and here I was.

"Rejoice in the Lord and again I say Rejoice in the Lord." I could hear my children  singing, 

O Rejoice in the LORD  He makes no mistake, 

He knoweth the end of each path that I take,
For when I am tried  And purified,  I shall come forth as gold."

 

Certainly not the time for an earworm.  Listen up, Paula.

 

"The apostle Paul was in prison when he wrote the words in today's Epistle", the Rev. Karen Booth began her sermon.  "He was encouraging us to find joy in the bad times".

I remembered that my mother always says "we rejoice in the Lord - not in the circumstances".

Earlier that day I had learned of the death of my childhood friend Bobby.   I don't know if he was my first boyfriend, but I do know that he was the first boy to give me flowers (that my mother watched him "steal" from our neighbor's yard).  

I was having a difficult time, putting my head around his death and knowing that today I will go to that same Jewish cemetery where I was with him when he buried his mother.  One of our childhood friends called me to say that once Bobby told her he would become a gentile if I would marry him.

If you knew how much Bobby valued his heritage you would understand that to be a BIG deal.  Of course if you know me you know that his becoming a gentile is not the issue.  And in case you are wondering we talked about that difference many times.

And I keep thinking of the fact that I kept meaning to see if we could meet for lunch and I never did.  I hadn't seen him in 18 months. Although I know he didn't "take care of himself", I didn't know he was ill.

Unlike another high school friend who I have only recently connected with on Facebook.  She is quite ill and it is this post that I planned to focus on - for the third Sunday of Advent:

". . .Just want all of you to know how thankful I am for your prayers. God is answering them! I feel the power of them, as many of you tell me you have prayed for us to have peace, strength, comfort, courage, hope, healing, joy in the journey, and grace when pain arises.

I planned to write about how important it is to find Joy in the journey.  I still think it is important - I just think it's difficult!

Finding something that was lost (Unexpected Blessings #5)

Somehow I have gotten quite used to this.

 

My mother was giving me an account of the time since our  last visit as we traveled to enjoy Thanksgiving with my children.

 

She began to fidget with her seat belt and was digging into her pocket and I was frankly getting annoyed.

 

"I don't want you to have a wreck", she said.

 

And she finally said  - "and this was on the floor".

 

Those words make no sense to you do they?

 

A couple of weeks ago my mother lost something VERY valuable.

 

The remote control that she uses to help her hearing aid work better.  She can phase out the noise of others when she wants to hear just one person; she can increase the volume of that person.

 

It has been an INVALUABLE part of our lives.

 

She just knew she dropped it at the Mandarin Museum a  couple of weeks ago.  I looked and my friend, Sandy, helped me look and it just wasn't there.

 

Obviously I did not have a wreck, but I can tell you I was more than overjoyed as she showed me that remote - she found it almost accidently because of another issue.  Truly one of the good things that can come from something unpleasant (a ceramic piece had been broken).

 

And here's what I learned...when we find something that we lost we are extremely happy.

 

Have you ever lost a friend?

 

I have - and I just hate it when that happens.

 

But another thing that happened to me yesterday is that I was reminded of a friendship that began 50 years ago - that led to marriage and three outstanding children.  That friendship was fractured for many years...but yesterday as Ray Parker and his wife, Ruth, and those children and I sat at a Thanksgiving table and shared memories - of our past when Ray and I were married, of the children's memories when they would visit him after our divorce and even memories of some of the homes we had shared, I realized that I had found something that had been lost.

 

Which gives me hope that I can rediscover the joy of friendships lost.  That would be a real unexpected blessing.  Now I just have to take the necessary steps to reclaim those blessings. 

 

If my mother can find the hearing aid remote . . .etc, etc... The season of Joy, Hope, Peace and Love  is upon us. Surely, "God will make a way!"

 

 

 

 

My greatest UNEXPECTED Blessing

So - wouldn't you know that when I am thinking of unexpected blessings I could find one that has the word EXPECTING in it.

May 1971 - already a very difficult year that I won't share the details of - just believe me it was hard.  Things were not just right so one of the women in our small country church in Bakewell, Tennessee told me I should go see her doctor, an OB-GYN.

"Is it fun to have a baby?", I asked.

"It's exciting", was his response.

What he should have said is "it's a blessing".  For so it was, 44 years ago on Thanksgiving night that I knew I was in labor.  I remember I thought - History is repeating itself.  I knew that on November 26, 1901  my great grandmother, Marianna Michau Mercer, had given birth to her last child, a daughter she would name Iva Pauline.   And here I was about to give birth to my first.

Was my baby going to be born on my grandma Nesmith's 70th birthday? She had died in May of that year - just 10 days after I learned that I was "EXPECTING".

Grandma Nesmith had spent her life "blessing others".  She had a great capacity to love and had  been one of the strong examples of life in a "parsonage" as my granddaddy had been the pastor of Glendale Community Church until 1963 - when another outstanding minister's wife, entered my life in the person of Othella Elliott.

Grandma's death was one of the things that had made the Spring of 1971 difficult for me.  My mother told me that she went to grandma's grave on November 26th.  I lived in Chattanooga so she had no idea that I was in labor but she said as she brushed some leaves from the marker that day, she was aware that new life was coming.

Rebecca Lynn was born at 4:53 that afternoon. 

Becca has always been glad that her name is not Rebecca Pauline (however, now I think Pauline Rebecca would have been a great name).  She never knew Grandma Nesmith, however as I watch her as a mother and a teacher, not to mention friend, sister and aunt, I think she is like her.  Why?    Becca has a great capacity to love others.

And although at the time it seemed like almost a disaster - that I was going to have a baby - I can tell you without reservation - Rebecca Lynn is the greatest UNEXPECTED BLESSING in my life!

Too Blest for Stress (Unexpected Blessings #3)

The peace of God, which passeth all understanding, keep your hearts and minds in the knowledge and the love of God, and of his Son Jesus Christ our Lord: And the Blessing of God Almighty, the Father, the Son and the Holy Ghost, be amongst you and remain with you always

I was raised with the words - bless, blessed  and we always asked the blessing at mealtime.

One of the blessings I can look back on are the friends our family had because our dad was a Gideon.   Sometimes those friends lived in other states - like Rick and Kathy Darrow and the Sanders crew.  Kathy and I have been friends for 60 years.  And oh the crush I had on Sonny Sanders!  One Thanksgiving, the Huffinghams were visiting the Sanders in Bamberg, South Carolina when we learned that the supper menu included turkey soup.  My father was not impressed until my little brother said the blessing that night and thanked God for the turkey toup.

Even when we don't really like something it is good to give thanks.

When I met my new friend, Karyn, at the Care Partners Conference  the other day, she was very open about what she is doing in order to care for her husband.  Yes, she gets tired, very tired; Yes she is sad when she realizes he will be on a heavenward journey soon and Yes they have made most of their plans.

"He is a financial planner by trade", she said "And he took care of that well.  I have no worries".

That's good.  It's not always the case.

"But the best thing about his illness is what it's done to our relationship.  We talk more, we listen more and we pray more."

"I feel like his illness has been a blessing".

I left the conference feeling so uplifted.  I guess you might say I felt BLESSED - which I didn't expect to feel when I registered for that conference. Doesn't it have to be "spiritual" to be blessed?

"This person (name and email address) is interested in becoming a volunteer".  The note had been left on my desk at the Mandarin Museum.

So I sent Toppy Carter an email and an application and told him he could drop it by or mail it.

Within a couple of days a brown envelope arrived in my mailbox.  The return address said Toppy Carter, III. 

Hum - this man is a great candidate.  It even listed his reference as his assistant. He had an assistant?  And then I read the attached resume and the words "Quadriplegic" about jumped off the page.

A few days later it was my heart that was jumping when I saw a man in a wheelchair coming up the ramp at the museum. I'll never forget meeting Toppy Carter and his assistant Cory Hutchcraft..  And now I have gotten to know them a little and I am duly moved.  I have watched the way Cory cares for Toppy and been delighted to hear what Toppy thinks we might do for the museum.  He even brought us a CD of Civil War music to play while people look at the artifacts from the Maple Leaf and learn about Harriett Beecher Stowe.

Toppy was born with cerebral palsy in the early 50's.  He has been dependent on others for all of his 50 plus years.  He knows no other way. 

"Sure, I have bad days", he said. "But, really I have it better than most".

It's meeting people like Karyn and Toppy that remind me I really am "too blest for stress".

The words at the beginning of my thoughts to words to a keyboard to Cyberspace to your eyes and your heart (quite a definition for a blog isn't it?) are often used at the close of Eucharist (or Communion) which is in fact a way to give thanks to God.  They are also words I choose to wish for anyone who is reading this.  As my dear friend, Father John Owens says "be blessed"!

 

And suddenly I have a friend (Unexpected Blessings #2)

If I told you about all my friends and how we met and where our friendship is today -  this would become a novel.  I'm hesitating to post this because I don't want any of you that I don't mention to be hurt and feel like I don't value you.  However - this is about finding a friend when I wasn't expecting to...

Tamra Smith and I met when we were in a secretaries group. We always raised our eyebrows or rolled our eyes  at the stodgy women who insisted on following Roberts Rules of Order. That was  almost 20 years ago...the group has long disbanded, but we still raise our eyebrows, roll our eyes - sometimes at the people we see in Bob Evans when we regularly meet for coffee.

 

And then there's Virginia Pillsbury.  A chance meeting for sure. We were both at a Duval County Medical Society meeting.  She was a writer (first reason I liked her), a Christian and to my surprise Episcopalian.  And the strangest thing is that she really hadn't wanted to go to that event. We wasted no time agreeing that we should have coffee...something we have been doing now for four years. 

 

During the summer of 2014 I started noticing an attractive couple as they went to the rail for  communion. There was just something about them that I was drawn to. I did some digging and found out their names...and asked them to help with an event and ta da - Richard and Ann Stanley became my dear friends!

 

Earlier this year, I went to work part time at the Mandarin Museum and Historical Society.  Talk about unexpected blessings.  Sandy Arpen and the Board of Directors there have been so welcoming - and I love working with the volunteers and then Keith Holland introduced me to a squirrel and a ship that sunk - and suddenly I have a new appreciation for nature and  history.

My family teases me about the fact that I meet someone one day and am having coffee with them the next.

 

It happened again a few days ago.

 

I was at a CarePartners Conference on the UNF Campus.

 

Fingers busily typing a text, concentrating on what I absolutely had to tell my friend, I barely heard a woman ask "Is this seat taken?"

 

"You must be a very busy person", she said.  I must have seemed very rude.

 

I put my cell phone away and we exchanged niceties.

 

Karyn is a retired nurse and was at the conference in search of some CEU points.  Or so she thought - until she started telling me about her husband who is ill...and she realized she was really at this conference because she is a caregiver.

 

"I'm probably here because I need a friend"

 

Cha Ching - are there any words I would rather hear?

 

Hum - I found a friend and guess what - so did they!

 

 

 .

Unexpected Blessings

". . . the thankful heart will find, in every hour, some heavenly blessings.”

― Henry Ward Beecher

You don't need words from me to tell you this - It's Thanksgiving week. Newspaper ads, Facebook posts, grocery stores teeming with people.

Nor do you need me to admonish you about being thankful.  That would be way too presumptuous of me, now wouldn't it?  And if you read my blog with any regularity you know what I am thankful for - my heritage (mother and daddy), my children (Becca, Renee and Tray) and their mates (Dale, Wally and Kristen) and those amazing, awesome, glowing, terrific, effervescent, caring, radiant people who call me Grand or Grandma.

And who can ignore the fact that my faith, family and friendships are so important in my life.  After all that's what I write about most. 

But as I thought about the words I wanted to share this week, I wanted to do something a little different so I looked for some quotes and I came upon the one at the beginning of this blog.

Then I let my mind ruminate on those words and it suddenly came to me - I have had so many UNEXPECTED BLESSINGS. . .

So I'm going to tell you about some of them.  This is the first - and there will be four to come.  I know this means I'll end up posting on the 27th, the day AFTER THANKSGIVING, but wait there's a method....

Here's the first -

It's no secret that while I love to dance...I don't like to dance - at least I don't like to have to follow the rules when it comes to dancing.  I just prefer moving to the music.  With that in mind, I like to go with my friend, Deborah when she is going someplace to dance because I really just enjoy the people watching part of it.

And so it was this past Saturday night.

There was this man...and when he heard that I don't dance, he responded with "I don't either, I just like to watch".

And here's where the unexpected blessing came in.

There were probably 50 opportunities to dance and it seemed that I could barely go back to our table before I was BACK on the dance floor with this man.

The evening ended and we said good night and most likely goodbye.

It really was a fun time and I think one of those unexpected blessings....

More to come.

Just the perfect BLEND SHIP

November 18, 1998

My parents, my brother in law, Robert Williams and I returned to my home in Colonial Point.  We had just completed the painful task of choosing a casket for Rich Suhey.

Mike and Diane Russell were in my living room.   He had been my friend for many years and his marriage to Diane had given me another dear friend.

"Aren't you supposed to be on a plane to Chicago?", I asked.

Mike hitched his pants (a habit I dearly love) and said "We're not going". It was a true testament to our friendship. And it is one of my most precious memories from that time in my life.

I don't know how it works - this friendship thing. 

Sometimes it's because of commonality - family connections, vocation, avocation, children, faith...so many of my friendships have been formed in the workplace or a civic group, at church or Bible study, because our children were friends. 

Sometimes it's because of chemistry and I don't just mean the kind that is used when people "fall in love" although I have had more than one friend that I could say was because of the chemistry, but I won't go there.

Except to say that Rich Suhey was my friend FIRST.  And this November 18 sentence from Simple Abundance, a Daybook of Comfort and Joy by Sarah Ban Breathnach describes our friendship and subsequent love story perfectly:

"Friends are people who help you be more yourself...more the person you were meant to be" (Merle Shain). 
Rich Suhey believed I could do so many things that I had never had a clue to try -- once I even piloted his boat (with my parents in the galley).  His encouragement continues to be one of the driving forces in my life.

Please don't think I  live under an illusion that Rich Suhey was some sort of saint.  He was a man; who made mistakes.  It just happens that he really helped me become who I am today.

One of those things is a friend. 

About 10 days before Rich died, I was invited to join some high school friends for dinner. We were gathering to support a dear friend whose father was very ill.  I hesitated, probably saying I couldn't afford it.  Rich's response to me was that I couldn't afford not to go.  From that dinner evolved a monthly gathering of those same friends - one that continues to encourage me.

There is no doubt in my mind but that I learned and grew through my relationship with Rich Suhey, including what I have experienced since his death.  Talk about the value of friendship...I think I am a better friend because of him.

I so much understand the value of friendship - and the importance of nurturing those friendships.  In the same November 18 posting from Simple Abundance... is this statement "friends are the continuous thread that help us hold our lives together."

This blog is already much longer than I normally post so I'm not going to name those friends who are the thread in my life...let's just say one could not find this thread in a fabric store.  Unless you found something called - Blend Ship!

Iva Lou's Babbling Brook

The idea was first born in our hearts in 2010.  Our very social mother would do great in assisted living.

Daddy had died in  September.  Mother had spent much of her 85 plus years involved - in church, PTA, the auxiliary of the Gideons, Christian Women's Club - not to mention raising four children, helping us raise ours and all the while being a wonderful wife to our father.

So we started the process - one that took more than five years before it came to pass.  In September of this year, Iva Lou (a name she now likes) became a resident at Brookdale Mandarin.

And now it seems that every single thing that has ever happened in her life has led her to this place. She is loved and she loves.  We have to caution her not to take care of people as easily as she wants to....no need to her to fall...when helping keep someone else from falling.  She is not overjoyed when I remind her of that.  It just seems so natural to her - the ultimate caregiver.

During the time that my mother lived with me, she "longed" to walk down the street and meet our neighbors.  That couldn't happen.  However, once she got to the halls of Brookdale Mandarin she has found great joy in meeting and helping other residents.

A dear friend of mine sent me this quote:  "What life brings to us is dependent on what we bring to life".  Those words are so reflective of my mother.  And as the eldest of her children I believe I can speak for the four of us in saying we are extremely happy that she has this opportunity to be in assisted living where she can continue to love others ... and show forth God's love ...the way we have seen throughout our lives.

One thing about our mother that we have always known to be true - she always thought it would be nice to have a porch - no matter where she lived and she always wants to have a sharing group...

Sorry mother - no way for a porch at Brookdale...however...we are happy that you get to have that sharing group - Iva Lou's Babbling Brook. 

Life has truly brought to my mother - what she has brought to life.

...For those who served

For some it was a sense of duty, for others it was because they had no choice.  And for still others, it was because they knew it was time to grow up.

Tom Brokaw called them The Greatest Generation.  They would be the ones who felt a sense of duty, the young men and women who signed up with Uncle Sam in the late thirties and early forties to serve our nation.

One of them would be the first from his community to enlist in 1941 a few months before Pearl Harbor.  He would take his girl to what they later called their Sweetheart Tree and give her an engagement ring on his 20th birthday, just days after that fateful day in Pearl Harbor - and just a month before he climbed aboard a train and was off to serve his country.  He did get to come home for a short leave in August 1942 and marry his childhood sweetheart.

For the next four years, it was all about a war - him in the Pacific and her in Jacksonville.

In late 1945 he came home and they began to plan for their future, built a house and decided it was time to start a family.

That is how I became a baby boomer.

By the time I was in high school and college, many of my generation were far less that patriotic.  They were the ones who went reluctantly.  Some of them even became what was known as a draft dodger. They did not feel that same sense of patriotism that our fathers had experienced.  One man I know, whose father was a navy recruiter, fled to Canada,

Rich Suhey hoped he wouldn't have to go abroad. so he joined the National Guard.  He spent much of his time of service in Missouri doing something that was connected with the building of bridges.  But he served - and when he died my dad wanted him to have a flag on his casket.

I didn't realize the significance of that until yesterday.

My favorite veteran spoke to my mother's sharing group.  He was one who joined the Army because he knew he needed to grow up.  He had been gently nudged by a beautiful blonde that it was time for him to get his act together.  As that veteran's mother I can tell you I thank God every day for that wonderful girl and her encouragement.

One of the key points in Tray's talk was of the comradery that he and his granddaddy and my nephews share.  Well of course they share a bond - daddy loved his "boys".  But Tray said it was more than that.

"It was because we served".

So on this Veteran's Day - when daddy and Rich are not here for me to thank, but others, like Tray and Chad and Brad are ... I am grateful for those who served.

It's what grandmothers do. . .

"What are you reading?" I asked my 10 year-old granddaughter, Allie.

"Kisses from Katie",  she responded. I was a bit taken aback and it must have shown on my face.

"Oh no, Grand", she said. "It's about a girl who has an orphanage in Uganda and some day I'm going to go there and work in it."

So I got the book from the library and read it. I understood easily the reasons my second grandchild was enamored.

She was 12 the next time I heard about Uganda. Still passionate. And then I heard she had told her mother that it was time for the two of them to take a mission trip and that appreciating her fervor, my daughter, Renee Blain talked with Josué Calzada, First Baptist Temple Terrace's mission pastor. The logical step was an invitation to Allie to join a special task force as part of their Missions Committee with an emphasis on Orphan Care.

 

And maybe next August, Renee and Allie would go on a mission trip -

Except when Renee talked with the Florida Baptist Children's Home she was given the name of a representative who works with Orphan's Heart and their International Child Care Division....and there are two spots on the March team.

This week while Renee and her husband, Wally, were in their couples' Bible Study, Allie and her older sister, Abbie went to  work. I first read Allie's blog on Abbie's Facebook page. Ah technology.

They need to raise a lot of money for this to happen - and a lot in a short amount of time - $4,000 which is a little more than half of what is needed for both Allie and Renee to travel to Uganda has to be raised by December 9.

So I have shared Allie's blog (which if you click on the word WORK you will go to) and I am going to do what grandmothers do - I am asking for your support - first of all your prayer support. This is a huge step of faith for Allie - and maybe even a "huger" for her mom and dad and grandparents. However, we know that Allie is a child of God and what He wills for her is what we want. And, of course, your financial support is appreciated. Please send me a private message through Facebook or post a comment as noted at the end of the blog and I will send you the necessary information.  And when you read Allie's blog, you will see some other ways to help.

Of course, this is a big step, a big scary step. However I really like what Pastor Josue told Renee - and her family:

"Just keep walking until God closes the door"

Online donations:
https://fbchomes.ejoinme.org/MyPages/OHTripDonation2014/tabid/521976/Default.aspx

 

 

 

 

Sheliah's Glasses

I didn't know her well...just as the mother of my precious friend, Holly and the grandmother of Lexie, Avery and Sidney Fields who are among my favorite young people at the Episcopal Church of Our Saviour.

But when I attended Sheliah Page's memorial service I learned so many special things about her that I wished I had taken an opportunity to know her better.

Her daughter, Heidi, remembered her mother  helping another family in need and one of her neighbors told me how she gave up her parking place when the neighbor returned from lung surgery, still having much difficulty breathing.  This was an especially endearing gift, since Shelia herself had COPD. 

And then her daughter, Molly, the one Sheliah  wisely gave up for adoption but had been reunited with earlier this year, told me that her adopted mother had told her that it was important to Sheliah  that her baby be raised in the church and that is exactly what happened.  So much that Molly chose to be a teacher in a Christian school.

One of the neatest things about the memorial was a display of reading glasses.  There must have been 50 pair.  And if you were fortunate enough to be looking at it when one of her girls were also there you heard this:

"Take a pair of the glasses" And I did.


Earlier that day I had received a message from my friend Dr. Keith Holland: Stich is dead and Pascal is dying.

Six words and yet a depth of emotion. .  And if you read my blog regularly- you know that I am talking about the squirrels that Keith  had been caring for after they were left to fend for themselves when a hawk got their mama and they fell to the ground in the yard of one of the Jacksonville dentist's  patients.

Talk about getting attached to an animal.  Keith is grappling with questions like "what did I do?" and "what could I have done differently?.

I think what he did was give a little girl an opportunity to learn first hand about life - and death. 

And that helps her with living.

And of course, both of these things happened on what we celebrate as All Saints Sunday.  The day set aside for "remembering".  I know I don't have to have a day set aside.  I always remember!

And now that it is November I am remembering the birth of two little girls who call me mom and  have grown into dedicated Christian women.  When I was growing up and actually until I was 24 years old, it was in November that we celebrated my maternal grandmother, Pauline Nesmith's birthday.

It is also the month that I got that telephone call and heard a doctor say "your husband did not survive".

"It is both natural and proper to grieve for those loved ones who pass beyond our sight", Keith said in his message about the squirrels.

And it is good to have something tangible to help us remember - I have a photo of the squirrels, Rich Suhey's name, and Sheliah's glasses.

Cover letter circa 2015

I loved The Intern starring Robert DeNiro.  He has really softened through the years from being the tough guy to a man with a sensitive heart.

The movie begins with DeNiro's character, Ben, telling us about his life which was good and full but now he finds himself at loose ends.  Travel, grandchildren. yoga...none of this has been fulfilling enough to prevent a desire for something with purpose.

As we watch, we realize that he is making a video of himself.  This is apparently 2015's answer to the cover letter.  Of course he gets the job - as intern - which means he is not going to get paid.

Many of us can relate to this.   You know what they are saying - "60 is the new 40" so must of us who are beyond 65 are feeling like the Peggy Lee song, "Is that all there is?".
 

This is because we have worked hard all of our lives and rather than enjoy staying at home, we believe we still have something to offer. Yoga, bridge and lunch with friends is not enough.
 

DeNiro's character in The Intern appears to be comfortable without any extra income.  He can be a traditional intern with no remuneration.  That's only in the movies.  Many of us who are on Social Security need the extra income that a part time position  provides.

Perhaps you have seen the "Life Reimagined" AARP-sponsored spots on television.  One of them features a man who becomes an UBER driver.  That's not me.  Oh, there's one thing the man says that I can identify with - he needs the funds to pay for the fun things he wants to do.

I do need the extra money.  But it's more than that for me.  I like having a purpose, a place to go, the satisfaction of interaction with others.

 

So this morning I crafted a cover letter that basically said what I have just written.  I am not quite savy enough to film myself.

 

Besides - words are cheap.  I'm pretty sure the equipment to create selfie version of a cover letter is not.

Faith, Family, Friends

I am often asked - what do you like to write about?

My answer is usually - faith, family and friends - not necessarily in that order.

Those three things - my faith, my family and my friends are what I would consider paramount in my life.

Every Sunday I repeat the words to the Nicene Creed - affirming my belief in Jesus as the Son of God who was crucified, died and rose again.  That's the basic tenet of my faith.  I have friends and even family who do not agree with what I believe.

That's their prerogative.

It has been well reported that the Episcopal Church has now adopted the practice of performing/blessing same sex marriages.  I am one who does not agree with that.  I believe marriage is a sacrament and should be between a man and a woman.

That's my prerogative.

I'm a Notary Public.  I can perform marriage ceremonies.  It's one of my favorite things to do.

Several months ago I was asked to perform the marriage of two women.  I said no.

This afternoon I am going to that wedding.

It's because of that "friends" part of who I am.

The mother of one of the brides is one of my dearest friends.  There is no way that I would miss sharing the joy she feels today.

Besides - this in no way changes the fact that I believe Jesus is the Son of God. . .et cetera, et cetera, et cetera!

All they need is love. . .

Okay I know the name of the song is "All you need is love".

However.

"I have killed more squirrels that you can imagine," Dr. Keith Holland told me.  "I always think of them as tree rats.  They get the seeds I put out for the birds.  Once they even destroyed five small trees I had planted", he continued.

Keith was telling me this as he gently lifted one of the baby squirrels that he is caring for.

He is a dentist; not a vet.

When Sandy Arpen, the Chairman of the Board at the Mandarin Museum, told me that Keith was coming to help with some Maple Leaf archives that he has recently borrowed to display at the museum, and that he was bringing the squirrels, I was much more than curious.

I have heard of rescue dogs and rescue cats and although I am not really an animal lover, I think they are cute and appreciate the way people are adopting them and caring for them.

But "rescue squirrels".

It seems a hawk had gotten the mama squirrel and the nest fell into the yard where a nine year old patient of the dentist lived.  Her grandfather knew that Keith had recently been unsuccessful in his attempt to save another squirrel.

"I think this is my second chance", said Keith.

And so it was on that Friday that I watched as Keith filled a syringe with strawberry flavored Pedialyte and slowly fed Stich  After ten syringes had been dispensed into her tiny little mouth, he gently washed her face and handed her to me.

She was wrapped in a towel and Keith told me to stroke her head.  He said "any creature just needs to be loved".

He followed the same procedure with Pascal and then we put them back into their climate controlled cage - which includes a heating pad, a thermometer, a few twigs from a tree's branch and a little cloth hutch where they sleep. 

I watched as they played a bit and then snuggled in to the hutch.

Keith and the Maple Leaf divers were at the Museum the next day as a part of our participation in Smithsonian Day when all of our buildings were open.  I used to take my kids to work with me -- sometimes I take my mother - I never have taken an animal.  However, there was Keith with that little cage.

"It is necessary that they are fed every two hours", he said.  "So, they have to go with me".

I must have passed muster when I held Stitch because on Saturday I got to feed her.

And then I asked Keith - what happens when they outgrow the cage?  I was really saying when will it be time to let them go?

"It's almost time for them to go back to the first person who loved them, my little patient," he said.

I doubted that the little girl would care for the squirrels quite like my new friend.  I suspect that her parents will encourage her to let them go back into their natural habitat.

When I accepted the job at the Museum, I had no clue what I was getting in for.  Every day there's something new, fun, interesting.

It's been said that a person who lives alone should have a pet.  Am I going to rush right out and rescue a squirrel?  Well - no.

Neither am I going to get friendly with the black racer that lives under the porch at the museum.

The wisdom to know the difference

"I'm not like you," she said.  "My memories are all bad".

I thought about it for a while. 

Are my memories all good?

Hum.  I remembered that when my first husband and I were going to get a divorce I could only remember the GOOD memories.  That made it more painful.  I was grieving what was good and I forgot that there had, of course, been some bad.

Strange as this may seem, I prayed and asked God to help me remember the bad and when I did..."oh help"...what a time I experienced.  Not pretty.

But by and by the memories leveled out.  Things that I remembered in a bad light became the springboard for me to change something.  Somehow through that process as well as many other times of reacting and transitioning into a different phase in my life I learned to see the good in bad situations.

Early in the "losing my husband" through divorce stage a friend gave me the book When Bad Things Happen to Good People, another friend gave me How to Survive the Loss of a Love and someone else shared For Those Who Hurt.  All three of those books have remained a part of my library - now for more than 33 years.

Those books plus lots of prayer and support have been helpful - more than once in my life.  The words and actions of my friends have been a comfort.  The love and involvement in the lives of my children by family were paramount in the Christ-honoring  lives that I see them living today.

I needed the serenity to accept the loss of one husband to divorce and another to death.  I could not change the circumstances.  I needed the serenity to accept the fact that I had made many mistakes in both cases and I could not go back and re-do what I had done.  I needed to be forgiven and I needed to forgive myself.

So yes I have some bad memories.  Am I being a Pollyanna?  Worse than that - Am I being dishonest? 

Well actually what I am doing is practicing what my mother said her mother taught her "You don't have to put all your dirty laundry on the line."

Just know that what I try to practice is having the wisdom to know the difference!

To change the things I can....

It's all about courage.

That's something the lion in the Wizard of Oz and I have in common.  I probably have more than he had but there are some areas where I have very little.

Like the dance floor.

I like to dance.  I wish I were a better dancer.  I have a little rhythm - I think.  But what's the deal?

It's the memories.

It was against our religion to dance when I was growing up.  The sixth grade graduation party, a pretty dress, and me standing against the wall.  The time someone I had a crush on asked me to dance and I didn't know where my arms were supposed to be.  The fact that I was always clumsy.  Or that I never learned.

My friend, Deborah absolutely loves to dance.  In fact to quote her: "It's as if you opened my head and poured a bucket of happiness into my being".  So it's fun to go with her and watch her be happy - as I sit and sip and listen as the music beckons - sort of like those old  Calgon commercials.  Sometimes people appear to be taken away.

And so it was on a recent Sunday afternoon when I went with Deb to a dance - her on the dance floor and me watching all the dancers...

The band was playing a Polka...

And it all began to come back - I remembered my cousin, Rick's wedding to Cheryl now more than 30 years ago.  The reception was in a huge hall - and everyone was dancing -- their dance of choice - the Polka. Someone asked me to dance - so I did.

My question to my brothers - did I look silly? was answered only as brothers can - "Well....yeah".

The issue was crystal clear.  It's all those memories.

Earlier that day a friend recalled the angst she still feels because her parents did not have a good relationship.  That afternoon I remembered her words - "But you know I am 63 years old and it's time for me to let that go".

Let that go - - -change what I can - - - HUM.

So the next time a gentleman asked - I said sure - and was swept onto the dance floor.  And then there was another...and as we left the party I said to Deborah - When's the next time we are going to do this?

I just need to have the courage to change.

Things we cannot change

You know the words well - God grant me the serenity to accept the things we cannot change...

Sometimes we make a decision and then have the option to change our minds.  That's a good thing. Sometimes we make a change in our lives - that we don't like - or that seems to have been a bad decision.

I was chatting with a couple of mothers whose children are under 6.  One of them showed me a photo of a darling little girl whose long curls, the ones I had admired just a few days before, were missing.

It reminded me of the day that Becca, aged 6, brought me a handful of her hair and said "Mommy, can you glue this back?"

I'm sure that at that time I needed serenity.

"No, but it will grow back" and if you have seen my first born you know that it did.

But then there are some things that we just cannot change.  One of those things would be our words - spoken in anger, disgust, sometimes in fear.

At the Florida versus East Carolina University football game this past Saturday, no doubt there was anger, disgust and maybe even a little fear.

This was supposed to be a cake walk for the Gators - and it was not.   There was disgust, anger and maybe a little fear.  Former Gator "great" Fred Taylor said his son, Kelvin, the one who was the object of Florida coach, Jim McElwain's wrath following an unsportsmanlike penalty, was angry that he wasn't getting enough playing time.  That didn't make it right.  McElwain is sorry that he was so disgusted and all of Florida nation at that time was surely fearful that the game was about to go the other way..and God forbid, we would lose.

Words - we can't take them back.

And in this case, a media frenzy ensued.

Fortunately no one really cares about some words I wish I hadn't spoken.

As I was going through the grief process after my daddy died in 2009, I thought back to many of the words we shared.  Once he told me that he didn't like my hair - and I thought - do I wear my hair for you, daddy?  And I was irritated that he thought I did.  As I was missing him, I thought why in the world did I let that bother me?

Another time when I didn't like the fact that my house smelled like bacon when I came home and showed my distaste he got after me for having what he "loved to call " a short fuse.  And I shook my finger in his face and said something like "Daddy, you have got to stop saying that to me".

Six years down the pike, I think back to those words and feel pretty yukky.

I suspect Jim McElwain felt pretty yukky after the game when his mother chided him for his actions at the football game.

There are some things we just cannot change - but if we practice thinking before we speak - at least we have a chance.  Oh yes - that's where the courage comes in.

Not pretty when you cry

"Don't call too often - just every day" - her words to me.

"Whatever you do, don't cry on the campus - you are not pretty when you cry" - my words to her.

And so it was as my parents took me to college - 50 years ago this week.

Who would have ever imagined that I would choose to go to college 50 miles north of Chattanooga, Tennessee?  If you knew me then - the girl my pastor described as quiet and reserved and a bit of a homebody -  you know that was a huge step.

However, it was the right step.  For before we even made it to the campus that Friday in September, 1965, there was this really cute guy in a cafeteria ...

And a friendship ensued and a marriage and three children and a divorce - but the friendship has remained and as I often unashamedly say "have you met my children?"

Interesting turn of events . . .

September, 2015

My mother (the her who I didn't want to cry on the campus) has moved to assisted living. 

At one point I thought - this was like sending one of my children to college - and then I thought no it's like when they went to kindergarten.  I wondered - would she remember to take her meds, would she like the food enough to eat it and would she make any friends?

Guess what - she's got that meds thing down, she eats and every time I visit there's a story about a new best friend.

It's as if her whole life led her to this experience.

I don't call her every day (I do usually send her an email or a Facebook message) and although she has shed a few tears at some point I have come to realize nothing keeps her from being pretty.
 
Going to college in Dayton, Tennessee was definitely the right thing for me.  In addition to meeting and marrying Ray Parker, there was a teacher whose words I credit with beginning another journey for me...

"Paula," Mr. Alan Winkler said "You are a gifted writer".

Hum. . .

The path is leading where???

One of my all-time favorite movies is Out of Africa, starring Robert Redford and Meryl Streep.  Ask my children how tired they got of hearing me say "I had a farm in Africa".

I saw the movie about the time I was deciding it was not the end of the world to be a single mother and that somehow we were going to succeed.  If you have met my children, you know that I was most right to believe that.

I recently  bought a new lap top.  The name of the default screen saver is Footpaths.  There are ten shots of paths.  There's one in a meadow, one that is beside a large body of water one through a dessert, one through a forest. . . etc.

Each of these scenes share a commonality. No path has an end.

Who knows where that footpath is leading?

Back to Out of Africa, do you remember when Karen went to see Bror at the end of the first part of the movie?  Her last words “Perhaps he knew, as I did not, that the Earth was made round so that we would not see too far down the road.”

If Karen had known - would she have still made the trip to see her unfaithful husband?

Which brings to mind a question - "If you knew then what you know now would you take a different path?"

When I am asked that question my answer is no - I would have done it all again.

Yet still. . .I like to know where my path is leading.

We all know this about me - I am the queen of planners.   I start planning the next event before the ink is dry on the invitations.

And yet I know that I must learn. . .

In one of my daily readings this morning I found these words that seem to magnify what I keep hearing, feeling, experiencing:

", , ,we're not supposed to see too far ahead.  We're not supposed to know.  Don't forget that the forbidden fruit in the Garden of Eden was from the Tree of Knowledge"(Sarah Ban Breathnach in A Daybook of Comfort and Joy.

I don't know where the path is leading.

I guess that's where FAITH comes in!

An Angel came . . .

It has happened to me more than once. 

I've been struggling with an issue, disappointment, disillusionment or just down right hurt feelings and taken that pain to bed only to be awakened with the realization that someone was talking to me.

Okay - not verbally - just a feeling..

August, 1977 - 38 years ago.

My third child was about to be born.  The first two (both little girls) had come into this world very easily.  Becca at 9 lbs 2 oz was born about 3 hours after we got to the hospital and it took Renee (10.4 and 22 inches long) an hour longer. 

Surely this one would be as easy.

Wrong.  After a day of labor, when the doctor realized that baby was just not going to be born otherwise, a Caesarian Section brought Raymond Lee Parker, III into this world.  Somehow he had managed to turn enough times to get the cord wrapped around his neck. 

As I began to wake up  - I learned that I had a little boy and that he had been taken to Neonatal Intensive Care Unit.  The cord, his head seemed a little large, I am a border line diabetic and he weighed 10.2.  To the doctors - reason enough.

I was very ill for a couple of days and couldn't go to see him.  It was the strangest experience imaginable. I missed my little girls; I was still in much pain and taking lots of antibiotics.  It might be the worst three or four days of my life.

And then the time came.  My husband wheeled me through the corridors and into an elevator.  We arrived at the unit and the nurses brought my baby to the glass (I still had a fever; I couldn't go in).  I  felt nothing.  When I write that I feel so strange.  How can a mother "feel nothing"?

Back in my room I lay awake and prayed.  It seemed that my prayers were bouncing off the ceiling.  I prayed myself to sleep.

At some point, it was as if an angel came and sat on the edge of my bed.  And this is what I heard - maybe not audibly - but what I experienced was "it's okay to love him.  If I take him I'll give you strength to bear it".

HUM

The next time I went to see him all I could do was cry.  He had a little undershirt on and I thought he looked like a future linebacker.

There would be months of uncertainty.  But I kept loving him - and the months became years - and he grew -- and I loved him through baseball rather than football; golf, girls, college.  Oh me, let's not go there.

But he did grow up.  And his sisters and I think we prepared him well for his life with a lovely wife and two daughters.

At this time in my life, there is some uncertainty once again.  I'd kind of like an angel to come and sit on my bed.  However, God speaks in many ways - like through other writers.  I have been feeling emotionally exhausted and I read a devotional by Jennifer Rothschild with these words: 

He is the One who makes it well with your soul even when it is not well with your circumstances.

HUM!

Do I really believe it?

   When I started writing this blog, more than three years ago now, I "named" it Sunshine and Shadows".
   That is because in my mind I've had my fair share of shadows.  BUT I wouldn't have the shadows without the sunshine.
   And where that really all came from was that when I was a senior in high school, the annual staff put these words by my picture - "She meets her trials with a smile and the shadows turn to light".
   That was half a century ago and when I have looked back on those years I can tell you - yep there were shadows.....
   Broken  promises, shattered dreams, issues that gave me major "cause for pause".
   But, as I have often said "the faith that had been instilled in me as a child" kept me ticking.

   Last Thursday I read a blog written by Paula Rhinehart, a speaker and author I enjoy.  As I read "The gentle art of reframing" I thought I do that.  I take lemons and make lemonade. The hook Rhinehart used was that  she wanted to share a bouquet of peonies with a friend and the friend refused them.
   Apparently  peonies draw ants and the beauty of the peonies wasn't worth the trouble.
   I continued to read and was smugly agreeing with her words.
   And then I reached for my recently filled coffee cup.
   The desk, the floor and yes the lap top - suddenly soaked
   Maybe it survived.
   Not a chance.
   Well, the lap top had served me well for more than 6 years.

   The last few days I 've spent much time acquainting myself with a new keyboard and some newer Office Suite programs.  There's still one little glitch with Quicken but eventually I'll get that one straightened out.  And there are really some neat things to appreciate.
   Although I don't really appreciate the fact that I had to spend money that I really didn't believe I had to spend
   So today I re-read that blog.
   Here's a sentence that I liked : "When you are reeling from disappointment and the thing you didn't want to happen has happened, remember that you know (because of all the other times something like this has happened to you) that God is in it." (italics are mine)

Is this a shadow? Well yeah - but the sun is still shining.

I think you might enjoy some of  another Paula's writings:
http://paularinehart.com/category/blog/

It's really about them. . .

Today is my 68th birthday.
Not a real significant birthday except for the fact that any birthday is significant.
But significant to WHOM?
I think significant to the persons who gave one life.
In my case, a boy who was born in St. Nicholas to Ted and Lonnie Huffingham early on a December morning in 1921 - and a girl who was born in Andrews, South Carolina to Ellie and Pauline Nesmith in the Spring of 1923.  This boy (Earl Ray Huffingham) and girl (Iva Louise Nesmith) would meet when he was 8 and she was 6 at the Spring Glen Methodist Church, grow up to become high school sweethearts, marry and have four children - me being their first.
I have often said I wish everyone could have them for parents but I wasn't willing to share them.
That does not mean that I think they were faultless as parents.  I'm a person who understands that none of us are perfect and would be a person who believes what it says in Romans "There is none righteous, no not one".
I do think they did what was right.  When I was growing up there was a little song we knew - "Don't send your kids to Sunday School, get out of bed and take em".  We had heard the Palermo brothers sing that song when we were in Minneapolis, Minnesota at a Gideon convention in 1957.  Even if we never had heard that song, my parents did that anyway.
When my first marriage failed in the early eighties and I was devastated, my parents helped me as I began to realign my life.
As each of my children went to college and married, my parents were supportive as I adjusted to empty nest.
They rejoiced with me when I fell in love with Rich Suhey and wept with me when he died.
And in 2005 when it was time for them to go to "Assisted Living", they accepted my invitation to come and fill my nest.  That gave me the opportunity to share many more memories with them before daddy died in 2009.
And now my mother is 92 plus and last night before I went to bed, I told her thanks for spending so many hours before noon on July 11, 1947 - laboring to birth a 9 lb, 15 oz baby - and more than that for helping me live the life I love!
It may be my birthday - but it's really about them!

What's that on your nose?

I am sometimes accused of being "nosey".
My answer is always that I am interested, not nosey.
And if my accuser can't give it up, then I just say "I'm a writer, I'm supposed to be nosey".
And if you happen to see me these days you can be the nosey one.  I expect you might say "what happened to your nose?"
It was a quiet morning and my first appointment of the day was at 9 AM.  There was plenty of time for a walk.  My mother was up and had started her breakfast.  This is something she does EVERY DAY.  I made sure she had her little alarm button around her neck and I had my cell phone in my pocket as I headed for a walk.
A walk that was interrupted when my toe and the dividing concrete on the sidewalk collided.
Suddenly without warning I was face down in from of Zaxby's.
I was not a happy camper as I pulled myself together and walked home.   And in case you are "nosey", yes I cried.
Fast forward one day
The mail held a cute card from my South Carolina family.
There was Snoopy in a little sports car ... The words on the front say "Sometimes life takes sudden turns. . ".and the inside inscription says "Without using its turn signal".  A verse of Scripture from Isaiah is included "The crooked placed shall be made straight and the rough places smooth" (Isaiah 40:4).
Man, I'd have liked it if that sidewalk had been smooth.
But it wasn't and my toe just happened to hit that rough place so that I have a huge strawberry on my knee and a skid mark right down the center of my nose.
And when I got home, I found that there had been a little issue with an egg and the microwave and a mother. 
Guess it's a good thing I fell.
And back to the card -
My life has taken a bit of a turn - even though I didn't really know where I was going.  I just knew that for the first time in my life I was experiencing what it's like not to have any responsibility and I was liking that.
But then life happened.
And it's just as clear to me as the nose on my face that this is all part of God's plan. 
Today my nose hurts and my knee hurts . I keep wondering did anyone see me when I was flat on my face...so I guess you'd say my pride hurts.
We aren't sure what direction my mother is going in.  We believe we know what's best for her and for me.  We just don't know when that will happen.
I do know that it will get better - because I believe those words from Scripture - the crooked places shall be made straight.

Fill it up

You have them and so do I.
   Some friends are so positive - it's easy to describe them saying their glass is HALF FULL. On the other hand (do I sound like Tevia?) some friends are not so positive - it's easy to describe them by saying their glass is HALF EMPTY.
   I'd must rather be the first wouldn't you?  And I certainly enjoy the company of those friends more than the latter.
   I was talking with my friend, Tamra and it sounded pretty much like my glass is half empty. She shared a new take on the old saying.
  "What matters most is that the glass is ALWAYS refillable",  she said.
  And that's what I really want.
  There are times when I am tired or sad or just  plain disappointed about the direction of my life.
   Sometimes I can get down right  - well - you get my drift without me using any profane description right?
   I remember a John W. Peterson song from so many years ago.  The name of it is Fill My Cup, Lord.
   Using the Woman at the Well as a resource, the song tells us that all of us are just like empty cups but that they can be filled - with God's love.  The last lines of the refrain say Fill my cup; fill it up and make me whole.
   I also remember one year when I had been feeling a little empty or blue and I heard my friend, John Nill sing Ho, Everyone Who is Thirsty based on some verses in Isaiah 55.  The last lines of that song give us hope.
          I will pour water on him that is thirsty, 
          I will pour floods upon the dry ground;
          Open your hearts for the gifts I am bringing; 
          While ye are seeking Me, I will be found.”
Hum - I just needed to be reminded.
My cup can be filled again!

Wrestling

     I love the account of Jacob's wrestling match with the angel as told in Genesis.
     Probably because I've had more than one of those experience in my life.
     Not with an angel, you understand.  But nights when I couldn't sleep because of choices.
     This week I had one of those nights.  I felt like I needed to make a choice.  I was being counseled from both sides.  I really was unsure about it all.
     And then from nowhere I remembered. . .
     It was the summer of 1964.  My high school boyfriend had lost his mother just months before and his father was trying to keep his little family of four together.  It had been a difficult spring.  And so the dad decided to take his family on a picnic - leaving early Sunday morning and spending the day at the beach. And would I like to go with them?  Well, sure.
     Except the plans included the fact that we would be going on a Sunday.
     I always went to Sunday School and Church on Sunday.  In fact, so did they.  I remember that night so well.  Talk about wrestling.  I agonized over the choice I had to make and finally determined that I should not miss church.  Truth be told, I am not sure that would still be my choice.  By now, I think I was being a bit legalistic.
      Fast forward to 2015, to the morning after my current wrestling experience.
      I had learned the day before of the passing of one of my favorite authors - Elisabeth Elliott.  Her husband, Jim, was one of five missionaries who were killed by the Auca Indians in the 50's. Elisabeth's book Through Gates of Splendor was an account of the massacre.  I appreciated their "love story" and the faith that she exemplified after the tragedy.
     A friend posted a list of Elizabeth's well known words and this one was especially meaningful to me.

"Today is mine. Tomorrow is none of my business. If I peer anxiously into the fog of the future, I will strain my spiritual eyes so that I will not see clearly what is required of me now.” Elizabeth Elliott (1926-2015). I posted that on Facebook, adding these words- My head gets it - I just have to be sure my heart does
     As I reviewed those words, I realized that I might be missing what I'm doing now because I am trying to figure out the future.  And the future is a FOG.  Who can see anything in the fog?
     Hum.
     And then I learned that the decision that I was wrestling with - was not really mine to make.

    All that needless, restless wrestling - Will I ever learn?

But I didn't

One of my daily rituals is to read a few devotionals.  When I read these words last week, I thought, "this sounds like something I wrote".  But I didn't.
     "'If we are distressed, it is for your comfort and salvation; if we are comforted, it is for your comfort, which produces in you patient endurance of the same sufferings we suffer.' 2 Corinthians 1:6 (New International Version NIV).
     During my journey of battling a chronic disease, I have had several dear friends tell me that God must love me a lot because He doesn't allow someone to go through the kinds of adversity I have experienced unless He has a special calling on my life    "The depth and width of your faith experiences are directly proportional to your calling." What were these men of God saying?
     I believe there is a process of preparation that God takes each of His leaders through when He plans to use them in significant ways. A "faith experience" is a time in your life where you see God moving in your life. It is an unmistakable event in which God shows Himself to you.
     If God has plans of using you in the lives of many others, you can expect that He is going to allow certain faith experiences to come into your life in order to build a foundation that will be solid. That foundation is what you will be able to look back on to keep you faithful to Him in the times of testing. Each of us must have personal faith experiences in which we experience God personally so that we can move in faith to whatever He may call us."
     That devotional was written by my friend, Ron Allen.
     54 years ago, my cousin Bonnie Smith who has been my dear friend ALL my life and I were on a train on the way to Capital Teen Convention in Washington, DC.  It was a Youth for Christ sponsored trip.  Ronnie Allen was also on that trip.
     As I remember it, he was not as excited to be there as Bonnie and I were.  However, it turned out to be a good thing - our being on that trip - for that was when Ron Allen came into our lives.
     He came into Bonnie's right much more than he did mine as they began to date - and were married in 1968 and for many years we have  shared joys and sorrows, laughter, tears - life's ups and downs.  I very much appreciate their faith walk, their generosity and their constant availability to serve God by serving others.  I also appreciate the way they have handled Ron's illness that has been a part of their lives for almost 14 years.
     They have handled it with grace and a never waving faith in the fact that God has a plan.  They have been an excellent example.
     More than once in my life, I have thought things were going in one direction when it seemed my path was changed in mid stream.  I've had one of those faith experiences Ron mentions.  Sometimes I change course easily, sometimes I fight it tooth and toenail.  I've never had physical suffering; I've not be diagnosed with a terminal illness.  I've just had some huge disappointments.
     BUT always, and again I say ALWAYS... the change works out for the best. 
      
     

Open Arms

I read it in a devotion book. 
"We hold our children with open arms"
Sounds like a good concept.
Not so easy to do.
As each of my children reached adulthood and left the nest, I was glad.
I was also sad.
We had been a great team.
Actually they had been a great team.  I often say that the thing that kept us going when we became a single parent family was that they had a strong sibling support system.  They still do.
But back to the team, I got to be a part of that team. Sometimes I even got to be the captain.
And,  truth by told, sometimes I wish I could be on the team again.  Not as the captain, honest.
However . . . now they all have a team of their own.  That's the way it's supposed to be.  By the time I married Rich Suhey all three of my children were grown - Becca and Renee had both finished college and were married.  Tray was on the way to both milestones.  I would complain that they didn't need me anymore and Rich would ever so gently remind me
They have become what you wanted them to be - Independent.
Hum - I must have learned something from that devotion book - and hopefully I still practice it although sometimes I'd still like to gather them up like a mother hen and keep them from ever getting hurt.
Only thing that's different is that now I have three extra children (Dale, Wally and Kristen) who I wish I could protect. And then of course. . .
There was that night, 15 years ago.
My son-in-law, Wally, called.  They were on their way to St. Joseph's Hospital in Tampa.
Becca and Dale and Tray and I wasted no time - Renee was about to give birth.
I remember that I told Tray that our family was going to be different.
Different and exciting and fun. I think I was right - and it's been true six more times.
And just as I do for my children and their mates, I have to hold Amazing, Awesome, Glowing, Terrific, Effervescent, Caring and Radiant. . .
"with open arms".

He stood up

Memorial Day is a pretty special day.

   My father was very patriotic. He was the first young man from their community to enlist after Pearl Harbor and was in the Pacific for 43 months. He was in the Army Air Corps. That meant he was a little bit army and a little bit air force. He never lost that keen spirit of patriotism and our family and friends have agreed that he really was a part of what Tom Brokaw said was "The Greatest Generation".

   Even at the end of his life, daddy always wanted to be sure that mother or I had put the flag out - especially on a day like Memorial Day.

   I went to the World War II Memorial in Washington DC in 2005 and when I returned home, daddy was really filled with questions. I remember that he said if he ever got a chance to go, he was going.

   So, when he read about the Orange Park Rotary-sponsored trip for World War II veterans, he wasted no time at all checking it out. His trip would be paid for. He just needed to have a "chaperone".

   My son, Tray, who is daddy's #3 grandson, was all over that. He would love to go. He has inherited a lot of that same patriotic spirit that was a big part of daddy's life. Chad and Brad (grandsons #1 and 2 respectively) also share that spirit and all three of them have spent time serving our country.

    Daddy was so excited as they planned their trip. He supposed he might be the oldest person traveling (he wasn't) and was peeved as he waited for Tray to arrive for the ride to the Orange Park High School. My mother and I rode over for the pre-trip meeting and were there as they boarded the busses headed to JIA.When they arrived in DC, they were surprised when Chad and Brad arrived. Daddy was thrilled. All of his "soldier boys" were with him to honor him and his comrades. It truly was a day that none of them would forget.

  Tray called me several times during the day to give me a report. He would start to tell me something and get choked up. He would say, "I'll have to tell you that in a minute, mom." It would be when they got home that night, daddy a whipped puppy, but with a beaming smile, before Tray could tell me what he had been trying to say all day.

   "Here granddaddy was in a wheel chair," he said. "And every time a band would strike up that song - you know the one that features all the branches of the service...when they got to granddaddy's part, he stood up." 
   I didn't see this happen and yet I know exactly how it must have been. I can just see him. I know about the effort involved and the importance of this experience.  That was seven years ago.  This is our sixth year celebrating Memorial Day without our patriotic patriarch. The flag is flying and we have no doubt about what daddy would do when he heard this https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zudFEvTj9H0