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

For the rest of my life

   A wonderful pianist named Bernie joined us at the Caregiver Expo last Saturday.  From early morning until mid-afternoon, the Grand Ballroom in the Herbert University Center was filled with "oldies and goodies", some classical, even some Greek renditions (especially for Toula Wootan).
   He asked me what my favorite song is and I could sing it but didn't know the name at first.  I said, "Anne Murray sang it; Rich and I danced to it, you know something about the rest of my life...".
   "I'll always remember the song they were playing, the first time we met and I knew..." as I started to sing, I remembered, the night Rich and I went to hear Anne Murray and the many times we loved to dance to that song.
   Such a romantic am I.
   So much so that on this date I am remembering some wonderful romances that I was a part of.
   One romance ended on this day in 1971.  That was the day that my mother and her sisters stood with their dad as my grandma Nesmith took her last breath.  I wasn't there.  But I have heard the stories again and again of granddaddy gathering his daughters to join him at her bedside and I 'll always remember the phone call I got that my grandma was gone.
   I had learned I was going to have a baby just 10 days before and I was so disappointed that grandma was never going to get to rock that child - who would be born a few months later on what would have been my grandma's 70th birthday.  I've always thought that to be a pretty cool deal.
   This is also a date of remembrance when I think of another romance that I was a part of.
   On May 20, 2005, my parents took a huge step when they moved in with me.  It was not an easy step for any of us.  I think it was hardest on daddy.  While he knew he needed to give up some control, it was so hard to do that to his eldest child.
   However, the next four yeas and four months were rewarding.  We thought my daddy was soon to die.  The move invigorated him.  It was a time that I will always remember.  And I will always be glad that I invited them to come.
   My grandparents shared their love and lives for 50 years; my parents for 67 years; Rich and I danced for 8 months and 4 days.
   Short time - but still "I'll always remember. . .".
   Memories are good.  However, we cannot live in the past, we cannot just keep "remembering".  
   We have to live . . .the rest of our lives.
  

Exquisite moments

   I love quotes.  I can spend much time enjoying Pinterest, reading the words and enjoying the graphics that have been used to emphasize the words.
   This should come as no surprise to anyone.  I'm always pulling quotes from my memory with a smart or  poignant remark that I'm hopeful proves whatever point I am endeavoring to prove.I talk about closed doors and open windows, always wonder what' was down in the well to come up in that bucket and am the proverbial - what goes 'round comes round person.
   My children know this and I have often been the recipient of a gift that has words inscribed.Such was the case this Mother's Day.
"I believe that every day should have at least one exquisite moment" (Audrey Hepburn -  talk about exquisite).
   The words made me start thinking - define exquisite.The excitement of my youngest grandchild, the one I call Radiant when the two of us meet; the way the grandson I call Caring - takes such good care of his great grandma; the voice of Effervescent, the laughter of Terrific, the smile on Glowing's face when the tennis match goes the way she wants, the sweet attitude of Awesome when faced with trials and the Amazement I felt when my eldest grandchild and I connected when she was 8 months old.      
   Obviously - I'm a bit enamored with my grandchildren. Almost as much as I always have been with my children.  I know I drive my friends a little crazy the way I can go on and on about them.  But I mean really - "have you met my children"?
   But there are other things I consider exquisite, The way the sun changes the dark outside my office window - the sounds of the birds, crickets and yes even the frogs in the early morning.
   An email from an old friend, a song that reminds me of a special time in my life; the smell of coffee brewing, a cup of tea in a china cup. Spell checking a document and seeing the words "no spelling errors"; a balanced checking account and finding a shirt on sale for much less than the outfit I am carrying in my hand.
   And then there was  a walk into a lobby where I heard "Savior Like a Shepherd Lead Us" on the piano before I accepted the offer of a piece of candy from the front desk receptionist.  It was a Goetze  - a confectioner sugar filling encircled by caramel.  And why was that an exquisite moment.  Because our daddy loved that hymn and that candy.
   Each of us will have a different definition of that word.
   What does it mean to you?

Hands on our hips

   Fifty years ago, I was finishing High School, planning to go to college.I remembered when I went to college in 1965.  Why in the world I chose to go to Bryan College in Dayton, Tennessee, I will never know.  Well actually I do know, it was part of God's plan for me, but from a logical standpoint that was not such a great move.  It was 1,000 miles away from home, an out of state college and we didn't know the first thing about student loans.
   But off to Tennessee I went - leaving my parents with three children still at home and my dad in a difficult time in the workplace.  I've felt guilty about that for many years.  HOWEVER...
   I knew I wanted to be a minister's wife.  As I have said many times, I might have becom minister myself had I lived in a different economy. It was the mid sixties, girls just didn't do that,
   So it wasn't that hard to drop out of college in the middle of my sophomore year and get married.My North Carolina born preacher boy had his third degree and we had three children before we divorced in 1983.
   And I had a few college courses behind me.
   Those children and I moved to Jacksonville and I took my first class at UNF in 1983.  Would I ever graduate?  I hoped so.  The circumstances of life took over.  College became the least of my worries.  I wondered if that silly comment about UNF - u never finish - would be my mantra.
   Until. . .
   Both of my daughters were in college.  Becca was at the University of Florida and Renee was at Stetson.  I was envious and must have been being verbal about it.
   Renee put her hands on her hips and made this statement: "I think you resent it that Becca and I are getting an education and you never completed yours".
   I put my hands on my hips and responded:  "I think you are right".
  And so it was that 13 years ago, I donned a cap and gown and walked into the UNF arena to the strains of Pomp and Circumstances.
   I looked up and saw a young woman waving her hands in the air.
   It was Renee and we knew.
   It was all about those hands on our hips.