"Go, tell it on the mountain"

In another time and in another place, the Huffingham had a maid whose name was Pecola. She did the ironing and sang as she worked.  Both my sister, Cindy and I loved to hear her singing - especially at Christmas. I  can just hear her singing "Go, tell it on the mountain". 

I tried to get Cindy to sing that song with me recently.  She said it would make her cry.

As we remembered that time in our lives I realized the reason I like that particular song.

Your first clue should be in the word  "tell."

I have never been accused of being quiet.  Nobody ever told me, but I am probably not even quiet when I sleep.

I just always have a story - or some words that I think are important to share - or something good (or bad) that's happening and my favorite way to share is with a pen or keyboard.

And yes - a cell phone.

You know the ones that you can use to TEXT.

I have a couple of friends who text me (and I them) just to say hello - as a reminder that we care and are praying and sending good wishes toward the other.  This is an everyday occurrence!

I love group texts.  That's because I can share the information succinctly and know that everyone gets what I have shared.   Sometimes the news is good.  My high school friends and I learned together when the first great-grandbaby in our group was born.  Sometimes it is of concern and a request for prayer like when my friend Mary Jo texted our prayer group to say she had taken a bad fall and couldn't host the dinner we had planned for that evening.  This week, my siblings and I texted about our brother's in-laws who are ill and my children and I texted about Christmas plans and presents.

I think my children prefer texting because I usually have fewer words.

So here we are - a few days before Christmas 2018.

And we can talk about a text...the most important text that has ever been written.

If I  try, I can almost recite those words --- "And it came to pass, in those days that a decree went out from Caesar Augustus that all the world should be taxed. . .".  Don't depend on me...look it up for yourself in the Gospel of Luke, chapter 2. Count the times the concept of "telling" is used.

The innkeeper said "no room";  the Angels had a story; the shepherds told each other "let's go see"; and then they made abroad what they had seen (that means they talked about it).

Only Mary remained quiet.  (Luke  2:19).  Hum, there might be a lesson there!

May your life be filled with enough Sunshine 

to make you appreciated the Shadows

The stocking are hung. . .

You don't have to be in my presence for more than about 10 minutes before I am telling you my latest adventure as a grandmother.

There is absolutely no way to ever explain how I feel about those 7 bundles of joy that I am blessed to include as my second favorite things about life.  Of course, I have those grands because of the first favorite thing.

When I was putting out my Christmas decorations, I was happy to find this.  For the 18th year, it hangs on the shelf with other significant stockings that have been a part of my life for many years.   One of them held a $100 bill, a gift from a friend who still remains among my dearest although we rarely communicate much less see each other - just know we share a love that is very special.  I digress.

As I hung the stockings and pulled the one that says "GRAND," I loved texting Abbie by now a Freshman in college to tell her how special she is to me. Her birth in 2000 was the beginning of this extraordinary life as a grandmother.  Each one holds a special place in my heart.

This past Fall, grandchild #4, the one I call Terrific, has spent many Saturdays with me.  We have enjoyed pizza, talking about his schoolwork, and playing various games.  He loves to tell people we meet that he may be my fourth grandchild, but he is my first grandSON.

He was excited a few weeks ago to bring his electronic Battleship game.  He knows that I used to play a similar game with his mom.  I tried to remember the game we played many years ago as we started and he assured me that it took him a while to learn it.

Finally, he took out the directions, scanned the pages and closed the book.

"It's not here," he said with a sigh.

"Doesn't tell me how to teach my grandma how to play this game."

As I reflected on that, I thought of my third favorite thing about my life this Christmas 2018 - the fact that every Monday night I get to be with an incredible group of women as we study the best directional book that I know of...the Bible.

Fortunately, it tells us not how to play the game but how to live the life...and as I follow those directions I find that I have joy, peace, and love.

I'm going to keep enjoying my three favorite things -- and pray that as I follow the directions in God's Word, those people are also going to enjoy me!

May your life be filled with enough Sunshine 

to make you appreciated the Shadows

It works for me

At a high school girlfriends luncheon this week the talk seemed to be about diets, exercise routines and what face cream is best for the wrinkles that are increasingly etched on each of our faces.

We were all searching for what works...and finally, someone said: "well it works for me."

More than 24 hours later, I cannot remember exactly what works; nor can I remember who it works for.

That conversation, however, made me start asking myself that some question - What works for me? And, no one is surprised to hear that I'm not thinking diets or exercise but rather what means do I employ that help me enjoy and appreciate the daily grind.

So - here's what works for me.

It's my faith  - the belief that nothing is going to come my way unless it's sent to me for a reason and that sometimes what comes will be positive and yes, just like the wrinkles on my face, some are not going to make me smile.

And it's a hope that even when life seems a bit bleak, there's a rainbow behind those torrential rain showers and though the shadows are a bit foreboding, there's still sunshine somewhere.

More specifically.

Our mother taught us that when we are going through something difficult the best solution is to say the name Jesus again and again.  I've done that when facing a painful physical procedure and when I am confronted with an issue that seems too big for me to handle.

I shared this concept with my prayer group last week.  I told them that's what I'd suggested to my mother when she is in pain.

And then I had a stressful morning and so many things to be going awry in my little world.  My friend, Anne put her hands on my shoulders and very gently said: "Just say, Jesus".

It works for me!

May your life be filled with enough Sunshine 

to make you appreciated the Shadows

Sing, Momma

He was an impatient little two-year-old.

So cute - no doubt about it.

But so impatient.

I was putting breakfast on the table and had decided this cold North Carolina morning, three days before Thanksgiving in 1979 would be a great time for hot chocolate.

Steam was rising from the three Styrofoam cups as I said, "let it cool a bit."

Eight-year-old Becca listened, as did five-year-old Renee. However - my impatient little Tray thought he knew better than his momma.

He reached across and pulled it toward him.  Suddenly that hot water was running not just across the table, but splashing on his body.

I grabbed him, put him in the sink and begin to spray cold water. What I hadn't realized that when I grabbed him, the chenille bathrobe I was wearing held heat - and that made the burn worse.

We were on the way to the hospital in Lexington, and as I held him in my arms, I sang Jesus Loves Me and sometimes he would try to sing. I can almost hear his sobbing voice "nobody can do it like McDonald's can."

The trip was a 30-minute drive.  When it got quiet in our car, he would say "Sing, Momma."

Those words have stayed with me.  When I am frightened or worried, I sing.

Besides, "He who sings frightens away his ills" (Miguel De Cervantes).

I have been reminded of those words as we are in this stage of my mother's life.  She sang in her high school women's ensemble.  I have heard that she even soloed at a wedding or two. When daddy was in the Philippines during WWII, however, she stopped singing.

She would sing the hymns in church, but she was never in the choir, and she rarely sang at home. The years before daddy's passing, I would often hear them singing as they shared in a time of devotion early in the morning.

As her hearing continued to diminish, she tried to sing, but well I should just say she tried to sing.

I was with her recently at a gathering that included a performance of various songs.  It ended with Amazing Grace and I tried to get her to sing along, but she kept her mouth closed. So, I leaned into her ear and sang the words along with the musicians.  I'm not sure how much she heard, but to me, it was a wonderful experience.  And I have decided to keep doing that.... when I go visit her from now on, I'm going to sing to her.

Maybe someday she will say "Sing, Paula."

May your life be filled with enough Sunshine 

to make you appreciated the Shadows

Thank you for the spinach

I happen to like spinach - as long as it's in a salad.

I don't, however, like it cooked.

Years ago, my then husband, Ray Parker, gave this example in a sermon about being thankful.  It was especially meaningful to him because he loved his Mammaw's fried chicken and his mother's German Chocolate Cake.

"Suppose you sat down to a nice dinner," he said, "and there on the table was fried chicken, mashed potatoes and gravy and you could see a chocolate cake on a nearby counter."

Your mouth would be watering...you could hardly wait to get through with the chicken and potatoes and get to that cake".

. . . |and then you saw it.  And you knew what your mother was going to say.

You had to eat what was in the center of the table before you could dive into that cake".

And what was in the center? You guessed it - a bowl of spinach.

That story always reminded me of my brother, Lester, who had heard my daddy lamenting the fact that we (our family was visiting our South Carolina friends for Thanksgiving) were probably having turkey soup for supper.  Lester was four years old, and when we got to the table, he had the honor of asking the blessing.  And his words:

"Thank you for the turkey 'toup."

The point of these remembrances is that even when we have so many  things for which to be grateful, we also need to be thankful for those less than pleasant things....even those things that are downright awful - loss of job (or home like those in West Florida, the Carolinas, and California); catastrophic illness (or loss of a dear one because of that); or even the loss of a relationship - we can be thankful.

Sarah Young said it so well in November 22's Jesus Calling "Thankfulness is not some sort of magic formula; it is the language of Love which enables you to communicate intimately with God. A thankful mindset does not entail a denial of reality with its plethora of problems."

I suppose the most difficult bowl of spinach that ever was set before me was when  Rich Suhey suddenly died 20 years ago.  For two years following his death, I was caught up in dealing with the financial responsibilities that he left me with, the sadness of the loss of the dreams that we had shared and the inexplicable pain of being a 51-year-old widow who had been married only 8 months.

Even today all these years later, I can be met with an unexpected feeling of great sadness at my loss.

However, in those same twenty years, I have been blessed with a terrific daughter in law, seven dear grandchildren, finished my college degree and had the privilege of caring for my parents (which sometimes has been a little like that Turkey 'toup Lester was thankful for).  I have also met and formed incredible friendships, and I have loved the many opportunities of service that I have enjoyed.

Spinach is high in iron.  It enriches one's blood.

It has been said that "pain is good for you."  And how about this little quote:  "If it doesn't kill us, it makes us stronger."

I'm still breathing; I must be stronger!

And that's the way I'm looking at life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness, this Black Friday, 2018.

May your life be filled with enough Sunshine 

to make you appreciated the Shadows

Faith, Family, Friends

When I am asked what my blog is about my most common answer is "Faith, Family, and Friends".  It could just as easily be "life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness", or " Let's have another cup of coffee..."

Or when I am really honest, I might say "It's about me". 

Actually, it's about WHO I am.

I am faith - the faith that was instilled in me as a child, the decision I made as a six-year-old to put my trust in Jesus Christ and begin the lifelong journey as a Women of Faith. AND faith to believe everything is going to work out for the best!

I am family - my parents who met almost 90 years ago when he was 8 and she was 6; who loved each other and their children and our children with such a deep and lasting love; my dear siblings who along with their spouses, love and support me; my incredible children and grandchildren and our extended family of aunts, uncles and cousins.

I am friends - from the childhood crib babies who are still my closest friends to friends I seem to make at every juncture of my life - in churches, workplaces, and civic organizations.  AND somehow I have managed to keep most of those friends! 

My children tease me and say I meet a person one day and have planned to meet for coffee the next.  That's not very far from the truth.  A friend asked me how I've met so many people and we determined it's because I ask them questions (my children call it being nosy; I call it being interested and if I get really sophisticated I say it's because I m a journalist at heart that that's what I am supposed to do).

At any rate on this day before Thanksgiving 2018, it's my Faith, my Family and my Friends for which I am the most grateful.

I am especially mindful of the Faithfulness of God - new every morning, even when I've gone to bed the prior night wondering what the next day might hold - My mother's health and well being as well as that of her sisters and their families, the upcoming Winter Celebration at the Mandarin Museum, (Saturday, December 1 from 11-4) and what project will fill my days once 2019 has dawned.  Oh, and am I going to make any new friends?

I really do have much to be thankful for!  I hope you do as well.

Happy Thanksgiving!

                            May your life  be filled with enough Sunshine...

                                ...to make you appreciate the Shadows

"She meets her trials..."

I woke up this morning with lots of trouble on my mind.

Unsure about my mother's current state of mind and body; Disappointed that my daughter didn't get a position we wanted for her; difficulty with filling a couple of important volunteer spots at the museum, wondering where that check for all those hours I spent working early voting is,  concerned for the health of my children's father and sad as I recall the last days I spent with Rich Suhey before his untimely death 20 years ago this weekend.

I remembered the words in the annual when I was a senior "she meets her trials with a smile... and the shadows turn to light".

Hum

As is my daily practice, I poured that first cup of coffee, found the Praise and Worship music that I listen to and settled into my comfortable chair with several devotional books at my feet.

"Approach problems with a light touch...When a problem (A problem?) starts to overshadow your thoughts, bring this matter to Me" (Jesus Calling by Sarah Young).

The devotional included a reference to Scripture "...In the world you will have trouble, but take heart! I have overcome the world" (John 16:33b).  These were words that Jesus gave His disciples as His time with them was nearing the end.

And also on that page is my handwriting as the words "she meets her trails...".

Hum

I must have felt like this another time.

The wind chimes outside my bedroom window sang out to me as the November breeze picked up.

Somehow I heard my daddy's oft-repeated words "everything is gonna be all right".

I smiled!

                          May your life  be filled with enough Sunshine...

                               ...to make you appreciate the Shadows

Attitude Adjustment

The Ear, Nose and Throat doctor threw me for a loop.

"Your mother has the wrong kind of hearing aids"

What?

We have been working on her inability to hear for so many years.  It has been a long and arduous process - certainly for her - but also for those of us who have something to say.

I guess others in addition to me have something to say.

At any rate, I made the earliest appointment available with our regular audiologist and I told my mother about it; put it on her calendar and arranged my Monday around that appointment.

For the past few weeks I have endeavored to find opportunities for mother to get out a bit and this weekend I decided to take her to my church for the late Sunday afternoon service.

As we left, my mother began to weep.  Through her tears she asked, "How much money do I have?  Can we save for the hearing aids the doctor suggested."

She was so upset that she hadn't been able to hear our pastor's sermon.

She had forgotten that we have an appointment today.  I had not forgotten and I got angry.

I mean banging my hands on the steering wheel angry.

We arrived at her home with me trying to explain to her that I have a plan...first see our regular audiologist - then go from there.

I left her talking with one of her friends - probably telling the woman that I was really cranky.

She would be right.

After a night of tossing and turning, I woke up to these words - "Now unto Him who is able to keep you from falling. . .".  I found the rest of the Scripture in Jude.  I read the words preceding those - and two words jumped off the page at me - "Have compassion".

Oh me.  I'm supposed to be the compassionate one.  I genuinely care about others.  I hadn't been showing my mother much compassion.  She cannot help it that her hearing has failed.

I also cannot help it that sometimes the responsibility of being a caregiver gets heavy, discouraging.

I knew the plan.  But she has missed it.  She is, after all, going to be 96 in a few months.

So this morning = having waked up feeling pretty irritated with the whole situation, I have accepted the fact that I needed an attitude adjustment.

Let's see how long I can accept this is sunshine rather than feel like I am in the shadows!

                           May your life  be filled with enough Sunshine...

                               ...to make you appreciate the Shadows

You're never fully dressed. . .

Okay, I admit it.  I knew you thought it anyway.

Carly Simon's song is about me.  You know the one - "You're so vain, I bet you think this song is about you. . .".

When it comes to my children, my grandchildren, my hair and my teeth....Yep -  I'm so vain.

So it should come as no surprise to you that I spend lots of money on my hair (I like it salt and pepper).  AND over the past few months, as I noticed my used to be pretty teeth were beginning to look a bit uneven and had gaps...I started investigating.

I asked my dentist friend, Keith, about them.  I did some research.  I learned that the aging process can result in crowding of lower teeth.  I also learned that my lack of trips to visit a hygienist had resulted in deposits of plaque and made my lower teeth uneven.  That I learned when I bit the bullet and made an appointment with Dr. Larry Burnside, a Mandarin dentist, a few months ago.

He was very kind as he outlined a plan.  I could have some work done.  Oh me, I needed cosmetic dental work.

While I may be vain, I am also quite pragmatic.  Did I want to spend money that way?  I promise you - I thought, I prayed, I agonized.  And it really wasn't that much money.  It's just that I had to decide - my teeth or a new kitchen floor.

That's the back story.

I was in Dr. Burnside's chair recently and kept my eyes closed as he worked on my mouth.

But when I opened my eyes, I could see a smile under the mask of his assistant, Holly, who happens to be one of my dearest friends. She was so excited as she watched the transformation that was happening in my mouth.

Holly's mother, Shiela, is in Heaven now.  I could tell you lots of things about the two of them.  Theirs is a sweet story of love and forgiveness.  I think the story is one of the reasons that today - Holly has a beautiful smile.  And it is fortunate for me, who is old enough to be Holly's mother, that she gives me some of the love she misses being able to give to her mother.

There's just something about forgiveness and love - and allowing Jesus's love to show through us.

Sometimes that's a bit difficult to do.  I've said it many times in recent days - "The trouble with life is that it is so daily" (that's not original, but I don't know where I heard it). The struggles that we all face each day - from traffic to paying bills to caregiving.

My smile is a little better now - I just have to make sure I am also smiling on the inside.  Besides, "you're never fully dressed without a smile."

                                      May your life be filled with enough Sunshine...

                               ...to make you appreciate the Shadows

"The touch of the Master's Hand"

This print hangs in my kitchen.

It holds some of my daddy's favorite words.  He loved to memorize and quote poetry, and this one, from the pen of Myra Brooks Welch, was a favorite.  It's the story of an old beat up violin that was being auctioned.  No one wanted it until a man stepped forward, took the instrument and its bow and began to play.  And then the bidding went high, higher and highest!

Of course, the value of the violin increased because of the music that came when a Master took the bow to its strings.

We all loved it when daddy quoted a poem or scripture or sang a line or two from a song from his youth.

This is the week that we remember what to me might be  the most precious experience of my life....when the pain got unbearable and daddy called for a nurse, when I gently encouraged him that the medicine that I was placing inside his mouth was to help him relax, when his minister, Rev. Kevin Pound repeated the words of the 23rd Psalm and put the name Earl in rather than saying "MY" and daddy's sweet spirit just sort of wafted out the window to dwell in the house of the Lord forever.

There are four children and three spouses of those children, 11 grandchildren and 7 spouses of those grandchildren and 17 great-grandchildren, who in addition to the love of his life, Iva Lou, sisters, brothers in law, nieces, nephews, and many friends  - miss him still.

We all miss different parts of him....Gator football; golf, Gospel music, and the fact that he really understood that he had a better life because he gave his life to Christ as a young man.

I thought of him this week when I read these words in a devotional, Practicing His Presence which is a compilation of some letters written by Brother Lawrence and Frank Laubach,  a missionary to the Philippines.

Laubach wrote that he had a mind bent to explore and to respond to Christ as a violin responds to the bow of the Master.  

I think that's what my daddy did - I believe he knew the value of the Master's hand on his life - and we all are better for it!

            May your life be filled with enough Sunshine...

                                ...to make you appreciate the Shadows

"Call a friend"

The television show, "Who wants to be a millionaire?" featured "Call a friend".  That gave the contestant the opportunity to call someone for help when they were unsure of the answer to the question

I thought of that recently when I realized that I should have done that - "call a friend."

I was telling my friend, Diane, about the prior weekend.

My first grandchild, Abbie, has now gone to college.  She has a heart that is bent toward following what she believes to be God's plan for her life.  I not only embrace that for my own life but heartily support this in hers.  Abbie is a freshman at Cedarville Christian University.  She is 11 hours from home.

As I think any grandmother might do, when she was making her decision about college, I asked if she realized how far away she was going to be.  She knew that and said "don't you think it's time for me to grow up?" and I determined then and there to never say another word about her being way up north.

So it was that the weekend before I was lunching with Diane, had been the time Abbie said goodbye to her parents (Renee and Wally), and her sister, Allie and they headed back to Florida.

That weekend was one of my most painful experiences.  I thought my heart was going to come out of my chest.  No matter what I tried, I could not lose a  picture of their goodbyes.

When I told Diane about it, she had a very simple response: Why didn't you call me?

I don't have the first clue why I didn't call.  It was as if there was a shroud of doom around me - and I could not get out of the trap - I was sad.

Never mind my memories of the day my parents left me in Dayton, Tennessee, and I looked forward to the excitement of learning and growing.

I did remember saying goodbye to each of my children.  But when  I look at all they have become since that time in their lives; all they learned and the opportunities they enjoyed,  I can almost forget the sadness. 

Once Abbie posted a photo of her dorm room, the sadness lifted a little, and when Renee texted they had crossed the Florida line, I was even better.

And then I remembered what a great time Renee and I had after Becca went to college and I was excited for what Renee and Allie have ahead of them.  That did not mean I didn't miss Becca and I can tell you when Renee left and it was just Tray and me there was more sadness.  As some people know, when Tray came home the first time, I cried and said: "Please don't go back."  He did.

We raise our children to be independent.  Then we are sad when that happens, but that's another blog.

So Abbie went to college, and her grandmother learned something.  Next time I have no doubt but that I will call a friend.  That, after all, is what they are for!

May your life be filled with enough sunshine

 to make you appreciate the shadows

Heavy traffic - Operator error

I was so excited.

My friend, Virginia and I were planning to meet for an early breakfast.

Our usual pattern is to meet once a week.  Vacation and other events had prevented that from happening.  It had been three weeks since we had a visit.

She had things to tell me.  I was ready to listen.

I, of course, always have something to tell.

Our scheduled time to meet - 6:30 AM.  Early riser that I am, this was not an issue.

I left my house at 6:10 for the 20 minute drive across the Buckman to "her" Panera's.  She lives in Orange Park and we always try to meet somewhere between my Mandarin house and hers.

There was an accident on the south side of the Buckman.  I made a mental note that by the time I headed back to Mandarin it would be cleared up.

I was sailing along when I suddenly realized I had missed the Blanding/Collins Road exit.  Oh well, I had time.  I'd just go to the next exit and turn around. That would be about 5 miles on 295. 

Remember that accident on the Buckman.

And wouldn't you know I did the exact same thing I had done earlier?

I missed the Blanding/Collins Road exit.

The clock was ticking.  Virginia's time frame meant she would need to leave at 7:45 AM.  It was 7:10.  Could she wait?  Should she wait?

The traffic continued at a snail's pace.

We finally decided we should reschedule.

I enjoyed a nice quiet breakfast at Cracker Barrel (by myself).  I had called the experience -Heavy traffic - operator error.  I thought of what this operator did to make an error.  Was I daydreaming?  Was I so sure about where I was going that I didn't concentrate?

Do I have too much on my plate?

Hum - that's a novel thought.

Bottom line -I decided not to pout.  I"m already working on that "too much on my plate" plan.

However, both Virginia and I truly believe that 'all things work together for good' and are now looking forward to finding a time to meet next week.

I'm still disappointed but I'm smiling.  Everything always has a way of working out!

May your life be filled with enough sunshine

 to make you appreciate the shadows

Would you be my friend?

I often use three words to describe who I am

My faith in Christ is at the center of my life.  One of my favorite songs (tied with "It is Well with my Soul") is "Great is Thy Faithfulness".  One of my grandaughters has the sweet name of Faith as her middle name.  I love this definition of Faith = forsaking all I trust Him.

I love being a daughter, a mother, a grandmother, a sister, a niece, an aunt and a cousin.  I consider myself blessed to have been raised in a Christian home with parents who didn't just send me to Sunday School but took me; who didn't just pray for me, but prayed with me and who remain a consistent example of caring for others.

And I love the fact that I have a plethora of friends - which is where my thoughts are today.

I don't look back on my childhood and teenage years as being a person who had a lot of friends.  I know that's hard to grasp if you know me very well today.  I was not confident.  I continually compared myself to others who were better looking, had more clothes or made better grades.  I didn't like myself so how could anyone like me!

Unfortunately, I was raised in a church where although the Bible was preached, so were all the things one didn't do if one was a Christian.  It made me afraid to have fun for fear I would break some rule.  I was a rule follower!

However, when I got to a Christian college, I relaxed.  Suddenly I was outgoing, friendly, maybe even a flirt. No maybe about that - I was and I am.

And now I have so many dear friends that I am hard pressed to tell you who my best friend is!

But here's one thing about my friends - they are all different.  I have very dear friends who are ardent Trump supporters -and some who are not.  I have friends who are Gators and some who are not = some are even Seminoles.  I have some who worry about their weight and some who don't. Some are happily married and some need to fine a way to be happily married or ... (that's meddling, sorry).

I have had good friendships that went sour and have had to fight to keep a couple friendships strong.  There have been times when I had to know when to walk away - with words of "I'll just keep praying for you".

Recently I was asked, "what's the secret of your having so many friends?"  I hope it's my faith.

A future homeowner stopped in to see how her house was coming along.  She had many questions and concerns and I listened.  I didn't really know her, but in time she was sharing her story (some tragic) with me  All I did was stand there and listen - asking questions and being interested in her responses.

The next day she was back in our office with a question "could we meet for lunch?".  I took that request as her saying "would you be my friend?"

We haven't found a good time to meet just yet, but we will.  I think I know why I have so many friends.  "A man who hath friends must show himself friendly" (Proverbs 18:24a).

May your life be filled with enough sunshine

 to make you appreciate the shadows

NOTE:  The words Faith, Family, and Friends hang on the wall of my bedroom.  They are the creation of my granddaughter, Allie Blain (https://www.letters4luv.com).

When the tables are turned

I was in the 7th grade.  Life was tough.  At least it seemed that way to me.

My sister, Cindy, and I each had chores that must be done on Saturday mornings before we could take our allowance and walk to the drug store on the highway.

Cindy was probably cleaning the bathrooms, and I was vacuuming and dusting.  I was in a nasty mood.  Something set me off, and I started to cry.

I don't often cry now so that may not be an easy thing for you to picture.

As I was vacuuming and crying and crying and vacuuming, my mother appeared in the den.

"What are you crying about?" she asked.

"You're the mother, you're supposed to know," I exclaimed.

Fast forward with me to 2018.  That same mother is now 95 years old.

And sometimes things are just not right in her world.

A few weeks ago, it was that her apartment wasn't "homey", then it was her hair, then she needed some new blouses.  So we took care of that.

Yet still it was if she was crying out to me - nothing seemed to make her feel better.

Until an afternoon when she was visiting me, and my neighbor stopped in for a visit.

The conversation thrilled her.  It was about the Holy Spirit, one of my mother's favorite topics.

And I was grateful that even though I didn't plan the conversation, one of her needs had been met.

My mother really depends on me to know what to do when things are going awry.  I'm the one who can call the doctor, talk to the nurse, take her to have her nails done, etc. etc. etc.

For so long, it was my mother encouraging me - always looking for a way to make me happy.

And now it's me who has the responsibility.  I do realize.  however, that try as I might, I cannot always make my mother happy.   In reality,  I had to find my own happiness, didn't I?

And so does my mother.  

While, as her principle caregiver, I am responsible for her safety,, my mother has to find her own happiness.  I'm pretty sure it comes when she allows the reality of the Holy Spirit in her life.

And now I've gone from preaching to meddling.  That's okay - she's been guilty of that in my life more than once.

It's just one of those times when the tables are turned.

May your life be filled with enough sunshine

to make you appreciate the shadows

Nothing

 I had just completed a diatribe of how my day had gone.

"I know I'm 'called' to care for my mother," I told the women in my prayer group.  "But I just get tired".

My friend, Holly, smiled at me with these words:  "What can we do to help?"

Nothing.

Why in the world is that a common response - when offered help?

I thought of that as I meditated on the fact that today is Maundy Thursday,  The name comes from "mandate of the 'new commandment'" that was given by Jesus.  It was the last time that Jesus would share a meal with His disciples.  At that Last Supper, Jesus washed his disciples’ feet and commanded them to love and serve one another as he had done when he washed their feet.  He even washed the feet of the one He knew was going to betray Him.

In my years as an Episcopalian, I have learned to love and appreciate liturgical worship.  I love the traditions that we follow from year to year. I always look forward to the Maundy Thursday service.

Except...I am great with washing someone else's feet, but not so great about someone doing the same for me.

The Lord Jesus, after he had supped with his disciples and
had washed their feet, said to them,

 "Do you know what I,

your Lord and Master, have done to you? 

I have given you an example,

 that you should do as I have done (from the Book of Common Prayer)

Hum.  I need a lesson in humility.

Tonight, someone else is going to wash my feet - they are doing it "as unto the Lord".

I'm also making a list of ways my friends can help me as I am in a stage in my life when I really need help.  I cannot do everything ...I must let my friends "do things as unto the Lord".

May your life be filled with enough sunshine
to make you appreciate the shadows

Not the way we planned it

March 12, 1923

Iva Louise was born to Ellie and Pauline Mercer Nesmith in Georgetown County, South Carolina.  She was the second child, first girl.  Four sisters, Thelma, Carolyn Ann, and Beth would follow her.  They would all be Rudoph's little sisters.  Before Carolyn's birth, the family relocated to Florida where Ellie went to work for Mason Lumber Company.

1929

The Nesmiths moved to South Jacksonville and began to attend the Methodist Church nearby. They met Ted and Lonnie Huffigham and were invited to Sunday dinner.

That's the first time my mother met my father.

August 5, 1942

Iva Louis and Earl were married.  He was a soldier boy and went off to war to be gone for almost four years.  Upon his return, they began their family.  I was born, then Cindy three and a half years later.  We had a fun life.  In 1959 their first son,  Jonathan was born.  Two years later, a second son, Lester completed the family.

For 67 years our parents celebrated their love for God, each other and their family.  By now that family numbers almost 40 and that's without the step-grands and greats.  And, of course, there are babies to come.

Spring 2018

We began to plan our mother's 95th birthday.  We decided to forego a big party.  We will wait for her 100th.

We did plan a family luncheon at Beach Road Chicken Dinner.  We thought we would have 35 with us to celebrate on the Sunday before her birthday.  Her sisters (Carolyn, Ann, and Beth are still with us) planned a nice luncheon on the actual anniversary of her birth.

All was set

Until my mother got cold on Sunday, March 4.  That led to a cough and a diagnosis of exacerbated Chronic Oxygen Pulmonary Disease (COPD).  She was admitted and spent five days at Baptist South.

And so the plans were changed

We will just reschedule the Beach Road Chicken Dinner extravaganza.  The sisters will have lunch another day.

The good that came out of this:

Four of 11 grandchildren enjoyed one on one visits.  Her sisters gave her a book that is about each of their relationships with her and a balloon.


That night her cousin, Evalyn came and they enjoyed face-timing with some of their South Carolina Nesmith cousins.

In one of her scrapbooks is a poem that her aunt Lila Newton gave her when daddy was on the way to the Pacific in World War II.  I'm not positive about the words, but I do know the concept is that sometimes the plans we make get rearranged and that God always has a better way.

Were we wrong to plan the celebration?  No

Did it all work out?  Well, she still had a birthday.

It was just not the way we planned.

By now, she is recovering well, back at home at Brookdale Mandarin and seems quite happy to be once more in her pretty apartment and with her good friends.  And we will start thinking about her 100th birthday.  It will be big.  We need a long time to plan it

May your life be filled with enough sunshine

 to make you appreciate the shadows

The wrong person

My mother and I were walking across the Stein Mart parking lot.  As is most always the case, I was more than a few steps ahead of her.

A young man, sitting in a wheelchair called out to me

"Could you buy me a sandwich?"

I shook my head  - no.

He was persistent.

"But I'm hungry", he said.

Sorry, I'm taking care of someone else, was my response.  I pointed to my mother, slowly making her way, her hands on her walker.

"But the Bible says you should take care of the poor and hungry", the man was persistant.

When I told him that I know what the Bible says he shot me a question.

"Then what does Philippians 4:13 say?"

"I can do all things through Christ which strengthened me".

The man shouted Hallelujah and wheeled himself on down the walkway.

When I related that store to my son, he said  "that guy chose the wrong person.  Did you tell him you had all afternoon if he wanted to suggest some other references?"

I'm sharing that story not because I think I'm some Bible scholar.  It's just that the Bible has been a part of my life - for well - all my life.

That night the key verse in our Bible study discussion was Joshua 1/8 -- It talks about the importance of knowing and meditating on God's word. 

When we know it, we can use it.  In times of sorrow, temptation, anger.  fear

47 years ago I had a cyst removed from my neck.  I was scared.  This was before babies and I had never had a broken bone or had a stitch.  As they wheeled me to the operating room, my mind talked with me with each turn of the wheel of the gurney.

"Trust in the Lord with all your heart..."

Obviously, I survived that surgery plus many more opportunities to rely on Scripture verses that I have known since I was a child.

Yes, the guy asked the wrong person but fortunately, I had the right answer.

Daddy's Jacket

Our Texas brother, Jonathan, is in town this week for the Celebration of the life of Louis Johnson who is his children's other grandmother.

We have had some interesting chats and done a couple of memorable things - like changing the flowers at the Cemetery and I gave him a tour of Walter Jones Park.

The first morning of his visit, there was a jacket hanging on one of my dining room chairs.

"You know whose jacket that is, right", he asked me, most likely knowing that his persnickety older sister is always aware when something that isn't normally supposed to be someplace "shows up".

"It's daddy's", he said.

Of course, that would make it okay.

All week I have been thinking about daddy's jacket.  Actually, I have been thinking about the man who wore it.

Probably because we are saying goodbye to a woman we have admired for many years.  Louise Johnson was a faithful Christian who loved her husband, children, and grandchildren - not to mention those who are connected in some way to them.

Earl Huffigham was a faithful Christian who loved his wife, children, and grandchildren - not to mention those who are connected in some way to them.

And this week we have learned of the homegoing of Billy Graham.

Talk about faithful!

And add the word, Legacy.  For that indeed is what Louise Johnson, Earl Huffingham, and Billy Graham have in common (in addition to the faith in Jesus Christ).  They have a legacy.  It's their children, grandchildren - and in Billy's case - the world.

Last night I heard the Right Reverend John Howard (8th Bishop of Florida) recall his first time to hear Billy Graham.  He said he may not have walked an aisle as the choir sang "Just as I am" but in his heart, he knew that he was going to follow Christ.

One of the songs that our daddy loved was "Find Us Faithful".  That's more of the legacy that Louise, daddy and Billy Graham have left.  We found them faithful!

Jonathan will go back to Texas.  He will take daddy's jacket.  He wants to take the Florida Gators sign that I put in my yard on game day.  Not a chance - that's a part of our legacy, too.

May your life be filled with enough sunshine

 to make you appreciate the shadows

You call this a King's Cake?

Today is Epiphany.

Our Widows and Widowers group gets together for games the first Friday of each month.  So since today is Epiphany, how should faithful Episcopalians celebrate?  Have King's Cake of course.

So I did some research.  This is what a King's Cake looks like.  I could order one.  Not enough time.  I would go to Publix.

Except - with the cold and nasty weather, I never got to Publix to order it and since this is my first time to do anything like this, I really couldn't order online or even on the phone.  And then it was too late.

I would have to get creative.  

I was talking with my children about my project, explaining that the baby in the cake symbolizes luck and prosperity to whomever bites into a slice and finds it.

Our discussion led to the etymology of the word Epiphany.  Why is today called Ephipany and what does that have to do with one having an epiphany. So, I did some Wikipedia-style research.

"When capitalized, Epiphany.is an observation in commemoration of the coming of the Magi as the first manifestation of Christ to the Gentiles...",

That would be why we often have an Epiphany pageant on this day.

'The word epiphany means a usually sudden manifestation or perception of the essential nature of the meaning of something."

It's like those times when we suddenly have an idea or a thought and wonder "why did't I think of that?"

So back to my King's cake.  As I walked through Publix - no King's cake in my basket, I kept wondering - what could I do?  Surely I was not going to show up at our game night sans cake/

And I bought a cake mix - one with sprinkles looked more festive.  But what about a baby?

And suddenly, I had an epiphany.  I got creative.  Here are some clues.   It's small and edible.  I looked for the size I enjoyed as a child I don't think they make that size anymore.  At least I could't find one.

I promise you that there is a baby (of sorts) in this cake.  A baby that one  of our widows or widowers will chump down.  And next year that person can purchase the King's Cake.

Happy Epiphany.

May your life be filled with enough sunshine

 to make you appreciate the shadows