"In the bleak mid-winter"

 It was our last Christmas as a traditional family.

 We lived in Louisville, Kentucky.  

Life was beginning to be difficult.  I look back on that time and think "it was a bleak mid-winter".

However, we did something we had never done before - and I have continued to appreciate it for the 39 years since then.

We went to church.  Now, you are probably thinking of course you went to church.  You were married to a Baptist minister.  Well.  We didn't just go to church.  

We went to Midnight Mass at the Christ Church Cathedral (Episcopal).

I loved the procession.

I was not well educated with some of the traditions of the Episcopal Church, but I did enjoy participating in the service.

The next day my children enjoyed snow and the presents they were given.  It seems like maybe they didn't get very many presents.  I don't think they were aware of that and I'm not even sure if any of them remember the snow or the church service.

They do know that going to church on Christmas Eve stayed important to me.

And they know that I will so appreciate the opportunity I have tonight, not only to go to church but to be a part of the procession as I am one of the persons who will serve communion alongside our priests.  Who would have thought - 40 years ago tonight - that I would be doing that?

I've been thinking about my life - these past 40 years - reflecting on how I got from there to here.  And truly being grateful for the blessing of God on my life (and the lives of my children)  through so many people.

Christina Rosetti's poem (the source of the title of this blog) is most likely not historically accurate.  Scholars tell us that Jesus was not necessarily born when snow covered the ground.  However, the poem ends with words that resonate with me - "what can I give Him - give Him my heart".

Or being interpreted.

Tonight as I process, singing "O Come All Ye Faithful", I will be expressing the prayer of my heart - one of gratitude for all the blessings on our lives since that bleak mid-winter 40 years ago.

                                            May your life have enough sunshine

                                            to make your appreciate the shadows

What's love got to do with it?

 I'm confused. . .

Truth be told I'm always just a tad confused.  My excuse is that I am creative and I need that part of my personality to make it work.

What am I confused about now?

For years I have enjoyed Advent.  I love the lighting of the candles on an Advent wreath that's a part of worship services on the four Sundays that precede Christmas.  I usually write a blog each week during Advent.  This year has been no exception.  And I have an Advent wreath in my home.

My confusion is that I thought this week was the week that we light the candle of love.  As I researched, thought, and prayed about what to write the word I found was PEACE.  Humph.  I wrote on Peace two weeks ago.

So ... here are my thoughts on LOVE.

It plays a vital role in the Christmas story.  Because of Joseph's love for Mary, he didn't stone (nor did he shun)  his betrothed when he learned that she was going to have a child (Matthew 1:18-19).  

Mary had a natural motherly love for Jesus as she carried Him in her womb.  I loved that way Max Lucado said it:  "Mary loaned her womb so that the Son of God could be born to walk among us and later die on the cross for our sins".  But I am getting ahead of my story.

Jesus focused His preaching on love throughout His ministry.  " You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind. 'This is the greatest and first commandments.  And a second is like it.  'You shall love your neighbor as yourself" (Matthew 22;37-39). 

And I believe love is the greatest of all the virtues that the Advent candles represent.  Love encompasses Jesus' entire purpose for being on earth.  

And as Sally told Charlie Brown  "That's what Christmas is all about".

I've been thinking of some expressions of love that I know of - some that happened at Christmas.  Our daddy gave our mother her engagement ring a week before Christmas in 1941.  That was 80 years ago.  Their love for God each other and their children remains dear to me.

When my children and I were in the early years of being a single-parent family my son raked leaves so he could purchase a used (would you believe a mid-forties device?) waffle iron for me.  Later he found a train for my home. That was something I had wanted when he was a little boy but never found the funds to make that purchase.   

And then there's the story of the Gift of the Magi.  You know the one by O. Henry when the young bride sold her hair to buy a chain for her husband's watch who sold his watch to buy clips for her hair.  Each sold the most valuable thing he owned in order to buy a gift for the other.

What's love got to do with it?

Everything!

"For God so loved the world, that He gave His only Son" 

May your life have enough sunshine

so that  you will appreciate the shadows 

No greater joy

It is the third Sunday of Advent.  We light the candle of Joy.

Several years ago the Wonder Women's Bible Study that I facilitate did a Max Lucado story on finding JOY.  Each week much to their chagrin I insisted that we sing a little chorus “Rejoice in the Lord always” in rounds.

Earlier today I wrote, "I think the Joy candle is my favorite".

I've spent several hours trying to figure where that came from.

There have been some Christmas seasons when I had much joy.  In 1971 I had a newborn baby girl.  Barbara Streisand's song The Best Gift was perfect.  She really was (and continues to be) my best gift (well at least the first of three).

Then there was the year that I had very little joy.  1982 was the year that we became a single-parent family.  I made an effort to keep life as close to normal as possible so Sunday School was a priority.  Renee and Tray both boldly asked God for bicycles as they sat in a Sunday School class.  The arrival of two used bikes at our family home on Christmas Eve was met with tears of joy from a mother who was trying to figure all of this out.  And of course, Renee and Tray were overjoyed when they found a clue that led them to the bicycles that were awaiting them the next morning. 

Later the three of them learned the song “Rejoice in the Lord”.  With Becca accompanying them Renee and Tray sang “rejoice in the Lord, He makes no mistake he knoweth the way of each path that I take and when I am tried and purified I shall come forth as gold.”

This past summer their father passed away.  Did we rejoice?  No, of course not.  But we can all agree that God knew our path and while we may not be gold we believe that God has given us reasons for joy.

Those three gifts - remain my greatest source of joy (III John 4).

I'm sure I'm not alone in this statement - sometimes it's difficult to find joy.  

I have wonderful memories of a sweet couple, Jimmy and Geraldine Winburn, who worked with us in a small church in Chattanooga in the mid-'70s.  One of my fondest memories is of a sermon Jimmy preached from the book of James.  He reminded us that we are to count it all joy when difficulty comes our way.

He said that's what makes us Christ-like.

Jimmy passed away a few years ago after struggling with Alzheimer's.  I believe his sweet wife would say that she counts it all joy for the life that they shared.  

HUM

I don't always practice that.

I do know life is better when I make an effort to share.  Sometimes it does take effort.  It's not always easy to go to visit my mother who is sometimes clear and others quite confused.  But she always smiles!  I give her joy.  My garage is going to house a vehicle while my aunt and uncle take a trip.  My aunt thanked me for the gift.  I give her joy.   

JOY is the key to a  happy life!  "Joy to the world - joy to the fishes in the deep blue sea - Joy to you and me!"

The P'S of Christmas

I love the Christmas season.  From the music to the decorations to the traditional food and fellowship. And I love remembering Christmases PAST  I found this photo recently. My grandma Nesmith was great at arranging flowers.  Much of my childhood Christmases included my grandparents.  And of course Church - and Christmas PAGEANTS - as a participant then a parent and a grandparent. This week I'm a narrator in our church's Live Nativity.  I obviously still love pageants.

And I love Advent. I was first introduced to the celebration of the coming of Christ on the four Sundays prior to the time that we celebrate His birth when my children and I were members of the Nazarene Church.  I always looked forward to the lighting of the Advent candle by a family.  

I also thought the Worship Committee should think outside the traditional family box and ask a single mother and her children to light the candle.  But I'm not bitter.  I guess that calls for rePENTANCE.

Today is the second Sunday of Advent.   For years I have known the second candle of Advent to be the Candle of PEACE  However, I have read several discussions that referred to it as the Candle of Faith.  I've also read it as the Candle of Bethlehem. That works - because it had been prophesied the Saviour would be born in the city of David (which is Bethelem). And once we put our faith in the child who was born in Bethlehem, then we can have peace. So I guess it really doesn't matter if it's Faith, Bethlehem or Peace.  The important thing is remembering that we are celebrating the birth  - of that person - the Son of God - who grew up to be our Savior.   

There have been many Christmases that I had no peace.  And this is coming from a person who has had faith in Christ since I was a six-year-old.  In fact, it was at Christmas time that I made a PROFESSION of faith.

If you read back through these paragraphs I hope you will see a recurring theme -- lots of P's - which - is why I called it the P's (peace) of Christmas.  And of course, it's written by the woman that my nieces and nephews call Aunt P.

All of my Christmases PAST don't make me smile.  There have been many that I had no peace.  However, the best thing I can tell you is that today I have the "peace that passes understanding" and I am most grateful to be able to PROCLAIM that!

PS It's from Philippians (4:6)  just had to find one more P.

                                May your life be filled with enough sunshine

                                  to make you appreciate the shadows

Perpetual Hope

 Time to light the candle of Hope.

That concept has great meaning in my life.  

*More than 20 years ago I loved participating in the Hope Fund. I wrote a story about a woman whose life had become very difficult because she was a victim of MS.  The story (which was published in the Florida Times-Union that year)  was a part of my final communications class before I got my degree from UNF.

*About 15 years ago when my granddaughter Allie was in the early diagnosis of  ITP (an auto-immune disorder where her blood does not make enough platelets), my daughter and her husband founded Clouds of Hope.  Eventually, that organization provided funds for several playgrounds with safe equipment to be built in the Tampa area.  

*And then there was . . .  “You give me hope”

I don’t know when words like that have touched me so greatly.  My friend has experienced a great loss.  One of my "gifts" is walking alongside someone who has had that kind of experience and helping them as they find hope. 

The timing for those words was important because I was just putting together my Advent wreath and when I was already thinking so much about hope as I prepared for our Wonder Women Bible Study that would focus on  Advent.

 I had read these words in one of the studies that I am using:

 “This is Christmas.  The season of perpetual hope”.  That’s actually a quote from the holiday movie Home Alone.   I actually never have seen that movie.  Love Actually is more my type.  I can't tell you the number of times I've seen that one.

 I digress.

Webster says that hope is a feeling of expectation and desire for a certain thing to happen; a person or thing that might help or save someone.

That feeling of expectation and desire is a good way to feel.  Sometimes when we are feeling that way we get a little impatient.  But it is important to understand that hope is about promise.  In a time long ago, young women had something called a hope chest.  A cedar chest, lined with fragranced linens would hold items a bride would need to begin life as a wife.  I doubt any of us know anyone who still has a hope chest.

However, that concept – preparing for the future is one that is worthy of its inclusion in our lives.

The hope candle is also known as the prophecy candle.  The scripture that tells the story of God’s promise to Abram is prophecy.  God was promising what was to become.  And we know that promise did come true.  There is a great nation, the nation of Israel, and into that nation was born a Savior.

The Bible contains numerous verses that focus on hope – it’s the evidence of things not seen; Christ is our hope; God promises us a hope and a future.  (Hebrews 11:1;  Colossians 1:27; Jeremiah 29:11).

Hope is more than expectation. 

It is trust – and that trust should be in God. 

I heard recently that the greatest cause for suicide is when a person has lost hope.  Sad? Yes.  And in truth, we cannot live without hope.  But we have hope and that hope is an anchor firm and secure (Hebrews 6:19) that we can claim as our own.

I am thrilled to be a person who offers hope.  I know, however, that I can only offer it because I have hope – that is trust – in the same God who promised Abram that he would be the Father of a great nation. And that nation is the one from whom Jesus would be born.  

Another favorite movie of mine is “The Sound of Music”.  When the captain and Maria have their realization moment in the gazebo and Maria is asked about her feelings, her answer goes from “I hope so” to “I know so”.

That’s what hope is supposed to do for us.  After waiting in expectation, when the fulfillment of our hopes or dreams comes to pass. . .”  then we know!

Thanks be to God for His great gift!

May your life have enough sunshine

so that  you will appreciate the shadows 

So . . .you like red???

You might call it a rite of passage.  That sort of thing usually happens before one is 74 years of age.

I'm happily sporting a new jacket.

The fun part of the jacket is that it was a dress, a hand-me-down from my friend,  Jean Gilmore.  It's a heavy wool jacket and when it was a dress I may not have been able to wear it more than once so I was delighted when the idea to have it repurposed came into my head.

It's a jacket, not a full-length coat.  It's wool, not suede.

And yet it reminds me of the time that I was headed to college in Tennessee and my mother purchased me a beautiful suede coat.  It was red.

I hated it!

Fast forward many years.

My mother doesn't like the color red.  And what she really doesn't like (or didn't when she was quick to give an opinion) is when I wear red.

How does that happen?  How does "I don't like that" when a person is a child or young adult become something that is a favorite in later years.  And did I not like that suede coat that I took to college as a form of rebellion?  

I've only recently identified that to be a possibility.

For the longest time, I cringed when I felt that my mother was being critical of me when I was wearing red.  Somehow she has begun to feel that red is an angry color.  And she never wanted me to look angry.  Truth be told she really never wanted me to act angry, but that's a different story.

There was a time, really not so long ago, when I would shy away from wearing red when I was going to see my mother.  However, I've finally determined that my mother and I do not have to agree on everything in order to have a good relationship.  Mothers and daughters are allowed to have different tastes and even ideals.

I've been a mother of a daughter for almost 50 years.  We do not agree on everything.  Fortunately for both Becca and her sister, Renee I learned that earlier.  I believe that it is totally acceptable for them not to think just like me.  In fact, I celebrate it.    

I'm pretty sure I'll wear my red jacket when I visit my mother soon. I'll let you know what she says.

 

I never knew it was there

It's all about perspective 

This is  Paddle Boat Lane Park

My neighbors and I combined some of our outdoor furniture
and placed it on the grassy knoll across the Lane from our homes.

It's been a wonderful gathering place.

It's also been a place that made me see things from a different perspective.

One of my favorite signs of Fall are the Golden Raintrees.  I like them for several reasons.

Years ago my mother sent me a photo of her sitting by a Golden Raintree with her friend Jean Marie.  It's not in color.  I have no idea where that photo is.  I just remember it.  And to me, it is a sign of true friendship and that memory warms my heart now that mother is almost 99 years old and what she has left are many memories.

About 15 years ago my granddaughter, Allie, was faced with the beginning of what has been a lifelong health issue.  I was with her and my daughter one Fall as we drove to one of her doctor's appointments.  The road was lined with Golden Raintrees - filled with yellow flowers.  

Allie told me her mother loves those trees especially when the yellow flowers turn bright pink. As it turns out, Allie, who is now 18 has a favorite color - pink.  And when I think of those rides Allie and my daughter shared, I can only be thankful that even though her issue that required doctor's appointments has never gone away, she's an excited college freshman who is loving her life.

I recently thought it strange that I had not seen any Golden Raintrees yet and my friend Evelyn suggested that it might be too soon.

She was right.  

And I got a surprise.

As I sat on a bench in our little neighborhood park I saw it.  Towering over a house on the same side that my house was on - a Golden Raintree.

I never knew that it was there.  

22 years in this house and I had totally missed one of my favorite things.  So I walked to the culdesac at the end of my street to take a photo and got another surprise. 

The yellow flowers are turning to hot pink.

 There are lessons for me in the Golden Raintrees.  I can appreciate the memories my mother enjoys and listen when she shares them.  I am so thankful for the life my granddaughter now enjoys.  And I'm going to keep enjoying sitting on a bench in our little Paddle Boat Park.  

You never know what you might see -- when you look from a different perspective. 

May your life have enough sunshine

so that  you will appreciate the shadows 

 

A poor little widow woman

 Daddy was really good at needling.

If you are not sure what that means - he could take something that started as a bit of a joke or tease and when he saw that it was irritating, he could make it worse.

Now - I'm just stating a fact.  I promise I am not throwing the man so loved and appreciated by so many under the bus.

The words I've chosen as the topic for what I am writing are among those that always drove me crazy.  Especially when it came to my money or my being asked to make a financial contribution to some cause.  It seems he just loved to say

"Don't they know that you are a poor little widow woman?

Somehow I took them as criticism. I heard them as me somehow being a failure.

And yet -

I am a woman.  My husband died.  I am not tall.  And poor - well I don't have lots of money that's for sure.

However, as of late, I have found some ways to appreciate that statement

I facilitate Wonder Women's Bible study - it's a delightful time for study with some dear women.

I help with a Widows and Widowers social time each month.

Sometimes I get hand me downs from other small women

And I can always find a way to keep from being "poor".

As a part of my work for the Mandarin Museum & Historical Society, I was interviewing the President of the Board of the Mandarin Cemetery.

I was blown away by the way he told a story.

"You should write a book,"

"I've been told that before," he said, "But I wouldn't know where to start"

My answer was pretty quick.

 you find a little widow woman who knows how to write. . .

I haven't talked him into that yet, but a great friendship was born that day.

And the way I see it, that's one time I took daddy's needling and used it for my good.

I can just hear him - "I love it"

How bout a little bowl of grits???

What's your comfort food?

In 2002, my son, Tray and his wife, Kristen relocated to the Washington DC area.  While I was so proud of him for the great job he had landed, it broke my heart to think that they were going to be living so far away.  My daughters were still in the area (thankfully) and I knew that all three of my children had done exactly what I wanted - they had all grown into independent adults and didn't need to be mothered, nor did their mother need to be "taken care of".  Everything was right on track.

I  might have known that in my head, but I was having a hard time getting my heart in line.

Moving day arrived and Tray chose to meet me at my parents' home for our goodbyes. 

I thought my heart would break as I watched Tray's truck pull out of the driveway.  I walked into the house and met my daddy coming out of their kitchen. He held a pot in one hand and a bag in the other.  I'll never forget his words -

"How about a little bowl of grits?"

That was 19 years ago.

Today Tray and Kristen left their eldest child in the big bad world of Gainesville.  She's about to start her freshman year.

He texted his sisters and me that this was a time of such mixed emotions.  A later text said, "we will leave for Jacksonville soon -  minus one".

Renee texted him that it's hard - no way to lighten that.  She knows because her eldest child is a senior at Cedarville University in Ohio and the goodbyes are still difficult.  She also knows because her youngest will be delivered to Samford University next week.

The most recent text says "Super excited; super proud, really sad".

And as I read it,  I was reminded of my daddy's words - 

"How bout a little bowl of grits?"

                                                 May your life be filled with enough Sunshine 

to make you appreciate the Shadows

 

Thanks...

Memorial Day, 2021

     I remember something called Decoration Day.  People wore poppies to remember fallen soldiers.  I think that's a holdover from the Civil War.  I was surprised to read recently that the first observance of the day as a Federal holiday was on May 31, 1971.  That's half a century ago.  And through the years we have now extended the day to honor all soldiers who died in American wars.

     Some people think it's a reason for a picnic.  It is the first holiday of summer, part of a three-day weekend and there are almost always great sales.  I was reminded recently that is a solemn day - not one for celebration.  I have red and blue shirts with stars -- that for the fourth of July.  Today - just a red, white and blue outfit. 

     "We are the last generation to appreciate what Memorial Day means," said a woman I met as we both walked through the Mandarin Cemetery this morning.

     That may be true.

     However - at least some of us are still recognizing its value.

    

      I especially appreciated this flag I saw towering over State Road 13 on Sunday, May 30.  I liked it so much that I stopped and took a photo to send to my son who is out of town this weekend.  Later in the day when my friend and I were out for a drive, I insisted that we go across the Julington Creek Bridge so he could see it.

     I felt like I should send whoever has is hanging there a thank you note.

     I know I need to write a thank-you note to those mothers, wives, children, siblings, and friends who lost a loved one in one of our wars.  Most of my friends had an uncle who died in WWII.  Those were our parents' peers.  Many of us at least have contact with someone who died in Viet Nam. And some of us have someone who died in Iraq or Afghanistan. 

     One of my favorite little boys during the '90s was Nathan Clemons.  He was a fine young man who proudly served his country and unfortunately lost his life in that endeavor.  I'll never forget his daddy at his memorial service as a tribute to Nathan came to a close "That's my son."

     And although my dad, my son, and my nephews all came home from their time serving, there's one thing I can thank them for.  They honored (and still honor) the flag!  When Rich Suhey died, my dad insisted that his casket be covered with an American Flag.  When I moved into this house 22 years ago, my dad purchased and hung a flag.  

    When that flag was finally too mildewed and worn, I purchased a new one.  

    If there is one thing my daddy taught me - it's to be thankful for my country - and honor its flag.  Thanks, Daddy.  

     And thanks to Sandy Arpen, Bob Nay, and Joe Walsh for spending a few hours on Saturday to place the flags in our Cemetery.

May your life be filled with enough Sunshine 

to make you appreciate the Shadow

Grandma's Hands

 I wasn't there.

I've just heard about it.

If my grandma, Iva Pauline Mercer Nesmith had a favorite grandchild, it wasn't me.  No doubt she loved me.  

    *When I married Ray Parker and the reception was going to be in my grandparents' home, she planted yellow dahlias in the yard that could be seen from the dining room windows.

    *When I had surgery in 1971 just a few weeks before her death, she spent the afternoon with me at Baptist Hospital.

    *She was one of the reasons I thought I should be a minister's wife.  She had the gift of helps and hospitality that I felt I also had.

However, I never could work quite fast enough for her.  My little sister, Cindy was that grandchild.

And so it was when grandma lay near death, it was Cindy, who sat by her bed and talked to her about her hands - the hands that had cared for the sick fed the hungry, and welcomed so many who needed encouragement into her home.

It was just before 9 AM on Thursday, May 20, 1971.  My mother and her sisters stood by the bedside, my granddaddy kissed her - and Grandma went from here to there (as Granddaddy who believed so much in Heaven) used to say.

Almost my first question as I heard the news about her passing was pretty selfish.  

"Did she know I'm pregnant? "

Yes, and she was delighted.

But those hands would never hold my baby.

I got something better.  On the day that would have been grandma Nesmith's 70th birthday, my mother became a grandma! 

Rebecca Lynn Parker was born at 4:53 on Friday, November 26. 

Someone far greater than any of us had a HAND in that! 

Tears??? You must be kidding

 I was frustrated, no I was perturbed.  Okay, truth be told, I was angry.

Now I have taken lots of steps - prayerful steps - to help with anger.

I was pretty proud of myself recently as I said to a friend, "it's been a long time since I was mad".

What was I upset about?  My Bellsouth email has been inoperable.  No matter what I tried - or asked the professionals to help with - including my awesome connection to Southern Bell - Bellsouth - AT& T brother-in-law, Robert - I just couldn't get it to work.

So I walked away from my laptop and decided to watch a recorded episode (note to my granddaughters - aren't you glad I didn't say I taped it?) of The Good Doctor.

It included the story of a woman who wanted to die and another who suffered a miscarriage.

The anger subsided.  That emotion was replaced with sorrow.

And I began to weep.

Guess what - I don't usually have tears.  People close to me have died.  I miss my Tampa daughter so much, but I can leave her without tears.  There's something about dry eye.  I am old enough for that!

Okay, I do have something to cry about.  My children's dad - who was my college sweetheart and the person I thought was the answer to my desire to become a pastor's wife - is now under Hospice care.

All of the memories of all the years came rushing into my heart -- and spilling down my cheeks. 

Earlier in the day, I had recounted some of the memories with a friend.  As one might expect, they are not just happy memories.  They are the shadows.

I said, "I just hate it that he's going to die."

"Paula, everyone is going to die sooner or later."

Yes, but. . .

I just never dreamed that it was going to have this effect on me. 

I've lost the love of my life (with all due respect to my first husband), my dad, a dear great-niece, my brother, but somehow this is different.

I know that Ray Parker knows he's going to be with Jesus - his parents, grandparents, even the little baby boy that we lost in 1973.  

And I  know that weeping is an acceptable form of grief.  But you know I just don't cry!  I'd rather laugh.

Losing someone we shared a life with is painful.  

I believe that my life today is one that is enriched with family, friends, and opportunities to put my faith into practice.  Those are the sunshine.

And somehow I feel that a part of me is passing and I'm sad.

One of my gifts is compassion when someone loses a loved one.  I always tell them it's okay to cry. 

I guess I'll need to be willing to take my own advice.  Besides as the old gospel song says, "Tears are a language that God understands."

May your life be filled with enough Sunshine 

to make you appreciate the Shadow

A Mother's Day conversation with myself

Mother's Day - 2021

This is my 49th Mother's Day.

I found out that I was pregnant with Becca - 50 years ago on May 10 - the Monday after Mother's Day in 1971.

The conversation between me and the doctor has stayed in my head.  That was back in the day before women always took a home pregnancy test and basically knew they were "with child" long before they were seen by an Obstetrician.

"You are definitely pregnant," were Dr. Jones' words.

"Is it fun to have a baby?", I asked.  What a dumb question, Paula

"It's exciting," was his response.

Hum.  He was right. 'Course he left out words like challenging,, exhausting and somewhat frightening.

This baby was coming at a very difficult time in my life.  

Turns out I really needed a friend - someone to talk to.  I lived in a rural area of Tennessee.  My mother, my sister, and my closest friends lived in Florida.  From that day that I learned there was a baby in my belly, I talked to her (I just always thought my baby was a little girl).  She became my confidant.  That's a lot to put on a baby Paula.

But she brought me so much joy and happiness, I had no trouble being willing to have more babies.

For almost 49 years I have had this card my mother sent to Becca.  You really should give it to Becca, Paula.

These are the words that her grandma sent to her - that all these years later have  proven to be true:

"You won't always see only good in your mother for she is human,"   Boy, that was a true statement.

But as you mature into womanhood you'll accept and love her more I hope that's true

Especially when you have your own little girl."

Mother also wrote of Becca's heritage.  She comes from a long line of strong, Christ-honoring mothers.

Becca never got to meet her grandma's mama. Pauline Mercer Nesmith.  She died just ten days after I learned that I was pregnant - seven months before Becca was born on November 26  - that would have been my Grandma Nesmith's 70th birthday.

I understand that my great-grandma, Marianna Michau Mercer prayed for her children. I am sure that Grandma Nesmith prayed for hers and I'm just one of four children who appreciate the fact that our  mother prayed for us to love God and enjoy him forever (Her favorite words from the Presbyterian Catechism).  I did the same.  And thankfully I am seeing my children follow in our footsteps.

I recently spent 48 hours with Becca, her sister, Renee, and their children.  During that time I saw how my mother's words have become true in my daughters' lives.   

Yes, Dr. Jones - it's fun to have a baby.

And worth the challenges, exhaustion, and fear that comes with it!

Thanks be to God.

May your life be filled with enough Sunshine 

to make you appreciate the Shadow

   

 

Our mother said. . .

   What's your best memory of your mother?  That's a question that is oft-repeated as Mother's Day draws nearer.  My siblings and I and our children have heard the words of Iva Louise Nesmith Huffingham again and again.  We think that what we remember most is the things she said.

 . . . delayed obedience is disobedience

        . . . what's down in the well comes up in the bucket

            . . . sitting that close to a boy will put a crease in his slacks

                . . .your body changes after 11 p.m.

    She was diligent to insure that we were fed, clothed, churched, and educated.  She was never the fun mom.  Everything had a purpose.  If you slept past 7 half the day was gone.  

    As a grandmother, she remained serious.  I don't know that any of our children remember funny things she said or did.

    Oh, there was that one time when she put some sort of color on her hair.  This attempt was on a Saturday night.  It didn't work so she tried desperately to get it out.  She thought she had been successful until the next morning at church when she was the object of great entertainment, at least in her grandsons' opinion.  Her hair was purple. 

    As she has aged, she's still remained very serious.  UNTIL. . .

    Cindy and I were visiting and she began to tell us about this man that "if she was going to have a special friend it was this man whose name is George".  She told us that she had followed him around as he wheeled through the halls - both of them in their wheelchairs.  That in itself was cause for us to smile.

    But when she said "they have a hard time getting him out of the bed," we were aghast.

    I was bold.  I wrote on the whiteboard that we use for communication.  "So are you the kind of friends who share a bed?"

    "ABSOLUTELY NOT", she exclaimed and all three of us enjoyed a hearty laugh.

    Another day she was talking about her funeral, and the fact that she needs to lose weight or they will be stuffing her in the coffin.  We assured her that her weight is fine.  

    She told us that they can split the back of the dress if it's too tight.  Then she asked about her black patent leather shoes.  We told her she won't need shoes in a coffin and she said that was good because I could put them in my closet with all the shoes I own.  She said I needed a pair of shoes about like Robert needs another cap.  I do have a lot of shoes, but we don't know where she got anything about Robert and caps.  Lester and Tray are the cap wearers.

    My point in this is that we enjoy visiting her when she's cracking jokes.  That's a part of her personality we have never seen and we appreciate the opportunity to laugh with her.

    We do know that she has always loved to entertain - and be the center of attention.  She's told us many times about the day she showed her panties to Grandma Nesmith's ladies luncheon.  

    Maybe she really is returning to her childhood.  She is after all, 98 years of age (which she can always remember - even when other facts are fuzzy.)

    Lester and Jennifer, Cindy and Robert, and I are going to see her on Mother's Day. We wonder if she'll ask Lester and Jen about the movies they've been in on the Hallmark channel.  

   Who knows what she might say to us --- I expect we will all listen - and add her words - silly or not - to our memory bank.

And there's one more thing we've heard again and again 

Romans 8:28 is still in the book!

And we will always say -

                                                                 "that's what our mother said."

May your life be filled with enough Sunshine 

to make you appreciate the Shadow

At the foot of the cross

Two friends and I were in a conversation with another friend about his health  We were encouraging him to follow the doctor's orders.  We both wanted him to be with us for a while.

With a smile, he responded: 

"That's all at the foot of the cross".

I was reminded of an old Gospel song

"Leave your heavy burdens at the cross"'

I'm just like everyone else.  I've had to leave heavy burdens at the cross again and again.

You'd think someone who has been a Christian since she  was six years old would have learned to do that 

Yeah right.

In the spring of 1971, I was experiencing a huge disappointment in life.  'talk about a burden.  With the help of my family and some very dear friends, I came to a point that I could leave those burdens at the cross.

Those same people have loved me and prayed for me through other times in my life that I felt a sense of sorrow, disillusionment, and even anger.

I have recently experienced one of those times that I finally left my burden at the foot of the cross.

Oh, I didn't go to our church where there's a beautiful cross on the riverbank and place a bag at the foot of the cross.

One of my dearest friends suggested that  I make a list of the reasons I was burdened.  It was a long list!  My next step was to place the list in an envelope and write:

 I Peter 5:7 - Casting all your care upon Him, for

 He cares for you:

I added these words from a Bill and Gloria song, Something Beautiful

"I wrapped it all in the rags of my life

 and laid it at the cross"

It's been a very freeing experience.  It took me way too long to get there. But I offer it as a suggestion for ANYONE who is feeling burdened by ANYTHING.

It seems a good thing to do on the day we remember and give thanks for what Good Friday is all about.

May your life be filled with enough Sunshine 

to make you appreciate the Shadow

.

Lady in red

 I think her wish has come true

When our mother was in her late 30's she met an older woman who had beautiful white hair and a radiant smile.

"I want to look like that when I am old", mother told our Grandma Nesmith.

"Then you need to start now", Grandma replied.

I think mother was probably a little offended at first.  Whatever did Grandma mean?

The answer was simple.

"Start being that woman today".

To us (and I think most likely to Grandma), mother was already that woman.  She did things for daddy, her children, the community, the church - not always in that order to be truthful.

She also took care of her skin. 

Which is something she still does.

For as long as any of us can remember,  Avon moisturizer has been her twice-daily routine.  At 98 she still wants to have not just the jar she is currently using but a backup.

When I visited her recently I found her napping.  It was the middle of the afternoon and she was wearing pajamas.  They were red.  She never has liked red.  We didn't buy those pajamas.

She was also wearing lipstick.  

The Westminster staff told me that she had refused to change into day clothes that morning. When I asked her about it, she told me she puts them on as soon as they are clean.  

I was most surprised.  She hates red.  Really. Did I mention she never has liked red?  And I promise you, I'm not embellishing the truth.

She thinks red is an angry color.  I often hear that red is my best color, which has made me feel bad since my mother doesn't like it.

Hum -- maybe I can wear red after all.

And more than that - Avon moisturizer.

But most of all - continue to believe that God has a plan - and do what I believe honors him.

Our family so much believes that there is a reason Iva Louise Nesmith Huffingham has lived to be 98 years old.  And we are excited to watch her continue to endeavor to be that person she told grandma that she hoped to become! 

May your life be filled with enough Sunshine 

to make you appreciate the Shadow

.

You have so many friends

 I do have many dear friends.

My children tease me and say I meet someone one day and am having coffee or lunch the next day.

I wasn't very friendly growing up.  I had some sort of "I don't fit" attitude.  I have no idea where that came from.  I did have a few special friends - Bonnie, Linda, John Montgomery.  For a few months, I even had a boyfriend.  But even then I was considered quiet. 

In his letter of recommendation on my college application,   My pastor, Gordon Elliott, described me as a quiet young woman.

Once I arrived on the Bryan College campus in 1965 there was an abrupt personality change. For some reason, I felt like I belonged.  I was comfortable in my own skin.  I believe it was because I was on a Christian campus and I felt like everyone else was like me.  I know now that was not always the case.

That was more than 55 years ago.  In the ensuing years, I have made many dear and lasting friends.

I have wondered - exactly what it is that makes people become friends?  

Hum.

Some of my friends share the same faith walk.  

Some share the tendency to laugh at an inappropriate time

And some share the common love of words.

A time or two in my life I have become friends with a person who is grieving the loss of a mate.

Sometimes I've become friends because I needed encouragement  I really appreciate those people who have reached out to me and filled a gap of some sort of another.

When I was in high school, the youth director visited my parents with some concern.  He said I treated the boys the same way that I treated the girls.

Hum - I have had many dear male friends with no other connection rather than the faith, the laughter, the love of words, or the loss of a mate.

And I have not always had success when I reached out to become someone's friend.  If it doesn't work, it doesn't work and I make an effort to move on without beating myself up wondering what I did that kept it from happening.

I used to complain to my mother that I didn't have any friends.  I was the queen of the pity party.  She told me and told me and told me -- "A ma who has friends must show himeself friendly" (Proverbs 18:24a).

I might have finally learned that!

May your life be filled with enough Sunshine 

to make you appreciate the Shadow

PS If you are reading this - I'm pretty sure that it's because you are my friend.  Thanks!

In your dreams

 

I had never dreamed of going to a Daytona 500.

But when Rich Suhey called me to say he had the opportunity to go and would I go with him - of course, I said yes.

I would have gone anywhere with him.  I was smitten.

I suppose one of the ways he must have known I loved him was that I not only went with him, I enjoyed the day.

All these years later I think of him on Daytona 500 Day.  He loved cars and knew so much about them. 

I remember the day of the 500 in 1999.  Rich had been gone just under three months.  I hurried home from church to be sure I saw the start of the race.  I wondered if somewhere somehow he would be watching the race from the skies.  

That was just a thought of early grief.  

I don't know if my television will even be on this afternoon when the 500 is aired.  I do know that the race is today and I of course remember how much he loved cars.

Hum - I guess one way I knew he loved me was that he wanted to share something that was special to him - with me!

And that's a nice thought on this Valentine's Day, 2021, when romantic love seems far away,

However, today I am creating a birthday card for my youngest granddaughter's 13th birthday.  This week I saw my mother a couple of times, rejoiced with a granddaughter who made a college tour that confirmed her decision to go to Samford University in Birmingham, Alabama, and had a visit with my son.  That's family love.

This week I have also done things I love - I taught the Wonder Women's Bible study after writing the lesson.  I participated in Kiwanis activities and spent some time at the museum where I welcomed a new volunteer, visited with several long time friends, and laughed with a new friend.  

To me - the way the week has gone is a sign that God loves me.  He provides so many wonderful opportunities for me.  And I am truly grateful and blessed.

So I was thinking - memories are great, romance is wonderful, life at 73 years old - it really ain't that bad.

However, if there is a nice man who would like to take me to the Daytona 500 - or for a ride or to dinner or a movie...I might just say yes.  

May your life be filled with enough Sunshine 

to make you appreciate the Shadow

Find your bliss

     Robert Reuben Drashin was born on this day - 74 years ago.    

    We met in the fourth grade.  One day I proudly brought home a flower he had given me at Hogan Spring Glen Elementary - the same flower that my mother and my little sister had seen him "steal" from our neighbor's yard that morning.  For the rest of our lives, he never came to my house without flowers.

     We walked home together every day in the fourth, fifth, and sixth grades, remained friends at Southside Jr. and Englewood.  I went to college in Tennessee and he went to the University of Georgia.  I lived away for many years and when I moved back to Jacksonville he and his wife, Etta,  welcomed me and my children even hosting a party for us.  At our 20th reunion, which was my first, he asked me if I was enjoying "my party".  

     When Rich Suhey died he quickly penned a note that said "anything you need. . ."

     Sometime in the early 2000's and he Etta divorced.  That was when he decided I needed more encouragement.  He kept telling me the same thing - "Paula Sue", he would say "You need to find your bliss".  In his mind, I would do that if I wrote more and if I attached a dollar sign to my words.

     I saw him occasionally and I knew he didn't take good care of himself.  He was overweight but loved dessert; had undergone several heart procedures and was a diabetic  However, I was totally shocked when our friend, Paul Hibel, texted to say that he had died - alone in a small apartment  He was a month shy of 69.

     At his mother's funeral some years earlier, Etta had told me about the Jewish custom of turning dirt when a person was being buried  The meaning behind the turning of the dirt - that's something we can do for the deceased that will not be repaid.  

     So at the end of his service, I took the shovel and turned dirt.  I was the only woman to do this.  I nearly fell into the grave but that's another story.  

      Now - why would I want to give him something?  He had been my friend, yes. And he encouraged me.

     I thought of that early this morning when I remembered that today was his birthday.  I absolutely do what he wanted - I interview and write, I teach and I enjoy so many dear friends.  I remembered a book he had given me. I think he might have been more interested in a different kind of friendship than I was. However, there were more differences between us than the fact that he was such an ardent Bulldog.  A handwritten note is on the first page :

"To get the full value of joy 

you have to have someone to divide it with"  Mark Twain.  

     So here's a message for you dear dear Bobby - I have found my bliss - and I get to divide it again and again.    Thanks!!!

 

May your life be filled with enough Sunshine 

to make you appreciate the Shadow

What will happen to the hawks?

When I moved to Paddle Creek 22 years ago this summer, the south side of Paddle Boat Lane was woods.

One morning there was a wild hog across the way.  I didn't know what to do so I called the police.

When the officer arrived, he was not particularly amused when I asked "what are we supposed to do?"

"Ma'am", he said, "you moved out here."

I'm sure he meant that I (and the other residents of Paddle Creek) had taken control of the land where wildlife had lived forever.

It wasn't too long after that before there were some houses being built in those woods directly across from me.  There's still a grassy knoll where cars of guests to our neighborhood can be parked, dogs walked and friends can visit at the mailbox.

And up until about a month ago, the street was still very quiet.

I returned home after a meeting recently.  It was not a silent night.  I could hear the rush of automobiles on San Jose Boulevard.  This is why:

 The woods that have kept the sound away, not to mention been a home for various animals are gone.

A condominium complex is going to be built.

I miss the woods.

When I walked down to take this photo, a neighbor met me with an alarmed look on his face.

"You know those hawks that we see flying all the time", he asked.

"They lived in one of the oaks that has now been cut down".  He was heartbroken.

I pondered his reaction as I walked back to my home.  I did what most people are doing these days.

I googled it.  Basically "they will go elsewhere".  They were blessed with the innate ability to care for themselves.  That reminded me of a portion of Scripture:  

"Behold the birds of the heaven, that they sow not, neither do they reap, nor gather into barns; and your heavenly Father feedeth them. ' Matthew 6:26

Another neighbor is very concerned about our nation now that we are under a new administration.

So all three of us are worried.

That's not a good thing.  Age is enough reason for me to have wrinkles...no need to add worry.

And there's an answer for all three of us.

"Don't worry about tomorrow", Jesus implored us.  "For tomorrow will take care of itself".

By and by - all the animals that have been displaced will find a home; we will survive a new administration and according to my very smart builder brother, when the buildings have been completed,  the noise from San Jose will not be so bad.

Besides - I've had a lifetime of opportunities to practice what's in the "book" especially those verses from Matthew 6.  No need to stop that now.

May your life be filled with enough Sunshine 

to make you appreciate the Shadow

 

They were right

 I became the older sister - 70 years ago today,

My mother and daddy said I needed a playmate.  They said it would be fun. They said I would like it.

They both had sisters.  Mother had four; daddy had one.  They both had aunts they dearly loved.  Mother especially loved her Aunt Mattie Lou and wanted to name this baby Martha Louise in her honor.  Mother's middle name (Louise) had been chosen because my Grandma Nesmith thought her sister in law was such a wonderful woman.  I'm not sure which of daddy's aunts was especially dear to him.  I do know his sister Gloria Faye was the joy of his life.  He also did not want his child to have the name, Mattie Lou.  

And so it was that the baby was born on daddy's sister's birthday.  He won - the little girl's name would be Cynthia - Cynthia Faye.

I went to St. Luke's with daddy when it was time to bring the baby home from the hospital.  In those days the mother and baby rode home in an ambulance.  I got to ride.  That was the beginning of fun - I guess.

Now I was three and a half years old.  I was well settled in my position as the eldest.  I knew how to show that I was in charge.  I took a crayon and wrote on the back of the living room sofa.  

They said I would get used to sharing.  They said I was still important. 

Hum

70 years later.

I did get used to sharing.  We shared a bed and she could not stand it if my feet touched hers. 

When shared chores - she always washed the dishes and I dried because I always seemed to miss something when I was washing.

My mother told us how she shared clothes with her sisters when they were teenagers.  That didn't happen with us.  She got the tall gene.

We shared secrets.  No comment on that one.  We still do!

We share the joy of finding love - hers still lives!  She cried all the way down the aisle when I married the first time.  She stood with me again when I married Rich Suhey.  Neither of us has really ever truly gotten over that loss.  And I still so appreciate the boy from down the street that she married 48 years ago.  I never think of either one of them without the other.  In fact, I often think of the three of us as "the team".

We have shared joy - babies and grandbabies, houses to decorate, friends to celebrate.

We have shared sorrow - the loss of our daddy, her grandbaby, and now our brother.

We have shared concern - for our mother as she is now under full-time nursing care approaching her 98th birthday.

Don't you just hate it when someone keeps telling you that you are going to like something when you are not exactly sure that will be true?  And then you finally have to admit it.

Yep - I do like having a little sister!  They were right!

May your life be filled with enough Sunshine 

to make you appreciate the Shadow

Give it a REST

I'm not tired.

Haven't we all heard those words from a child who is afraid they will miss something so they don't want to go to sleep?

I've been guilty of that same attitude.

Sometimes I am asked, do you ever stop?  

The answer is simple - if I have an idea of something to do, or someone to see, or a project that must be done, my tendency is to find a way to do it and enjoy every minute of the experience.

Often, those experiences just seem to get dropped in my lap and I enjoy every minute of the fun!

However, as I continue to age (is that a new wrinkle or is my hair really this silver?), I'm realizing it is important to rest. (Please excuse  the top of my friend, Greg's head; Photoshop seems asleep today.)

I am an early riser.  I love watching the darkness turn to light.  There have been a couple of days recently that I did not open my eyes until the sun was shining (that's a secret; don't tell anyone.  My reputation is at stake).

I'm also known to put my pj's on before the sun has really set, but that's another story.

Recently I read a devotion about rest.  The writer said she had chosen the word "REST" as her word for the year.  She went on to say how hard she tried to make that word a part of her life.

Right - that defeated the purpose of claiming the word.  If you don't allow yourself to live into the word, it doesn't work.

As I thought about rest, my mind drifted back to a duet by June Smith and Bill Kindred when our choir at Glendale Community Church was presenting "No Greater Love".  I can almost hear them - "Come unto me, all ye that weary and I will give you rest." That memory gave me a sense of peace - and it made me want to rest!

In the middle of political and social unrest - I keep thinking that I wish people would

GIVE IT A REST

But I know that old saying "no rest for the weary" or is it the "wicked"?

No matter.  What matters is that at some point, we all have to rest - in our faith, in our family, in our friendships and know that all will be well - SOMEDAY

And now I'm not tired, I'm just going to REST MY EYES

May your life be filled with enough Sunshine 

to make you appreciate the Shadow