Angels among us

     They stay in a box in my attic from January 1 until the day after Thanksgiving. They were a gift from my mother when she took a ceramics class when she and daddy lived in Coquina Crossing. This year marks the 25th Anniversary of their appearance in the manger scene that is a part of my Christmas decorations.

     Each of my children is represented by an angel. They are all angelic - most of the time.

   Today is the fourth Sunday of Advent. We light the candle of LOVE.

    The candle also represents the angels who helped prepare the way for Jesus' birth.

     The angel Gabriel announced to Mary that she, a virgin, had been chosen to bring the son of God into the world and an angel told a dreaming Joseph who was betrothed to Mary, the same thing. And then angels appeared to the shepherds and sang to them:

    "Glory to God in the highest and on earth peace goodwill to all"

     At the same time mother made the three angels, she also created this pair.

     They took on more significance this past summer when mother passed away and we began to think of her and daddy together.

     I don't think they have become angels in their death. But I do like to imagine them together like this piece of art represents

     Recently I was asked if I have a guardian angel. I'm not sure about that. There have been times that I could almost hear Rich Suhey's response when I was trying to make a decision. 

     Scripture records that the angels were a preparation tool with regard to the anticipated birth as Mary and Joseph were told and that they proclaimed the actual birth when the shepherds were visited by the angelic hosts on the night of Jesus's birth.

     One thing I know about our parents - they prepared us for what was ahead. They took us to Sunday School, they proclaimed their personal faith and trust in Jesus and they taught us to love.

     Daddy was born on this day (12/18) in 1921. He grew up to love God, our mother, us and our children and grandchildren, golf, and the gators.

     Both of our parents taught us to love each other and our neighbor.

     Don Goodman and Becky Hobbs wrote the song Angels among us in 1986 and Alabama recorded it in 1993. These words speak to me:

"I believe there are angels among us. . .

 to show us how to live to teach us how to give 

to guide us with the light of love. . .".

     In my daydreaming kind of world, I'd like to believe that the little nudge I get might be from Rich or one of my parents. But I don't believe that anyone who has gone on "from here to there" as was my granddaddy Nesmith's favorite way to express one's passing has become an angel.

     I do believe that my parents loved each other and us beyond measure. I believe that Rich Suhey truly loved me.

     And they all get some of the credit for teaching me --

To Love!!!

 May your life have enough sunshine, 

                                                      To make you appreciate the shadows

A bird dog named Joy

 The third candle of Advent is JOY

I've been minimally interested in dogs for most of my life  A cocker spaniel named Nicodemus when I was a child, a basset hound named Samantha when I was a senior in high school, and a miniature French Poodle until Tray was a baby have been the extent of my connections with dogs.  I can tell you that the connection to dogs was closer than my interest in cats but that's another story.

And then just about a year ago I met a bird dog named Joy.  When I visit the home where she lives, I am met with great excitement.  I love to watch her run across the yard.  She reminds me of what I think a gazelle looks like - so graceful and so sure of herself.

True her owner is my best friend and I have known of his love for bird dogs as long as I have known him which is by now just shy of two years. He says she's learning to hunt for quail.  I say she's here for my enjoyment.  He won't let her come to my house for a visit.  He says it's because there's no place for her to run in my yard, but I know it's because he fears that she will climb up on my bed and enjoy a cold winter's night.

Why does this dog mean this much?  She arrived just prior to Christmas.  She was supposed to be housebroken, but she wasted no time trying to destroy a Christmas tree and all of the glass ornaments.

Was JOY the right name?  Maybe Destroyer would be better.  However - she has by now lived up to her name.  

I mean really how could she not?

    

This week our Advent emphasis has been on joy. 

 "Stir up your power, O Lord, and with great might come among us", (from the Collect, the Red Book of Common  Prayer, Third Sunday in Advent).

Sometimes in our everyday life, we are sad or discouraged.  And, sometimes our lives feel like my friend's living room looked after Joy arrived.  Each of us has a cross to bear, but we don't have to dwell in the mire of defeat.

When we make an effort we can find joy even in our grief.  My cousin, Evelyn Nesmith Campbell's husband, Jim, determined for his life to be one of joy even as he knew that life was going to be shorter than he wanted.  Since his death more than 7 years ago now, Evelyn has been such a great example of choosing Joy,

I would be less than truthful if I claimed to have joy all the time.  Even though a bird dog named Joy makes me smile, I know that it takes a little more.  It really is a dedicated attitude of the heart.

And a determination to make these words a practice of my life each day:

Sometimes we have to add a little joy to our struggles and let God STIR it all up!!!!

 May your life have enough sunshine, 

                                                      To make you appreciate the shadows

All is well. . .

The second candle of Advent is peace.

Do you have words that you often repeat? They are called a catchphrase.

I knew I often say, "all is well" and I was "pretty sure" of the meaning but I  googled the word "catchphrase"  just to be sure. "it is an expression recognized by its repeated utterance".

So, I wondered why have those three words become a catchphrase for me.

And not only did I wonder -- I pondered.

That made me think of the words of Mary the mother of Jesus when the shepherds came to visit the baby who had been born in a manger but I'm concentrating on the second Sunday of Advent, and we are awaiting the birth.  You might say I'm getting ahead of my story.

Which is why do I say, “all is well".

Because it is.  In other words  "I am at peace".

"When peace like a river attendeth my soul, when sorrows like sea billows roll; whatever my lot thou has taught me to say it is well, it is well with my soul. . . "

Those words are from a song that has been dear to me since I was a high school senior. I think that's the first time I remember hearing it.  The story of how Horatio Spafford a successful attorney and real estate investor lost his fortune and a child about the time of the 1871 Great Chicago fire. He determined that a family vacation would be good, so he put his wife and their four daughters on a ship to England and planned to follow them. The ship was involved in a collision and all four daughters were lost.  His wife survived.  He set sail for England right away and when the ship arrived at the spot of the tragedy, he penned the lyrics for what would become the song "It is Well with My Soul".   Later Philip P. Bliss wrote the music.

When I think about the amount of pain that Stafford was surely feeling as he knew he was on the very spot where his children had perished it seems unimaginable to me that he could write such strong words of belief in God. Sometimes just a photo of my three children makes me shudder and tear up. The thought of losing any of them is unbearable - but all three. No way.

And feel a sense of peace???

I am fortunate that I often have the opportunity to enjoy the beauty of the river and creek that are near my home. Sometimes it's because I am at the Episcopal Church of Our Savior and sometimes it's because I am at Walter Jones Park.  Then I can appreciate the St. Johns River. Sometimes I need to cross Julington Creek in order to visit my children, or my aunt and until this past July my mother when she was a resident at Westminster Woods. And yes, sometimes I get to enjoy Julington Creek from the home of my best friend.

Which is to say that I understand the words - peace like a river. I also know that sometimes that same body of water can be anything but peaceful as was the case a few weeks ago when the winds of hurricane Nicole brought the water beyond the banks of both our beloved river and our creeks.  Hurricane season is supposed to end on November 1. It was November 10. Schools and workplaces shut down. Fortunately, the storm did minor damage. That might be a matter of opinion...  It still made the creek rise.

However . . . 

It is a good picture of life. . .which can be so unpredictable.  A joyful time can turn to one of sorrow quickly. But a distressing situation can become a blessing.

That's why it's good to know - the way the song ends.

"Whatever my lot, thou has taught me to say  It is well, it is well with my soul"

Yes. I know I am a Pollyanna. I know I always think things are going to work out for the best.  I also know that sometimes best is a difficult pill to swallow.  

I just know that my best recourse when the sea billows roll, and the river seems far from peaceful is to put these words into my heart:

 "Do not be anxious about anything, but in every situation, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God. And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus" (Philippians 4:6,7)

Those words and my belief that they are true are the foundation for me to continue to respond

"All is well"

                                                May your life have enough sunshine, 

                                                To make you appreciate the shadows

This house believes

 My friend, Karen, found a sign at a yard sale and said she thought of me immediately.  I was touched that it reminded her of me.

I think it's fairly clear that I believe in America and the Florida Gators ("whether we win or we lose").  But that's not what is  the most important 

I also believe in love and joy and peace and HOPE   - sounds like an advertisement for Advent.

Even though our parents were Methodists when they were children, the liturgical practice that observed Advent did not come with them when their parents were a part of starting Glendale Community Church in the late 1930s.  It was only when they began to attend the University Blvd Church of the Nazarene (whose roots are also in Methodism) that we learned about Advent.  So for more than 35 years, I have appreciated this season. And I always have an Advent wreath and write something about the theme of the four Sundays before Christmas.

As a part of his homily at our church service on the first day of Advent 2022, the Rev. George Hinchliffe asked us to participate in the verbiage included in our Baptismal Covenant.  Following the message we stood (as we do each time we are worshipping together) and read (or recited) the Nicene Creed. https://www.ccel.org › creeds › nicene.creed.html.

l.org › creeds › nicene.creed.html

That's what this house believes  as far as the basic tenets of my faith

However.  . .

When we were little children our parents taught us that although Santa Claus is not real we could believe and practice the spirit of Christmas.  There were always unwrapped gifts under the tree - our Santa stuff.  We also left a cold drink (I think Pepsi) crackers and cheese for Santa.  Not milk and cookies for our daddy.  It was all about the GIVING (God gave His Son - John 3:16).

It was Christmas 1984.  My children and I were getting the hang of this single-family business.  There was not a lot of money, but somehow there was always fun.  That was the year that we watched a Kenny Rogers and Dolly Parton Christmas Special  From that day to this one of my favorite Christmas songs is I believe in Santa Claus

It's a rollicking down-home country rendition performed as only Kenny and Dolly could do. After they sing about miracles and magic and forgiving and forgetting - and the fact that love should prevail at any cost  and lots of feel-good words of wisdom is this line:

"I believe there's always hope when all seems lost"

When I was thinking about what I wanted to write about HOPE for the first Sunday in Advent, I googled "Scripture that has the word hope" So many verses but this one from Psalm 71:14a seemed most appropriate

"As for me, I will always have hope"

If you read all of Psalm 71 you will see that the writer was in a state of despair.  Life was not good. If you are like me, then there have been times when you were sure there was no hope.  The writer of Psalm 71 expressed much despair.  And yet throughout the chapter, there are words that indicate some sort of restitution - and answer to the struggles.   

And so I am glad that

                                                                        and has a reason for hope.

"The Lord delights in those who fear (honor; respect) Him and those who put their HOPE in his unfailing love" Psalm 147:11

                                               May your life have enough sunshine, 

                                                To make you appreciate the shadows

Thank you for the spinach

Spinach???

In a salad - okay

But from a can - the one Popeye used to think gave him strength?

Not a chance

In fact, there's a box of frozen spinach in my freezer. I didn't pay enough attention when I was purchasing for ingredients for a Happy Birthday broccoli casserole for my son in law, Dale.  Who knows why I didn’t take it back to Publix?

Back to the Spinach

One of my favorite Ray Parker Thanksgiving messages was about his mother encouraging him to eat his spinach so that he could have the chocolate cake that was for dessert.  His point - sometimes we have to experience bad before we can appreciate the good

The lives of me and my children and Ray Parker became an excellent example of that (Romans 8:28)

But that’s all in the past

In many ways, I feel like I have experienced way too much bad this year.  I've been pretty noisy about events in my life between April 21 and July 15.  I lost two uncles, had a vehicle accident that not only totaled my ride but caused me to have a brain bleed.  My siblings and I determined that our mother needed to be under Hospice care in early June.  She went to be with the Lord and our daddy on July 5 and on July 12 I tested positive for Covid.

I remembered the words from Uncle Howard's eulogy when Rich Suhey died (24 years ago "but who's counting?).  He pulled a line from an Ink Spots song “Into each life some rain must fall, but too much is falling in mine".  The aforementioned Ink Spots were an American pop vocal group who gained international fame in the 1930s and 1940s.

It has felt like so many things have happened in my life (and the lives of those I love like my siblings our children our aunts and our cousins).

I loved that dark green Honda Accord.  Somehow it reminded me of the dark green Jaguar that Rich Suhey bought just four months before his death. I have been more upset over the loss of that car than I was with the fact that I had a brain injury.  Besides, it was a minor bleed.

My mother had been such a dear friend in my life.  She never minded helping me get on the right road when I was feeling sorry for myself.  She always had a solution (even when I didn't ask for one).  Although our relationship had changed as I became the parent (which she disliked vehemently) I look back on our relationship with much thanksgiving.  While I am relieved that she is no longer in a state of confusion, I still feel a great void at my loss.

So, I’d say those two things are my major dose of spinach this year.... But wait can there be chocolate cake?

After months of waiting for the right vehicle, I am the owner of a Honda CRV with much thanks to my son-in-law, Dale.

And because of the loss of my mother, I attended a Grief Share Group that has been so very helpful.  As I participated, I realized that in the last two years I had experienced other deaths that I had not really grieved - my brother at the end of 2020 and my children’s dad in the middle of 2021. Through Grief Share, I have identified that while my most recent loss is my mother, my most devastating loss is my husband, Rich  Both of them were very dear friends

I just knew I would never have a friend who was as dear to me as Rich - and most people know that thanks to my friend, Burt Wasamund, I interviewed and wrote a story about the President of the Mandarin Cemetery Board and somehow, I have a new best friend

He doesn't like canned spinach either!

                                                 May your life have enough sunshine, 

                                                To make you appreciate the shadows

I love the Mandarin Cemetery

Now really.  Who loves a cemetery?

Well. . . 

For about 9 months I've had a part-time position at the Mandarin Cemetery.  When there is a funeral, I stand near the gate and welcome the mourners.  Welcome seems like an odd word, but I basically am there to provide some direction

Now  . . . I believe there has always been a Plan - God's Plan - to get me where I am.

When I was a teenager, I made a promise to serve God for the rest of my life.

That life has included many opportunities - ministry opportunities.

And the Mandarin Cemetery has become a place that I can minister

To be truthful it does include partnering with the man who has become my best friend, and I do get a little jingle for my wallet.  And of course, I get to enjoy the cemetery's beauty when I am there.

And somehow, I always seem to experience a sense of peace.

This was especially true for me as I knew my mother was soon going to Heaven. And in the months since that happened I have not only found peace but . . . 

There was a large funeral at the Mandarin Cemetery recently.  It required two tents, and 61 automobiles lined the dirt roads that led to the burial plot.

Clad in my orange vest, I greeted the mourners as they lowered the car windows with a puzzled look . . .

“Take the first right and you will be given further direction,” I sounded like a broken record.

People don’t usually stop to chat. 

And yet a woman alone in her vehicle stopped and asked, “Where am I supposed to park”? And then with tears in her eyes, she said "We are burying my mama".

I responded with “I get it.  I lost my mother a few months ago".  

"Really”, she said, and then "Can I give you a hug?"

I leaned into her car window, and she put her arms around me.

The funeral ended and as that woman left the cemetery, she said to me "I'll always remember you and your kindness to me today".

I smiled and she asked if she could give me another hug.  She then invited me to join her family for the after-funeral meal etc., and I politely refused.

With great excitement, I told my friend (the reason I have this ‘gig’) about what had transpired between the grieving daughter and me and he responded with just one word:

Ministry

And that is why I love the Mandarin Cemetery

That and the fact that while I am there, I experience a great sense of peace.  When the time arrives for a funeral to begin, I close the gates.  My goal is to sit quietly and meditate.  It’s a very helpful part of my life. I would offer a similar opportunity to others.   

Our cemetery is a lovely place where you can enjoy Mandarin’s beauty.  Of course, it is a very still place.  But a five-minute drive or walk on the grounds can provide the surrounding that will help you experience a sense of peace.

You know me, I always want to share what I have with others.  That’s one reason I write this blog!

                                                May your life have enough sunshine, 

                                                To make you appreciate the shadows

Peace in the Midst of the Storm

The storm is coming and I am prepared.  I understand the issues that can be created when the winds and rains of a hurricane are upon us. 

I have memories of many such occurrences.

I remember when we missed school for a week - when our family of six slept on the floor (on mattresses) and listened as the wind howled through the trees near Pottsburg Creek.  That was in 1964. And the name of the Hurricane was Dora.

All these years later I live in Mandarin.  My friends here have vivid memories of  that Hurricane.  Anne Morrow was standing at her bedroom window when a tree fell into the beloved Stowe window at the Episcopal Church of Our Saviour.  

At this time in my life, I'm very aware of that tragedy.  Not only am I a member at Our Saviour, I'm the volunteer coordinator at the Mandarin Museum, so I know a little about Harriet Beecher Stowe's 17 winters on our beloved St. Johns.

I like that connection.  I had no clue as a high school senior that there might be something that tragic happening on the other side of our county.  And who would have dreamed that 58 years later, I would be this closely aligned to it.

From Dora to Ian - many hurricane experiences and memories and strangely, I don't remember being concerned about hurricanes when I lived in other parts of the country.  Certainly not the way our family memories seem to be interested in our well-being when our area is in harm's way (for which I am grateful).

As I reach into my memory bank I remember Hugo - nothing between Dora and Hugo - I'm sure there were others.  I just can't remember them (that would be something most people would not believe - Paula not remembering).

I do remember driving through South Carolina and seeing the destruction that Hugo's path left.  I think that was in 1989,  I usually remember what was going on with our family in relation to a hurricane.  Renee was a Freshman at Stetson for Andrew, Tray was about to marry Kristen when Floyd was the issue. 

 And then there's the year that daddy was concerned that a rescue vehicle might not make it down our street if the wobbly tree across the way fell.  The name of the hurricane nor the year are in my memories.  I just remember how grateful daddy was when I called the JSO non-emergency hotline and was told they had it under control. 

Five years ago I heard the trees fall on my deck as Irma passed through.  Renee had been forced to evacuate Naples.  During Ian, I have been so grateful that she and Wally live in Nashville as I see the photos that are coming out of Southwest Florida.

I am also grateful that my mother is not at Westminister Woods as she was in 2019 when the patients were evacuated.  She has been at Westminster only a few months and the move took a toll on her.  She was most confused.  Not sure I was grateful then.

But these are my memories. 

About 18 months ago Bill Morrow shared the memory of one of his friends. And that story had a profound impact on me.  

In fact, it is now my favorite hurricane memory and it's not even mine

It seems that this man's wife had recently had a hip replacement.  They lived on Julington Creek and he brought her home from rehab the day before Hurricane Irma was headed this way.

She slept in a recliner and just before dawn he woke her.  She asked about the creek and was told - it's high.  She was afraid.

"What are we going to do?", she asked her husband.

He was calm.  He knew there was nothing to do.  

So he told her they were going to have a cup of coffee.

And the way the story goes, her fears were eliminated.   Unfortunately, while nothing bad happened that day to the man and his wife, the waters did destroy the foundation of their home.  So he built her a new home - right on that same spot. 

I didn’t know her but I believe that she was very grateful for the home that she enjoyed for just 18 months before she passed away.

I had met the man only briefly when Bill told me this story.  I was already interested to learn more about him.  And after hearing the story I knew – this was a very kind man.

So here’s another thing I am grateful for as Hurricane Ian makes its way toward us - that man is my best friend - who still believes a cup of coffee works -- 

May your life have enough sunshine,  To make you appreciate the shadows

 

By God's providence

You might have heard me say this:

"My father was born here; my siblings and I were born here; my parents have 11 grandchildren and 8 of them were born here - my children were born in Chattanooga".

Of course, by God's providence, I ended up raising my children - here.

In Jacksonville.

We had been here only a short time when my mother suggested that I take something she had written about loving life in the area of town we lived - southside - and rewrite it.  As it happened the Florida Times-Union was running a series where they invited readers to submit a story under the title "I Love where I Live".

That was 40 years ago.  And fortunately, the TU editors liked what I wrote.  It was the first time I was paid for my words - $50.

Between 1965 and 1982, I lived in Tennessee, Georgia, North Carolina and Kentucky.  I remember that during football season I was glued to a television on the day of the Florida-Georgia game because I knew there would be shots of the Jacksonville skyline.  When my marriage ended in '82 my former mother-in-law's words to me were 

"You should be happy - you get to live in Jacksonville."

Again, by God's providence, I got to raise my children here.

And now I live in Mandarin.  I really love living here.  From the beauty of our area - trees and the river; to the interesting history to the wonderful sense of community - this is an area of the city I love - that gives me a sense of peace.

At this time in my life, I have the privilege of sharing the story of Mandarin's history as the only paid employee at the Mandarin Museum & Historical Society.  I can often be found enjoying the tranquility of the river (or Julington Creek) and I appreciate the opportunities of community - like the sale of pumpkins at Mandarin United Methodist, the Food Trucks and Music evenings at the Episcopal Church of Our Saviour and Arts Festival that the Mandarin Community Club sponsors.  

When I wrote that first "I love where I live" my life had been shattered.  I had found peace and tranquility in that old house on Ryar Road.  My parents and my siblings, the memories of my life growing up there, and the fact that there was a swimming pool where I could sit, rest, and regroup were helpful.

In the last 21 months I have had five losses - some more life-shattering than others - but still losses. I was also involved in a frightening automobile accident and had a nasty case of COVID.  

"You are powering through your losses", my dear friend Deb told me. 

She was kindly chiding me - my words were not positive.  I was grumpy.  I was very negative about my current state.  I was acting like this saying from my childhood:

"Nobody likes me; everybody hates me;

 I'm gonna go and eat some worms"

When I typed the last statement I made a typographical error.  I typed words rather than worms.  Someitmes I need to do that - eat my words - because sometimes that's all I am -  words -- trying to gloss over the fact that sometimes (like yesterday) I am really in a slump.

 And no doubt about it - yesterday I was in a slump - and thankfully I have friends like Deb who can give me a push and help me.

This morning I've been endeavoring to recapture what I did to survive - 40 years ago.  

I am so busy powering through that that I am not taking the time to reflect, rest and regroup. 

And really appreciate the fact that I love where I live - from the history to the beauty to the sense of community I enjoy. NOT to mention the friends who are standing by my side at this time!

I really do believe that this is by God's providence. 

May your life have enough sunshine,

To make you appreciate the shadows

 

13 years ago today

He was three months shy of his 88th birthday.  The long hot summer was coming to an end.  It had included visits from family and friends who thanked him for what he had meant in their lives.

As I finished getting ready for work, he asked me (more than once) if I was not going to work that day.

He asked my mother if they had anything they needed to talk about.

The morning was quiet and then just after noon he was suddenly in excruciating pain.  The Hospice nurse returned and our family began to gather around his bedside.

He rejected the meds that were given, and I told him they were helping him relax.

Rev. Kevin Pound arrived and leaned into his ear, personalizing the words of Psalm 23.

"The Lord is Earl's shepherd; You have prepared a place for Earl. . ."

And then somehow - those words and the medicine helped and daddy sort of wafted out the window.  I've read that it is the custom of some to open the windows when it's time for a person to die.  That makes it easier for the spirit to leave the body.

That wasn't necessary in daddy's case.    

Now, why do I remember each of these details and the ones I’ve not shared on the page.  

I was lamenting this to one of my aunts earlier this week I said it feels weird that I remember all these things - and keep writing about both my parents and their passing.

Aunt Beth's words of wisdom came back to me.

You have been close, physically and emotionally, to both Earl and Iva.  It seems to me, that when we have many things around us like dates, Bible verses, Gators, present for their death, etc. that continue to bring memories to mind we’ll continue to feel that loss more often than those who have had less things that remind us of them.  

And what happens to me - as my thoughts go to the day that something significant happened?  I get a little teary, a lot gloomy, and find it difficult to focus. Then most fortuitously I often can almost hear my dad's words when what felt like the weight of the world lay heavily on my shoulders.

"Snap out of it", he often said.

So, I write, I clean house, I listen to music (while cleaning house) and by and by the sadness dissipates - sometimes the same way that I felt my father's spirit just sort of wafted out the window.

And I concentrate on the good memories - the laughter and the fun we shared.  Remembering daddy on this day  

His faith (and the way he taught us to live by it); His love for God, Golf, and the Gators - and of course his love for our mother, my siblings and me,  and our children, etc.  

We are beyond fortunate to have the heritage we share because of Earl Ray Huffingham - 12/18/21  09/16/09. 

                                                              May your life have enough sunshine   

To make you appreciate the shadows

Work a little; Pray a lot!

 Dear Mother

I've been thinking of you today.

For a couple of reasons.

Today is Labor Day.  You always enjoyed this day because you liked to work and you enjoyed encouraging others to work as well.

This morning I pressure-washed part of the driveway and the floor in the garage.  It was fun but it was work.  As often happens in projects like this, the machinery had an issue so the job is not complete.  However, you will be happy to know that those nasty oil spots in the garage - actually they were more like oil puddles - are almost gone.  I just need to get some sort of abrasive cleaner and use a bit of elbow grease and the floor will be ready for my new car (when I finally get one).

As I worked on the floor I remembered the time that you had heard that cat litter would soak up oil.  I'll never forget my surprise to find a cat-litter-covered floor and my mother standing at the kitchen door - ready to hand me a broom for my part of the project.

You liked to work - and you taught us to work.

You also liked to pray - and you taught us to pray.  I don't really like this photo but it speaks so loud as to who you were.  I remember when I told you not to cry because you were not pretty when you cried.  I guess it might be the same as when you prayed.

However - praying is the second reason that I have thought of you today - on the 2-month anniversary of your passing.

I've wondered if there's any way that you heard our words to you - that afternoon and evening - words of love and appreciation.  

Did you hear your fourth grandchild, Renee, quote Scripture and as I have said many times - pray her grandma into Heaven?  Renee's words remain in my heart and mind and continue to give me comfort.  "You have fought the fight; you have finished the course; there's a crowd of witnesses waiting on you.  You are leaving a wonderful legacy." (I do like that 2019 photo)

I have also remembered something similar when Renee and her husband, Wally, and their daughters were here in 2009 to tell daddy goodbye.  They were about to return to Tampa when Wally stood by daddy's bed and prayed for him. 

The memories of both of those times give me comfort!  

So on this Labor Day 2022, I am remembering you - both your strong work ethic and the prayer life that was so much a part of who you were.

Renee is correct - You left a great legacy.

 May your life have enough sunshine   

To make you appreciate the shadows

Thanks for sharing your mother

 "Your mother was 'before her time'", remarked my friend, Louise, when she reflected on the celebration of life service following our mother's passing.

She was referring to the fact that she had heard about mother's travels between 1958 and 1964 when she was first the Vice President and then Chaplain of the Auxiliary of Gideons International.  

The back story is that she wanted to go to Bible School when my sister, Cindy, and I were little girls.  Daddy did not feel called to do that.  He told her that he would care for us but it wasn't something he wanted for himself.  I believe she did some investigating to see if that could happen.  At some point however she gave it up.

And then our dad heard about an organization known as the Gideons,a ministry that focused on placing Bibles in hotels as well as providing New Testaments for service men and fifth graders.  And he joined.

Mother was delighted to learn of the Auxiliary whose focus was to give New Testaments to nurses.

Their involvement in the Gideons provided my siblings and me with memories of visiting many states and we made some friends who remain dear to us. Between first grade and my senior year of high school, we attended 12 International Conventions.  Chicago, Atlanta, Denver, Los Angeles are just a few of the cities we visited.  

We were in Louisville in 1958 when our mother was elected to a three-year term as the International Vice President of the Auxiliary.  That meant she would travel to state conventions (about one a month) and be the keynote speaker.

She loved it!  

Of course, our first brother was born in 1959 and the second in 1961 and you would think that would deter her.  

It didn't have to.  She had help.  Cindy and me.  And grandma and Aunt Carolyn and Aunt Gloria. AND of course, she had daddy - her "honey" always her most ardent supporter!!!

Mother has told us that this was a highlight in her life.

After three years as Vice President, she was elected to the office of Chaplain.

One of the responsibilities of that position was that she wrote a sympathy letter to the widow of each Gideon who died.  It was a form letter so that would be a great way for her daughter, at this time a High School Junior who was taking typing to get some experience.

I hated it.

I have remembered that this week.  Two cards have come to me from people I do not know.  Their messages are similar.  They are expressions of sympathy from people who have the same responsibility as our mother did.  As I opened them I could see myself hammering away on those letters.

One of them also indicated that some Bibles had been purchased in  mother's memory. Our friends,  Rick Darrow (and his wife, Patricia) and Kathy Darrow Constant also gave Bibles.

It is very dear to remember how much mother enjoyed the Auxiliary.  And I love the note that was included in one of the cards. 

"Thank you for sharing your mom with us in this ministry.  Because she gave many of us are here today".

Truth be told, I don't think Cindy and I really were happy sharing our mother.  However, we both know that she got a huge blessing through this, and for that we are thankful.  We also know that we got a few perks - the trips we enjoyed bring back many happy memories - and we also met some interesting and influential people

Before he had a stand-up comedy act, Jerry Clower was a Gideon and our dad's friend.  Pat Zondervan was not only a Gideon but, as his name indicates, a partner in the well-known Christian Publishing Company.  And there are those dear people - Duane and Barbara Darrow, Guy and Allie Sanders, Walter and Elvira Buckingham who loved our parents and us and encouraged us in our walk with God.  

So when we remember the years of "sharing our mother" we also remember the happy memories - and appreciate the nice notes we are receiving that say "your mother made a difference".

And yes she was a bit ahead of her time!

May your life have enough sunshine   

To make you appreciate the shadows

"Lord, say hello to Mama"

 This is a strange title for this blog – since I called Iva Louise Nesmith Huffingham – mother. 

However

 I knew this was going to happen.  Friends had told me but I wasn’t sure I believed them.

I saw a Facebook post.  Royce Credle Hamilton had died.

My first thought was “I need to tell mother”.

Royce was one of the three daughters of Jim and Estelle Credle. Jim's mother Creola, was my grandma Nesmiths oldest sister.  My mother always thought highly of the Credle family. 

It was strange for me to come to the realization that my mother is no longer at Westminster Woods.  It’s now been six weeks since we said goodbye – six weeks since we sent her on to be with “the Lord and our daddy”.

But what do I do with the things I think she should know – or that I just absolutely must share?  Most people know me to be a chatterbox.  And I usually tell way too many details. 

In the case of family matters, I am very grateful that my mother’s sisters are appreciative of the news that I share. Even when it’s something sad. I sent Aunt Ann, Aunt Beth and Aunt Carolyn a text.  And as I typed I was glad to know that while my mother is not here - they are!

And as for the name of the blog.

When our Papa (Ted Huffingham, Sr.) died in 1967, my brother, Lester was six years old.  Death was a strange phenomenon to him.  He only knew that Heaven was somewhere "in the sky".  One night he looked up into the sky and said “Lord, say hello to Papa”.  Just four years later Grandma Nesmith, died at the early age of 69.

My mother told me that she often thought of something that she wanted to tell Grandma. So she would just talk to God about what she wanted her mother to know.  She used Lester's words.  

The five Nesmith sisters put together a book of their memories and my mother's chapter is named "Lord, say hello to Mama".

My experience in reading about Royce and wanting to tell my mother is just the first of what I am sure will be many.  There will be things that I really think my mother would like to know.  And I’m going to practice what she did - I'll talk with God like I'm talking with her.

I will also tell my aunts - and anyone else who will listen.

May your life have enough sunshine   

To make you appreciate the shadows

My mother's words

 My parents came to live with me in 2005.

That meant they brought all of their possessions - from kitchen to bath things to the keepsakes they had accumulated in what was at that time 63 years. From that time until today some items have been passed to family members and some stayed with her from here to Texas in 2013 and back in 2015 when she moved to Assisted Living and then to full-time health care in 2019.  

And some things stayed right here in my home.  

So as of late, I've spent some time determining - what to keep and what to toss, and what might someone who loved her enjoy.

This is not an easy task.

However - this is not so much about the things - It's about her journals (and I know a journal is a thing).

And it's more about the words that are in those journals and in the many Bibles that she had  

The night that my mother died, one of her great-granddaughters opened the Bible that was by the bed. It’s probably difficult to read her words: 

"where Earl is".

Thirteen years ago, when our daddy was dying, Rev. Kevin Pound had personalized Psalm 23 as he prayed. I remember that his words were that Earl was going to "dwell in the house of the Lord forever". 

Mother had those words inscribed on daddy's marker at Greenlawn. And now she has joined him.

Some time ago she told me that one day I would be happy that I have her journals. And every now and then I'll pick one up and thumb through it. I'm sure that as the days turn into months and years, I will appreciate the fact that I can read what she wrote.

Of course, words are very important to me. I have binder after binder that include my words. 

I kept thinking about the words "Write this down" and when I googled them, I found a George Strait song. Now I love to hear him sing and I even like that song, but I was 'trying to be 'spiritual'. So, I changed the search - Bible verses that tell us to write things down.

Found them. In the book of Numbers, Moses was commanded to write the stages of the journey of the Israelites as they were 'bound for the promised land'. Later it is recorded in Jeremiah that he was commanded to write what he had heard, and the Apostle John was told to write what he saw (Revelation 1:19).

My mother’s words - I'm happy to have them. The words in Scripture - I appreciate   My children are going to find volumes of my words. And now if I can just get my friend to let me put his words in print. 

May your life have enough sunshine   

To make you appreciate the shadows