What's in a name?

One more reason to purchase a Hallmark card

Today is Grandparents Day.

It was almost 25 years ago. 

I was just a few weeks shy of my first year of widowhood.  I had purchased a home, my youngest child had married, and I was settling into a life much different than I had envisioned.

Because I was a Vistakon employee, I had the privilege of shopping in the  J&J Company store. I was visiting my daughter, Renee, when she handed me a piece of paper containing a list she had made.

It was innocuous: Q-tips, Tylenol, No More Tears shampoo, Johnson & Johnson Baby Powder—a name my first grandchild could call me.

And so it was, on June 1, 2000, a date that would forever be etched in my heart; my first grandchild was born. I was delighted.  Happy to have a granddaughter - but happier that Renee, who had loved babies since she was not much more than a baby herself, had the opportunity to be a mother. 

Then, when that granddaughter was about nine months old,  I kept my little Amazing for about four hours, and  I've never been the same.

With the arrival of each new grandchild, my heart expanded with love. Each one brought a unique joy and a deeper understanding of what it means to be a grandma.

Early on, I determined that I wanted to be the fun grandma. A friend suggested that I be called Grand, which made sense. Grandma seemed like an old person.

That is until my third grandchild was born, and her daddy, who loved his grandma (my mother), wanted me to be Grandma.  

It really doesn't matter what they call me - as long as they let me "love on them."

I had one "fun grandmother."  She loved pretty clothes, shoes, and laughter. My other grandmother was stern, even though she was very hospitable and kind. In her later years, she also loved pretty clothes.

Grandmother took me shopping.  Grandma held my wedding reception in her home and focused on my yellow color scheme when she planted yellow dahlias that could be seen from the dining room.  I'm pretty sure that the Paula I am today is a little like Lonnie and also a little like Pauline.  

My second granddaughter was about 7 when she encouraged me to write a blog. I knew I couldn't include my grandchildren's names in anything I published.

She suggested, "Here's what you should do, Grand. 

Give us a name that says who we are."

Her idea was that she would be Awesome, and she continues to represent that word greatly.

One more note about this grandma thing. Although this is not something I am proud of, I was very jealous of my mother's relationship with my first child. Recently, I had a little ah-ha moment when I remembered that my mother might have been just a tad jealous of my relationship with Daddy's mother (whom I called grandmother). And, truth be told, my first child has a daughter—and now I get it.

I was not a person who longed to be a grandmother.  

However, I cannot imagine life without the joy of being Amazing, Awesome, Graceful, Terrific, Effervescent, Caring, and Radiant's Grandma.

Being that in their lives is plenty!!! 

They can save their money! 

May you have enough sunshine in your life to make you appreciate the shadows

Successful Cobbling

My children's dad called it Neighborhood Pie.

Actually, the proper name - and a huge family and friends favorite: 

Company Apple Dessert

My mother discovered the recipe when I was in the fifth grade. It became a staple.

I was looking for ideas for decorating my home (especially my kitchen) with apples. September seems too early for the pumpkin patch.

In my search, I came across apple cobbler recipes.  Truth be told, my mother's Company, Apple Dessert, was just an apple cobbler - with a "fancier" name.

As often happens with me, the word cobbler began to ruminate a bit.

I have a mental picture of a man working on a shoe - replacing a heel; that's a cobbler.

I remember walking through the streets of Philadelphia on our honeymoon after I married Rich Suhey. I had a print that we purchased then, but it's long gone. I do remember the small street with stones placed closely together—cobbled.

When I thought of the word "cobble," I thought of stones, shoes, and maybe apples.

Until 

I lost my job as the Special Events Coordinator at Pine Castle in March 2008, and my friend, the Reverend Mark Atkinson, suggested that I cobble together an income.  I was a year short of early  Social Security. 

My parents had moved in with me in 2005 and they contributed to my monthly expenses. Besides that, daddy's health was declining just as the medical experts had predicted, and I was needed more and more to be a help to them.

I got unemployment for the first few months, but that didn't go well with who I am.

Hum.

My aunt Ann had worked as a poll worker in an election, so I asked her for input, and she suggested I look into it.

In 2008, I joined the Duval County Supervisor of Elections team. I trek to the Elections Training Center on Imeson Road every couple of years for training. My daddy would say, "I am driving a fur piece" to reach my destination.  I think it's interesting that when I am traveling on Imeson Road just to my right, behind rows of bushes, I can see the runways to the airport I remember from my childhood.

That particular means of helping me satisfy my financial obligations has been successful, but it was just the beginning. I could include a list of my experiences, but this is not a job interview. Let me say—the good, the bad, and sometimes the ugly—but my bills "got paid."

Of course, the best job ever fell into my lap when I learned that the Mandarin Museum & Historical Society needed a Volunteer Coordinator. This past July, I celebrated my 9th anniversary.

The Museum has changed—for the better!!! But one thing has not changed—the volunteers continue to be faithful, eager to help, and excited about our mission. I have made several very dear friends and picked up a "best friend" along the way. I believe that my time in this capacity has broadened my horizons.

So - today's word is COBBLE.  I still do it.  And it's been a good word for me! 

May you have enough sunshine in your life to make you appreciate the shadows

Love Note

I got a note from my mother. . . 

Not really.

So let me tell you about yesterday.

The week has been hectic. Finally, there would be time for my best friend and me to enjoy a nice quiet dinner.

A casserole was ready to go into the oven when I learned - my friend had been called to attend an impromptu family celebration.

Those kinds of things are very important to me, so I had no trouble "going with the flow"

In fact, my neighbor has recently had hip surgery, and I had been thinking I needed to take some food to them. The casserole and some of the jello salad would be perfect. Within a few minutes, a friend called, "Did I want to go get some ice cream?"  Well, yeah.

The note from my mother???

My devotion this morning featured Romans 8:28.

If there's any Bible verse we heard more than that one, I don't think my siblings or our children would know what it is.

Yesterday's changes were nothing - no issues in the least.

There have been times, however, in my life (and in yours) that we have been thrown a curve ball and struck out.  

I read the devotional, knowing that, remembering all the times my mother has helped me with an issue but reminding me of the scripture.

The devotional I read always has a photo to help a person remember.  Today's said, "Where the Lord guides, He provides".

More than 70 years ago, our mother wanted to go to Bible college.  Cindy and I were little girls  I hadn't started school.  Mother wrote to Tennessee Temple College in Chattanooga and received a letter back with those words.  As it happened, daddy did not have the same desire to go to Bible College.  He told mother he would take care of us but she decided that going to Bible college was not what was best for our family.

She never forgot those words, however.

And so it was that as I read the devotional I felt like my mother had sent me that message.

She would have been grateful that I thought of sharing the casserole and happy that I had a visit with my friend.  She would also like it that I am still writing about her!!!

May you have enough sunshine in your life to make you appreciate the shadows

Have I got a story for you. . .

What did I want to do when I was growing up? That's one of the questions in a project I'm participating in—a gift for my children and grandchildren.

 

I wanted to be a journalist.  I valued a couple of Florida-Times Union columnists, Cynthia Parks and Elizabeth Cornelius. I also loved the writings of Elizabeth Elliott and Catherine Marshall, who were both "preacher's wives," so I believe my vocational wishes and what I considered my "life's call" as a Christian worked together well.

You might say that my love for storytelling has always been a part of me, a passion that I'm eager to share.

 

My creative bent emerged a few weeks after my sister, Cindy, was born.  I don't remember, but my mother told me the back of the living room couch was my canvas.  Words soon replaced crayons, however.  There's a story about me standing on a chair in my grandparents’ kitchen - preaching, and then there's the one about the "story" I made up as a first grader.  I told the teacher my daddy got his hand cut off in a machine at work.  I made that up as an excuse for not coloring inside the lines.  It was because my crayons were all broken, and my daddy said there would be no new crayons until Christmas. (I know, it was a lie).

 

In the early years of my marriage, I wrote a column for our church newsletters. I called it I've been thinking... If there's one thing I consistently do, it is THINK.  That later became a nonpaid column in the early days of Jacksonville.com.

And then I started to write Sunshine and Shadows, this blog that I hope is an encouragement.

 

In 2010, I interviewed and wrote about physicians, medical practices, and hospitals when the Duval County Medical Society published a book about their history.

 

Recently, I helped with the editing of John Beehner's latest book, Live in Freedom, Don't Believe Everything You Think. which, as it happens, contains many stories of people who have experienced a change in their lives because of their faith walk.

 

I've been a contributor and an editor, but still, there's this nagging desire.  

 

So , , , 

 

I'm going to put together a book of stories.  Somehow, that seems less self-promoting than saying that I am going to write a book.  It will be an E-book through Amazon. The title is From Paula's Pen...Have I got a story for you!  Some of my stories will be included, but my main purpose is to share your stories.   

 

I believe this sort of undertaking needs a timeline, so I'll start on August 5^th (the day my parents married in 1942). I first thought that it would be a six-week project, but I am going to refrain from a publication date. I believe that I will know when it’s time to set a completion date.

I welcome your stories, and I will edit as little as possible. Knowing that I am not a good proofreader (especially for my work), my friend Deborah Hansen will be my editor. She has been one of my major encouragers in putting my words into print.

 

When I hit the publish button on this blog, post it on my Facebook page, and send emails to people encouraging them to send me a story, I'm going to be thinking, "Oh, help," as Maria expressed when she was on her way to the Von Trapp family home in The Sound of Music.

 

And like Maria, I have confidence in Sunshine and Rain, in you, who will share your stories, in Deb, who will edit my work, and most of all, in God, in Whom I Trust!

And this will be my number one goal:

Two Goodbyes

I didn't know I was saying goodbye.

On the third day of July 1982, I boarded a Jacksonville-bound airplane from Louisville International Airport. My children were visiting my parents. Their dad suggested that I come to Jacksonville to be with them and my extended family. He would arrange to meet us sometime in the next few weeks.

That didn't happen.

Years later, I told my brother, Lester, that I needed to return to Louisville. I said, "I didn't say goodbye." As it happened, Lester went with my parents to get my things after I knew I was not returning to that life. When I said I needed to go back, Lester was very kind.

"I said goodbye for you".

In the 42 years since then, I have often remembered when I was devastated that my life as a Pastor's wife was over. Note that I didn't say "wife." My identity was tied up in what I believed my "calling" had been.

As it happened two years ago, 40 years later, it was time once more for me to say goodbye/ This time, I knew/ I was not surprised.

I was watching as my 99-year-old mother, who had been the source of hope, strength, and love for me for my 75 years of life, was slipping away.  She actually had now been sleeping on and off for several days.  Our family sat with her and  talked to her.  I read the Bible to her.  I recited the Lord's Prayer and was surprised as she mouthed some words with me.

The Hospice nurse told me that I needed to tell her that it was okay for her to go.  I suggested that my son, Tray, would be a good person to do that.  No, it had to be me. I was the principal caregiver. It was my responsibility.

At some point, I was alone with my mother in her room.  I had a flashback.

I married Rich Suhey the day after my mother had turned 75.  He told her that he hoped I would look like her when I was her age.   

My 75th birthday was a week away.  So remembering that and the fact that Rich died just eight moths after our wedding, I said

"Mother, when you get to Heaven, after you see daddy - would you find Rich and tell him - I do look like you." 

 That was my goodbye.  

I'm okay with the fact that I never said goodbye to Louisville. My life is full. My children are strong, their children are amazing, and although I am not a Pastor's wife, I have many opportunities to reach out and minister to others.

I'm also good with my goodbye to my mother.  

The afternoon and evening of her passing will remain among the dearest of my life. My children and I told the Hospice nurse stories of their lives with their grandparents. The nurse was so well trained that she made us think we were telling her the best stories she had ever heard.  

My daughter, Renee, leaned into her grandma's ear and told her it was time to go - she had lived a wonderful life and was leaving an unbelievable heritage. And with that, my mother took her last breath.

I think that day proved to me that although I didn't say goodbye to Lousivlle = my disappointment and sorrow that I lost the life I thought I was supposed to have -- was precisely as it was supposed to be.

I am truly grateful.

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

.

Why I love where I live

 This week, I am celebrating.

25 years ago, the day after Payne Stewart won the exciting US Open (beating another golfer I liked, Phil Michelson, and telling him how great it is to be a father), Reatlor, Dottie Wilson, called me.

I had been "house=hunting" in Mandarin for several months.  I was still in a grief mode.  Rich Suhey had suddenly died just over six months before.  Soon after his death, maybe even the night he died, my children had said, "Mom, you need to move to Mandarin."  

Some patios and townhomes were being built, and my sister, Cindy, had driven through the area. This would be a perfect place.

Except they were all "taken".

Dottie said, "The woman who was having one of the patio homes built no longer wants it."

My daughter, Becca, and I came to see it.  In time, the rest of my family saw it, and by the end of July 1999,  I had signed the papers!

I recently "floated" the idea that I might sell and move to a retirement community.

I walked through my house and looked at what I enjoy - and treasure - and cannot take with me.

In 2008, my son, Tray, had just started his contracting business and needed to give his employee some work. This is what I got. 

I don't want to leave it - or my backyard, which slopes down toward a small stream. I love to mow it. I have a heritage room and a noisy neighbor, and I live less than five miles from my siblings and two of my children.

Between my birth and my 52nd birthday, I had lived in four states and many different houses. We moved a lot when I was growing up, but I never had to change schools or churches or make new friends. The four states, Tennessee, Georgia, North Carolina, and Kentucky, were all good places to live, and I still have friends there.  

When I was reflecting on that time, now a quarter of a century ago, I realized once more that I love where I live.  And that reminded me of this.  It was the first time I was paid ($50) for something I had written.  It was published in the Florida Times-Union in November 1982.

I feel really good about the fact that what I said 42 years ago about the house that was a homeplace for the Nesmith/ Huffingham families for so many years - is true to what I feel today. In 1982, I felt that my life was in shambles, and I wrote that where I lived was offering a nest - a place of peace and security for me and my children.  When I found this house, I found a place where I hoped to find peace and security.  I believe that happened.

With a group of friends, I read a selection from Simple Abundance by Sara Ban Breathnach each day. The goal is to reflect and respond. The book invites the reader to learn to relax and appreciate the simple things of life.  Each month has a central theme with words of encouragement for each date of that month.  The focus in June is on the home. There are suggestions of things to change, add, or sometimes remove. It's been a thought-provoking experience.

In the book of II Samuel, when the shepherd/king David was settling into a palace, he prayed that God would bless his house.

That has been my prayer as well, and I believe that God has done just that!

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

"Everything's gonna be all right"

 Does one still celebrate Father's Day when the father has passed???

 Well,

 Yes.

 I can celebrate the memory of a daddy who loved me – and cared for me and remember the fun times we shared. I once wrote daddy a poem. It recalled some of my memories

" Remember when you made the fudge and placed it on a platter?                                                         And I insisted that I serve and how that glass did splatter."                                                            

Those words were based on an early childhood memory. Daddy loved to make fudge. He had made a fresh batch for our Sunday afternoon company. I insisted that I be the one to serve it. Of course, I dropped the plate. So well into my adulthood, I wrote a poem that included that experience. I thought it was a good example of the fact that so many times in my life, I bit off more than I could chew, and yet I never once thought he loved me any less as he often found a way to fix what seemed to be a splattered mess. 

 I penned those words in a Father's Day greeting in June 1982. By July 15 of that same year, I was sobbing my heart out on my parents' back porch. My life was shattered. And daddy's response was "everything's gonna be all right".

For the next 27 years, he told me many, many times that everything was going to be all right!

As the end of daddy's life drew near I was bold when I announced I did not want to be home when he passed. I thought I would not know how to handle it. I feared it would be just mother and me. She would be a wreck, and I would not know how to handle that. However, the Hospice nurse had worked with me, and I determined I would be okay. I didn't tell daddy that I had come to that conclusion.

We were not aware of this, however, within hours of daddy's passing, he kept asking me when I was leaving for work. I have since determined that he was trying to protect me. He thought I didn't want to be there when he took his last breath. He thought that because I never told him any different. I was there, however, and have always been glad that I was.  Everything was gonna be all right!

I can also celebrate the father of my children. My life with him did not turn out the way I hoped. However, as I often say, "Have you met my children?" And then I say, "They got so much of who they are because they are Parkers." And I understand that no matter how good a mother I was, I was not their father. 

Tray was playing all-star baseball when his dad was finally at a game. (He lived in Indiana; we lived in Jacksonville). Our team was behind. Tray got a hit that tied up the game. He stole second, and the batter hit a double...Tray crossed the plate, and our team won the game. He came running off the field with these words:

 "Where's my dad?"

 I think Tray is a better father because of the absent father he grew up with. I believe that it is because of the influence of my daddy, my brothers, and some of my male friends. Tray and his brothers-in-law, Dale and Wally, are all excellent dads to my seven grandchildren. I am so very grateful, and I joyfully celebrate the three of them. 

And I celebrate those extra fathers, especially Lester and Robert.

Because church has always been a part of my life, I understand it when discussing God as our Heavenly Father. I can recite the Apostles Creed with no hesitation: "I believe in one God, the Father almighty. . .". I remember granddaddy Nesmith opening the morning worship services with these words "Our Loving Father". I learned early on that God loves me more than my father...and grandfathers. I felt very loved by them - and I feel very loved by God the Father.

 My thought is this. Daddy is not here for me to give him a present or write him a poem.

 I can still celebrate him - and the other fathers in my children's lives (including their fathers-in-law, Jim England, Larry Blain, and Roger Park).  And I do - with an attitude of gratitude, love, and respect.

 And, of course, I give thanks for God our Father - who loves me even more! 

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

"Salt is healing"

When I chose the seascape that our mother did in the mid-80s for my June 3-June 14 Facebook cover page, I started thinking about how much she enjoyed the ocean.  She found that the combination of salt and water offered peace and tranquility.  

She would say, "Salt is healing," which would quickly be followed with: "If I could just get my feet in the ocean." 

I think it was the summer after her 90th birthday that she visited some of our family in Myrtle Beach. They did not let the fact that she needed a walker deter them. I'm sure there were oohs and ahs as she accepted their assistance and waded into the ebbs and flows of the tide.

As it happened, all of her sisters also loved the ocean. 

So when she saw a drawing of four sisters at the beach, she copied it.  Her skill with colored pencils was dwindling.

However, it gave her an idea.  She sent an email to her sister, Beth, who lived at Crescent Beach.

By this time, mother was 95 

How about if the four sisters walked out on the beach together? Their sister Thelma had died many years before, but all of them appreciated the healing power of the salt water.

Aunt Beth made an effort to make that happen. This is the best that she could do. And I suppose four sisters looking at the ocean still worked.

Within a year, mother was no longer ambulatory. It became time for her to leave the assisted living facility and share a room in the Health Care Center at Westminister Woods on Julington Creek.

Fortunately, although there was no beach, there was water, and she loved it when one of us pushed her wheelchair so that she could enjoy the Creek.  

On Father's Day 2021,  my son, Tray, who is grandchild #5, called me with an idea.  

Mother was so curious. "where are we going?"

"Is this okay?"  "Are we breaking a rule?  I think she was happy to be doing just that.  

That fun time was three years ago. The next year - two years ago now - we were saying goodbye. It's been a strange experience knowing that our mother is no longer an active presence in my life, which brings me back to what she said about SALT.

I believe I need a tissue.

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

Is the flag up?

My parents hadn't lived with me very long before there was a flag post in my yard - proudly holding a flag that had flown in Iraq, where my nephew Brad Williams was serving our country as a member of the Army National Guard.  Daddy had instilled a strong sense of patriotism and service in the lives of Brad, his twin brother, Chad, and my son, Tray.  He was so proud of all three!

Daddy had served in the Philippines in World War II.  My sister, Cindy, and I knew very little about his service there.  We knew he was the first "boy" from South Jacksonville to enlist - just a few days after December 7, 1941, and two weeks before he gave mother an engagement ring. He was off to Shreveport, Louisiana, before she graduated from Landon High School and wrote her when he got promoted to sergeant in mid-June.  He told her to plan a wedding.  She was all for that!  They were married just 7 weeks, still honeymooning in Shreveport, when he got on a train headed west and her train was on the way to Jacksonville.  The next time they saw each other was in December 1945.  

We did know about mother's brother, Ellie Rudolph Nesmith who was killed over Germany in 1944.  He had been one of daddy's closest friends, and his picture was on the piano at my grandparents' home for much of my growing-up years.  There was also a room called "The Prayer Room" at  Glendale Community Church that was a memorial to the only son of my grandparents.  And I've often wondered if that loss contributed to the wonderful care they gave to others.

As the years passed and two little brothers came into our family, daddy seemed to talk more about his life as a soldier. He was of the old school, and you didn't talk to your little girls about that.

We were grown with families of our own when he started hearing about some squadron reunions. That became very important to our parents, and they so enjoyed the times they shared with his old friends. Once, it was in Jacksonville, and our whole family participated in welcoming this group.  We loved it!!!

By 2005, when my mother and dad moved in with me, daddy's patriotism had become one of the most important parts of his life. At first, he made sure the flag was up at daybreak and took it down at sunset. And then there came a time when the "chore" became mine.

One thing I heard almost every morning in the summer of 2009 was, "Is the flag up?".

After daddy died, I began to take flowers to Greenlawn Cemetery at least four times a year.  Our family plot has grown.  This year, we added Uncle Bill Weitzel, and when the marker arrives, we will add Uncle Howard Beardslee. Daddy's brother, Ted Huffingham, Jr. is buried close by. They all served - as did Uncle Henry Capp.  And Rich Suhey served - he's buried in our family plot (my name is already on the marker).

I have a flag that stays up all the time now  (not to worry, I have an outdoor light that is always on).

That way, each morning when I start my day, I know that daddy would be pleased.  

Yes, daddy, the flag is up.  And tell mother I've added a birdhouse - you all would have loved watching for birds to come for a treat!

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

I hope they dance!

 It gets me every time.

No matter how many times I hear the strains of "Pomp and Circumstance," my eyes well with tears.

And just like that, I now have five grandchildren who have finished high school. One is a teacher, and four are in college—two seniors, a junior, and a freshman. The remaining two will be juniors in high school in just a few days! They do grow up. As a friend mentioned to me recently, " We no longer have littles."

I so appreciated the remarks of St. Johns County Superintendent of Schools, Tim Forson, who began by defining hope—a feeling of expectation and desire for certain things to happen." Hope is a positive word. It's the antithesis of fear, which, unfortunately, often takes precedence over hope.

When I graduated from high school, I hoped I would not get too homesick when I went away to college. So did my mother: " Don't call too often, just once a day." I hoped I would make good grades and make new friends. I hoped to find a nice preacher boy, marry him, and follow my dream of being a pastor's wife.

The word fear never entered my mind.

Fast-forward almost 60 years. We live in a different world. 

We walked through a metal detector as we entered the UNF gym, and my handbag was measured. However, there were some positive differences. My favorite part of the Bartram Trail Graduation was watching the graduating members of the sign language class sign the National Anthem, the Pledge of Allegiance, and the Bartram Trail Alma Mater.  No one would have ever thought that language requirements could include sign language.

Something else was a bit different. No one prayed. I did have the privilege of going to the Yulee High School Baccalaureate, where prayer, words of Scripture, and a "rose ceremony" were included.  I watched as graduate after graduate took a rose to one particular teacher. He must have ended the night with 20 roses.  As I watched, the word hope came to my mind. I believe he offered those students hope.

I have four special graduates this year—a granddaughter, the grandson of my best friend, and two "church" kids I've watched grow up. My niece also graduated from college.

I hope they dream, that their hearts are given opportunities to love, and, most of all, that they always know that God has a plan for their lives.

And finally, I hope that they will always "give a reason for the Hope that is within them" (I Peter 3:15).

In other words, I hope they know who they are as Christians and as their parents' children. I hope they know they are loved by God and their parents, grandparents, and family members. And I hope they will share that love with others.

And of course, I hope they dance!

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

Do we have a model???

I love it when one thought, word, song, Bible verse, or sermon opens my brain to another thought word and the necessity for me to share those thoughts through words.

The choir anthem at the Mandarin Presbyterian Church on May 19 and  Pastor Andrew's message did that for me. First, it was a song, then the words in the message - and they shared a commonality -- the root word was FAITH.

As the music began, I knew it was a familiar song. I had not looked at the bulletin, so I really didn't know.

" We're pilgrims on the journey of the narrow road, and those who've gone before us line the way." They began.

Suddenly, it was as if I could see my daddy sitting on the front pew of the church, nodding his head in agreement as the choir continued to sing "Find Us Faithful" by Steve Green (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4c3yau5gASM).  

Daddy wanted his legacy to be that he had faith in God and that he was faithful.

The past few days I have had the privilege of spending time with my children and five of my grandchildren. As I listened to them talk to each other - about Christian groups that they are in, their dreams and goals, and life's ups and downs, I thought they had become what their grandparents modeled for them.

Daddy's favorite song was "Living by Faith." (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PwJfwYMuZEQ) He taught us that - by example. One of the things he knew how to do was "take money from Peter to pay Paul", and I heard one of my children describe how that's one way they have found success in educating their children.

Our parents loved another hymn, "Great is thy Faithfulness." I also love that hymn, although it's difficult to choose between it and "It is well with my soul " when I am asked my favorite.

I do know that my favorite verse from Scripture is I Thessalonians 5:24

"The one who calls you is faithful, and he will do it" (NIV).

Every time I have experienced what I consider failure - from failing an Old Testament quiz as a freshman at Bryan College  (I know - a preacher's grandchild "failed a Bible quiz?"), I go back to that verse and am reminded that God is faithful! - trusting Him, I start anew.    I made an A in Old Testament that semester - Ray Parker helped me). 

Pastor Stepp's sermon included Scripture from the Book of Hebrews (chapter 10; verses 23-25).    spoke of the way being in community is helpful - that we should be thinking of others and I clearly heard his words as he read verse 24 (he is faithful, as he promised). 

So that took my thoughts again to daddy - and his love for others - the way he practiced his faith.

I was with one of my granddaughters, who looked especially cute, and I asked her if she remembered what her great-granddaddy would say to her if he saw her.

He would touch her nose and say, "Where did you get that cute little nose?"

Of course, he would have known that she inherited that cute little nose from her mother - So we know where she got that.

And as I look at myself, my children, my grandchildren—and the rest of our family—I ask the question: Where did we get "who we are"? Do we have a model? Did someone teach us to have the faith in God that we possess?

Some have called him Earl the Pearl and her Iva Lou. The people at the Mandarin Presbyterian Church called them the mayor and Mrs. Iva.   Becca, Chad, Brad, Renee, Tray, Leslie, Nathan, Lacie, Ted, Dan, and Meg call them granddaddy and grandma, and their four children call them daddy and mother or mama.

And all who knew them "found them faithful."

No better role models!!! 

   May you have enough sunshine in your life, 

             to make you appreciate the shadows

Granddaddy had a Mansion

Ellie Wallace Nesmith was born on Wednesday, May 12, 1897, in Nesmith, Williamsburg County, SC, to his parents, Solon Thomas Nesmith (1866-1947) and Annie Gertrude (Gamble) Nesmith (1870-1911).

That would be 117 years ago. He had five sisters (Etta, Alva, Gerdette, Gertrude, and Mattie Lou) and one brother, Solon. He finished 8th grade and then was needed to help his father with the farm. His mother died when he was 14 and his father remarried Rosa Smith. She had a relative who was married to Florence Mercer and one day when Florence's sister, Paulin,e was caring for Florence's eldest child, Benji - Ellie first laid eyes on Pauline.

They were married on the first day of January 1921. The marriage resulted in the birth of six children - Rudoph, Iva, Thelma, Carolyn, Ann, and Beth.

When Ellie was 50 years old, I was born to Iva.

We often celebrated granddaddy's birthday on Mother's Day, so in addition to having a great appreciation and love for my mother and both of my grandmothers (Lonnie Jones Huffingham/Walker and Pauline Mercer Nesmith), I also honor my grandfather - the Rev. Ellie Wallace Nesmith.

Granddaddy accepted Christ as a young man and first heard the "call" to preach in his early 20s.   My grandparents helped organize Glendale Community Church in 1936. He was ordained in 1945 and became the pastor of the church. He held that role until he retired in 1963.

One of my earliest memories is copying what I had observed at a Sunday service when I stood on a chair, shook my finger, and said: "Sinner you need to repent".  I don't really remember Granddaddy ever doing that, however. 

In 1992 as we celebrated his 95th birthday, we put together a book about his life. - Granddaddy Had a Mansion and You Can Have One Too.

My son, Tray, often remarked about his great-grandfather's longevity and the strong faith that was a major part of granddaddy’s life.

"I bet great-granddaddy is going to have a huge mansion in Heaven", he said. When asked why,  his remark was that it was taking God a long time to build it. (John 14). 

Granddaddy went to see that mansion 30 years ago. I believe many people in Heaven (and still on earth) who understood the "you can have one too"  and trusted Christ.

I remember him lifting his hands for the opening prayer in our worship services, his preaching, and the many times he called on the sick and grieving. Sometimes my sister, Cindy, and I got to ride with him.

Once he saw me be rude to another child  I'll never forget how I felt when I realized he had seen me!

Granddaddy was kind, but not demonstrative with his affection.  However, when my marriage was ending, although he certainly did not believe in divorce, he was very supportive.  

My dearest time with him was when he invited me to share the bench between our house and his.  

"Sister, your mother has been sharing some of your writing...but I have noticed something -- you are not signing your work."  

"Someday", he continued, "you will have grandchildren who will read some of your stories and be glad to know you wrote them". 

I now have many binders filled with my words that will give my grandchildren insight into their heritage.

A heritage that I am happy to share with them. 

May you have enough sunshine in your life,

 to make you appreciate the shadows

Is it fun???

The doctor confirmed my suspicions.

I was going to have a baby.

"Is it fun?", I asked.

As I remember that day, I can only think - "you are strange, Paula -- strange".

The doctor's response has stayed with me all these years - "it's exciting".

That experience was 53 years ago today.  (I know - strange that I can remember the date). And there were three more times when I heard "you are going to have a baby". Sometimes I heard those words with great joy - that was when Renee would be born. The other times I heard them with less enthusiasm...however.

If you know me - you may be wondering - four times. Yep, the second time resulted in a miscarriage - a sad experience, but one that taught me how to minister to others when that happened.

In late 1976 the doctor once more confirmed my suspicions = yep Beca and Renee were going to have a sibling. This time the baby was a boy. 

And we were a family of five...until the summer of 1982 when we became a family of four. Forty-two years later we are a family of 14. And I can answer my question - "Is it fun?"

Most of the time.

Would I do it again?

Absolutely.

I don't know that I intentionally wanted to be a "fun" mother.  I do know I loved helping them learn and watching them grow. I loved the sports and musical experiences I got to attend. I loved seeing them make their grandparents smile.

And now that they are grown, I love sharing time with them - and listening to them - and watching them parent.

Which brings me back to fun...It is so much fun to be a grandmother!

"Children are a gift from the Lord" Psalm 127:3 a

May you have enough sunshine in your life,

 to make you appreciate the shadows

Swill, Swirl and the Epistles

Everyone I know . . .atleast most everyone. . . Knows this about me: 

 "I love the swill and swirl as words untangle emotions"

Our mother loved them too.  I have many examples of that.

In about 2010,  mother put her thoughts into words regarding how she felt about being the recipient of care.  I’ve been looking for those but alas they remain on the missing list.  I do know she had a difficult time adapting to being the one who was cared for – especially when the person doing the caring was her first-born child.

In my quest for those words, I’ve come upon many other examples of words – hers, mine, and others.  That’s because my May project is to clean out and reorganize my files.

And in doing so I’ve found lots of words…in notes and letters.

I have notes from my high school sweetheart and letters from two uncles (Ted and Bill) that I received when Ray Parker chose to live a life without me and our children.  I have a note that my son wrote defending the upset that his elder sister was experiencing before she went to college and one that she wrote when she had fallen in love. I have lots of thank you notes from both of my parents and I have a letter I wrote to my children, on Mother’s Day, 1995. 

I am so glad that I kept all of those letters.  Although I have no idea what my children will do with them when it’s their turn to go through mom’s files.  The files will hopefully be somewhat organized.

I recently finished an inspirational experience with a large group at the Mandarin Presbyterian Church. We read the Bible from Genesis to Revelation in 100 days.

And my favorite part??? The Epistles – because they are simply put – letters. They have a greeting, words of appreciation – words of encouragement (as well as reprimand and correction) and then they end with words of thankfulness.  Of course, those books are my favorite - I love letters.

For our mother’s birthday one year, I gave her a scrapbook filled with notes from family and friends. 

That was 19 years ago. However, I have hopefully followed her example and when I think of someone who needs encouragement, I like to send a note.

This is not hard for me – because I love thoughts that turn into words and sentences and paragraphs.  And as much as I enjoy writing, I also really like to read which is why I am giving myself the month of May to complete this arduous project.

"Let the words of my mouth and the thoughts of my heart (that end up on the computer screen), be acceptable to you, O Lord, my strength and my redeemer". Psalm 19:14.

May you have enough sunshine in your life,

 to make you appreciate the shadows

"What do you know about art?"

I was sharing plans for the week with my friend.

Monday included judging a high school art show.

I took no offense to the question. I had wondered myself "what did I know about art?" when my high school friend, Ann Hardy McGee asked if I could do that.

While I did inherit a creative spirit from my mother, my gift is words. Mother's was a paintbrush or colored pencils or even crayons in her last days. However, almost every day I open the Harriet Beecher Stowe Gallery at the Mandarin Museum where the work of Memphis Wood (who was my mother’s teacher at Landon in the early 40’s) is on display. My office at the Museum includes the skill of artists including Lee Adams, C. Ford Riley, and Brenda Councill.

And this is above my desk at home.

So, with my friend, Laurie Lemminn, I made my way to University Christian School for "Night of the Arts “where we were escorted through the halls where the creations of lower school students decorated the walls.

We arrived at the school cafeteria where easels with flowers and butterflies theme lined the room. We were amazed at the various techniques that were included. I loved the works that included flowers, roses, and sunflowers especially. Laurie loves butterflies so those stood out to her.

And then we saw this one. -

Ann told us that it was the work of Luke Lehmann. a graduating senior in AP Art who has not determined which of the many colleges who are inviting him to bring his skill and let them help him make it better. will be his choice.

To our surprise, we were given a gift card for our time. I made a trip to Ace Hardware's Garden Shop. I know that it was my mother who knew what to do with flowers. And she would want to paint or draw these once she had planted them.

However, I have decided that working in the yard is something that I might have inherited from my mother. I do know that I love to mow the grass. The flowers might make it, but don't look for any artwork from me.  Remember, my gift is words. "Each of you should use whatever gift you have received to serve others." I Peter 4:10 (NIV)

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