Or should I just keep quiet?

My friend, Emily Anne just got a great promotion.  Her husband is the stay at home dad of their two little girls.

"We are going to join the Y; he can work out and the girls can go to the play area with other children," she said.

"That's wonderful", I replied.  "That gives him some time alone and it will be so good for the girls to be able to interact with other children".

And then I thought - oh my -- I'm really getting into their business aren't I?

So I apologized.

And Emily Anne responded.

"Oh, no, I like it when you tell me what you think.  In fact, I think it's a sin to know something and not share it". 

Wow.  I don't think anyone ever told me that.

I was reminded of a verse in the book of James (4:17 to be exact).  If I know something I should say something - right?

Well - in that case, it seemed to work out well.  But not every thought I have about how someone else should be should be shared.  I do not have to confront every situation I am faced with and I really need to be "prayed" up as the old saying goes before I say anything - because one simple statement can easily become a confrontation.  And I really don't want that.

In fact, that's why I sometimes shy away from confronting.  And it's not always because I don't want to hurt someone's feelings.  Many times, it's because I don't want my feelings to be hurt.  If I experience something that is unpleasant with family or friends, my tendency is to keep my mouth shut because I fear rejection.

Obviously, I felt very safe in my relationship with my friend. And I had no motive.  I wasn't looking for acceptance, appreciation or affirmation.

I was merely sharing an opinion, one that was met with acceptance and appreciation and I felt affirmed in our friendship.

So it continues to have me in a quandary - do I share my opinions - or should I just keep quiet?

I'll always remember...

I'll always remember Papa
 (Theodore James Huffingham 4/20/1898 - 2/12/1967) -
especially when I get a headache from eating ice cream.  That's because when I was about four years old,  he taught me that if I get a drink of water when that happens, the pain will go away.  I'll also remember riding with him and his wife (Aunt Grace) to check lights.  He worked for General Outdoor and we had to make sure that the lights that illuminated the billboards throughout Jacksonville were "on".  I remember that he called me Paula Raye and I still have the letter he sent me when I got my engagement ring.  He wanted to know where I was registered.  He died in February before I was married and Aunt Grace made my wedding cake (pound cake with coconut which had been a favorite of his).


And I will always remember - Granddaddy
 (Ellie Wallace Nesmith 5/12/1897-3/23/1994)
especially when I write something.  It was granddaddy who sat me down on a bench in about 1985 and said "sister - when you write something, you need to sign it.  Someday you will have grandchildren who need to read your words and find out what a good writer their grandmother was".  He also told me not to live with someone until I couldn't live without them (he meant get married to someone etc) and he taught us all to love and serve God - he taught us that by example.

And OF COURSE  I will always remember - daddy - 

(Earl Ray Huffingham - 12/18/1921 - 9/16/2009)

 

especially when I realize I am driving too fast (he always told me I didn't have to make Red Gap by sundown when he thought I was putting too much pedal to the medal); when I watch the Gators play (football, basketball, baseball) or a golf tournament (I hope Phil wins the US Open today - daddy would like that) and when the wind chimes on my back porch are saying good morning (daddy repaired them but that's another story).

 

I especially think of my dad when I see my children and know how much he had to do with the persons they all are today.

 

The night before his memorial when his pastor, Rev. Kevin Pound, asked me what I liked best about him, I said "that I am his child".  The way I look at it - much of who daddy and mother were (and are) have made me the woman I think I am today and most of the time - that's pretty good. 

 

I'm grateful for my dad, for his dad (Papa) and my mother's dad (Granddaddy).  I am also grateful for the father of my children.  Our children inherited some of their best characteristics from Ray Parker.

 

I often tell them (Becca, Renee and Tray) that one of the best things I gave them - is the family that they were born to.  We are truly blessed.

 

 

A dad for Tray

Tray is my third child and only son.  He has always been my buddy - even when we are disagreeing about something.  He is now 35 years old and he can still melt my heart.

He was in the 6th grade - and I thought he needed a dad.

Of course, he had a father.  But his father from whom I was divorced and had been since he was six, lived many miles away from us.

And he had a grandfather - actually, he had two grandfathers and a great-grandfather.

And he had three uncles - and I had a couple of close male friends who came round every now and then.

But I thought he needed a dad - someone who would help him grow up, someone who would discipline him with a stern hand.. And how was he ever going to learn to be a father if he didn't have a role model - up close and personal.

At least, that's what I thought.  I don't know what he thought - or if he "thought".

At any rate, I began to pray earnestly that some nice, handsome, caring, athletic man would come into our lives.

It was all about my son.

And then I met Kathy McCalpin.  She was the divorced mom of a darling little girl named Amanda - but really missed not having a little boy - and we became friends.  And Kathy "fell in love" with my 6th grader.  She thought he was the cutest thing, laughed at his jokes, listened to him, watched him play baseball. and really treated him with much special love and care.

My role changed.  I learned that I could be a bit more strict (not a lot, I know).  I could discipline.  I could have a firm hand.

And I realized it was really all about me.

I had not been looking for a dad for Tray, but looking for a man for myself.

Tray would be a freshman in college before a man came into my life.

Today - he is the father of two little girls.  He appears to be a wonderful dad - something that I credit to the genes he inherited from his dad and his papaw, Raymond Parker, Sr., my dad, my brothers, my male friends, and the mother of his children.

Oh yes - and Kathy McCalpin who became the fluff in Tray's life - so I could be the "bad guy"

It's funny how God answers our prayers!

The gardenia has a blossom

I've been watching and watching all week, in hopes that one of the gardenias at my front door would be would be filled with blossoms.  But alas.  No blossoms.

Until this morning - one blossom - small, as it were, but a blossom.

And why was it so important to me that there be blossoms?

Because on May 31, 2000 as I left Jacksonville to go to Tampa for the birth of my first grandchild, a gardenia bush that was along my walkway was filled with blossoms and I have always associated them with the night that Abigail Jane was born.

That was 13 years ago. 

My greatest excitement that night was not that I was about to become a grandmother.  It was all about the fact that my daughter, Renee, who has loved babies ALL her life was about to have one of her own.

Fortunately for me (though probably not for Renee), that baby was slow to come (kind of like those gardenias that I've been watching). My Jacksonville children and I made it to Tampa in time for the delivery.

I'll never forget her words "Look what I've done, mom."

I was so happy that Renee was a mother.  It was slow to dawn on me that I was now a grandmother.

In fact, it took much longer.  Longer even than the time that I've been watching for those gardenias to bloom.

However, once Abbie spent a morning with me about eight months later, it all made sense.  The two of us became pals.  Since that time, we have stayed pals.  We have shared the adventure of getting lost (when her little sister, Allie, was born three years later); we have shared secrets (when I used to sleep in her room and she suggested I should move to Tampa - including the idea that she it all figured out as to where I could work and live) and we share a great love for her mother.

Of course, Abbie is special because she is my first grandchild, but I always tell her she just opened the door to what for me has been the opportunity of a life time.   By now, I am one of the silly old grandmothers with a purse fill of photographs and ALWAYS a new story about one of my seven.

In our birthday visit (via cell phone) earlier today, she told me that she got make up, her first pair of heels and will soon have her ears pierced and that although she thinks boys are "ugly", she did enjoy her first boy / girl party not too long ago.

Oh help.

Okay Abbie.  Here's where the gardenia's going to come in.  When I was a teenager, I heard a missionary talk about how our lives are like a gardenia.  Did you know that one touch of a gardenia and your finger leaves a spot on the pretty flower?  I never really liked that story to be honest but I think it's a good reminder that we should always be aware that we want our lives to count for God and that we should be careful not to do anything that is going to mar our beauty.

Abbie also told me that when she signs her name - she puts a reference to three verses of Scripture that she feels are important.  I think if she always has these verses as a part of her life, she will stay just as beautiful as she is becoming.

"Rejoice always, pray all the time; be thankful for everything that comes into your life"  I Thessalonians 5:16-18 paraphrased by her grandma.

Welcome to the world of being a teenager, my little Abbra Caddabra - and blessings on you (and your mom and dad!)

   

What's my name?

My brother, Lester, reminded me of an old family game recently after he had been in the home of some of my grandchildren.  He said my granddaughter, who knows he is connected to our family, but doesn't know him well, asked him his name...

"Puddin and tane; ask me again and I'll tell you the same".

Lester told me this was met with a quizzical look so he did it again and she still was unsure.  In a few minutes her little brother arrived on the scene and it made perfect sense to him!

A few weeks later that same little boy was choosing the person who would ask the blessing at a family dinner and he suggested that Uncle Lester pray.  One minor detail - Uncle Lester wasn't there, but Mr. Coulter was and he asked the blessing.

Why is a name important?  Well, certainly better to call someone by name rather than just say "Hey you".  And when we were growing up, we were not allowed to refer to anyone (especially our mother) with a pronoun.  Had to use the name.

But what about the surname.

In 1967 when I married Ray Parker, I would have never dreamed of not taking his name. 

Fifteen years into that marriage we divorced.  We had three children whose name is Parker, so I certainly didn't go back to Huffingham, but I have always wished that I had at least kept Huffingham in the legal name.  I married Rich Suhey and although I loved one of my nicknames - P2 (as in P squared), I was happy to go through the steps of changing my name again.

For 15 years my name has been Paula Huffingham Suhey - something I don't see myself giving up.  Except I suddenly realized that it's not the Suhey that I can't give up.  It's the Huffingham.  So I've devised a plan.  I'm going to have a professional name - Paula Huffingham.  I'm going to have a professional banner under which I write - Paula's Pen.

I'm not sure what all this might this entail. I do know I have a new gmail account - Paulaspen2013@gmail.com that I will use for business correspondence henceforth.  That's kind of cool.

And, happily I don't have to give up - Paula, mom, grand or grandma, Aunt P or sweetheart!  After all - a rose by any other name - smells just as sweet!

You look like me

 

Granddaughter #2, Allie, was helping me learn to make better use of my cell phone - including taking photos.  We took this photo  and she suddenly said -

"Grand - you look like me!"

This was funny to us because most of the time we think she looks like her daddy, Wally. 

However, Allie is right.  We do look alike - our smiles, the way our eyes crinkle and much as I hate this part - our noses.

I remembered once watching her older sister, Abbie, walk down the hall and thinking "Abbie walks like my Grandma Lonnie" and as I thought about that, I thought I bet Abbie walks like me...of course I have never seen myself walk.

Oh, this thing called DNA.

As I have been thinking about that fun experience with Allie, I thought well - if I look like her then that's a pretty good deal.  I would also hope that I could act like her.  She is a very energetic, caring, little girl who is smart as a whip (as are all of my grandchildren, of course).

And if I look like her then she must look like me.  But do I want her to act like me?

That makes me want to act all the better, don't you think?

This past Sunday, in addition to celebrating Mother's Day, our family had another special day that we remembered.  My maternal grandfather, Ellie Wallace Nesmith, was born on May 12, 1897.  He would have been 116 years old.

I remember many special things about granddaddy - none the least of which is something he often said to me "Pretty is as pretty does" - or as the prophet Samuel said to Jesse, father of David, when he was in search of the next king of Israel - "Man looks on the outward appearance, but God looks on the heart".

All of my grandchildren look OR act a little like me - because all of them look OR act a little like their parents.  It is my hope that all of them - come to understand that what's important is how we look on the inside.

Who looks like you?

PS This Friday, Allie is doing something that I did as a fourth grader. Do you think I look like her?

Paula and Miss Hall - Fourth Grade trip to St. Augustine - Have fun, Allie!

Fearfully and wonderfully made

It is not a secret.  I like words.  Actually that's a bit of an understatement.  I love words.  Whether they are on a page, a computer screen or if I hear them -- I just enjoy words.

 

A James Michner quote hangs behind my desk - "I love the swirl and the swing of words as that tangle with human emotions".

 

Tangle with human emotions - hum.

 

I was raised in a Bible church.  That means that we believed the Bible, practiced what it said and actually memorized some of the words, verses and even chapters.

One verse I'll always remember is Psalm 119:11.  "Thy word have I hid in my heart, that I might not sin against thee."  Or as it reads in The Message:  "I’ve banked your promises in the vault of my heart so I won’t sin myself bankrupt".

Is memorization the best way to learn?  If one knows that words - but not how to apply them to life - is that helpful? 

When the Von Trapp children were learning to sing and knew all about the scale and the do, re, mi's, one of them told Maria that "doesn't mean anything". 

So - just because I know the words - I also have to know how to put them into practice.  Many times in my life those words that I memorized as a child have been brought to mind when I needed encouragement or yes, even sometimes, discipline.

 

I gave my children the same opportunity that I had had as a child.  They went to church and Sunday School, youth camps and mission trips and they were taught the value of learning Scripture.

When I visited in my daughter, Renee's home recently, I saw once again the many places where a Bible verse has been placed for family members to read, appreciate and apply in their own lives.

 

Some familiar words had been written on the shower door in my granddaughters' bathroom. "I am fearfully and wonderfully made. . .(Psalm 139:14).

 

I thought what a great place for those words . . .especially for we females who constantly battle with self-esteem.  I don't like that but I believe it to be true and when we are totally vulnerable as when we are going to take a shower...how much more! 

 

Self esteem issues, being vulnerable - human emotions.

 

With words from Scripture to help us deal with them.

 

Continuing to reflect on what I read and my reactions I checked out what The Message says -

"You know me inside and out,  you know every bone in my body; You know exactly how I was made, bit by bit,  how I was sculpted from nothing into something."

And I though how good it is to know that even though I may not always like what I see - I really am "something"!  It's like that old cliché "God don't make no junk"!

,