"You're not pretty when you cry"

 55 years ago.

I said goodbye to my siblings and my parents and I climbed into the family car and headed for Dayton, Tennessee.

After an overnight stop at daddy's sister, Gloria's lovely Atlanta home where I enjoyed a quick visit with my grandma Lonnie, we were off to Dayton.

Somewhere between that stop and lunch at the now-famous Daytona Cafeteria, my mother had a few words for me.

"Don't call too often.  Just once a day".  I can still see daddy cringe.

"Be sure you write to your sister and brothers and your grandparents".

"Don't fall for the first boy you meet" to which daddy chimed in "You are going to college to get an education, not a husband."

And in turn, I had a few words for my mother.

"Whatever you do, please do not cry when we are on the campus.  You are not pretty when you cry".

I'm not sure if anyone is ever pretty when they cry.

Well, she did cry.  And I cried.  And no doubt, daddy cried.

And the reason the Daytona Cafeteria is famous?  That's the first place I saw the young man who I would eventually marry.  It took 37 years before I would actually finish my education, but that's another story.

I've been remembering that time a lot as I see Facebook postings of some of my friends who are taking their first child to college.  It's a big deal.  

I've written before about the door size poster that my mother sent me.  It said, "Our Paula - ten days by foot, 10 hours by car, 10 seconds by phone and immediately by Prayer".  I was touched recently when my friend Lisa Handel Gray sent me this photo.  It went to Alabama with her daughter, Ginny.

I cried with each of my children.  And I cried when they came home and went back. After my son, Tray's first visit home, as he left to go back to school in Tennessee through my tears I said "Please don't go". I still get choked up saying goodbye. 

So this message is for all of you who are leaving a child at college  

First of all - it's okay to cry - Tears are good for you.  Even if you are not pretty when you cry.

Everyone is going to survive.  And just when you think you are used to them being gone - guess what - they will be back.

This is dedicated to those many friends I have whose children are off to college - and especially to my favorite cry baby - Angela Gallimore Boyd.  Just remember - Wilson can feel your prayers!  

Besides "tears are a language that God understands".  

 

May your life be filled with enough Sunshine 

to make you appreciate the Shadow

When the daughter becomes the mother

I thought it wouldn't happen until I was in my 70's.

Hello!

I have promised my children that when it is time for them to become my parent I want them to remind me that I have said I will listen.

For me, one of the most difficult parts of having an aging mother is that sometimes I've had to say "mother you really shouldn't do that".  Like the time she thought she could walk to her church and deliver something that she wanted there before Sunday.  Or the time she used her walker, but still moved plants that were hanging outside our kitchen window.  Or when she went through the line at Michaels without knowing how much money was in her checking account.

Just little things.

First - let me begin with a disclaimer.  I have been tested and I do not have COVID19.  At least I didn't on Saturday, August 8 when I made a trip to my nearby Carespot.

However, I was with a friend for dinner in late July. A few days later, my friend learned that she had been exposed just four days before our time together.   My friend quickly quarantined herself and went for the test.

She told me and to be truthful I almost forgot about it.

But when she became ill on her 12th day (since she had been with the other friend), I became a little more concerned.

I was mostly concerned about her.

I had a cavalier attitude as far as my personal health

"Yes", I told my daughter. " I will tell the friends I am supposed to have lunch with on Saturday, but no I'm not going to cancel my scheduled early voting responsibilities.  I'm not doing anything that drastic until my friend's results are back".

"Mom, it's time for me to be the mother".

Renee - you could have not said anything that I would hear louder.

So I made that call.  I prepared to stay home through this Thursday (14 days after my dinner with my friend).  I ordered groceries.  I started some creative projects.  But I was just sure that my friend was going to get negative results.

Until she texted me - Positive.

I took myself to Carespot for the test.  It was a piece of cake.  No worse than having one's finger pricked for a quick blood test.  I heard it could be as long as 18 days.  YIPES

I made the difficult calls to friends I had been with since I had been exposed to someone who tested positive. This was no one's fault.  We wear masks.  We social distance. The restaurant where we were is well covered - the only thing any of us could have done is stay home.  

Maybe I am in my 70's - but staying home is not on my current agenda.

My results came back quickly.  I had tested negatively.  I happily shared my good news.  Even my friend (who is recuperating at home) was delighted.

Now, will I always be able to hear one of my children when they think I'm about to make an unwise decision? That day years from now when I become the child and one of them is the parent?

To borrow from one of Renee's favorite growing-up words -

"Hopefully"

May your life be filled with enough Sunshine 

to make you appreciate the Shadow

She may not remember...but I do!

My siblings, our children and grandchildren can tell you that we have no doubt but it was the love they shared that most influenced us.  It was love for God and each other that made them the Christian soulmates, parents, and grandparents.  They did so many things for us and for everyone.

 Today would have been their 78th wedding anniversary.  I wrote this just one month shy of daddy's going to heaven almost 11 years ago.  Today mother is in a Care Center - and we cannot visit her.  She did ask me if I could get my lawyer to find a way to let me see her.  However, I'm not sure that she knows it's August 5.

I often write to help me deal with what's happening in my life - August 5, 2009 was one of those times - as is August 5, 2020.

He was a native of Jacksonville, a Landon High School graduate, and a soldier.  She was also a Landon High School graduate (in fact had graduated just a few months before), a girl born in South Carolina who had lived in Jacksonville since she was a child.  It was wartime - just a little more than seven months into World War II.  He was stationed in Louisiana; made sergeant and wrote her a letter.

                "I am going to make enough money...we can get married", he said.

There was a flurry of activity and Glendale Community Church canceled the midweek prayer meeting.  She had made her graduation dress with the idea that it might be a good wedding gown.  She had the dress, he thought they would have enough money and they knew they were going to be happy.

That was 67 years ago TODAY - August 5, 1942.

They spend their time now taking care of each other (actually she helps some wonderful nurses from Hospice take care of him) and sharing memories of their lives together. 

I know them well.  I am the first of their four children.

I valued their marriage so much that I chose to marry my college sweetheart on their 25th wedding anniversary.  That marriage did not survive.  The children from that union not only survived,  they thrived, but they don't like me to brag about them.

                I can tell you that one of the reasons those children grew up to be the people they are today is that 27 years ago when my marriage ended, my parents invited us to share their home.  I thought my life was over.  But mother and daddy encouraged me and helped me pick up some very shattered pieces.   Today I am more in the encouragement corner for although who they are is just as strong as ever - their minds sharp, their faith intense - their bodies - well let's just say, I needed them - and now they need me. 

Turnabout is fair play!

On my desk is a calendar that includes words of wisdom.  When I turned the page this morning I found a quote that is perfect for my parents' anniversary - one that even today holds a bit of a mixed bag of emotions for me.

"One word frees us of all the weight and pain of life. That word is LOVE." (Sophocles) 

My parents' love has been the underlying strength in all of our lives for many years.  Especially through the weight and pain!

Happy Anniversary, mother and daddy! (Oh and to that fella I married 42 years ago today - thanks for giving me three wonderful children - you're not such a bad guy after all).

August 5, 2009

May your life be filled with enough Sunshine 

to make you appreciate the Shadow

Just like daddy

Lester surprised me - big time.

We were having a discussion about caring for our mother.  Sometimes that is a very difficult thing for me to do.

"It's because you are just like daddy," Lester said.

No one had ever said that to me.  EVER

Like daddy's side of the family -- short like grandma Lonnie and aunt Gloria.  That's really about the only thing I'd ever heard.

"Well," Lester continued.  "Mother was a submissive wife.  What daddy said - although she sometimes bucked it a little (or a lot), always was the end of the story",

"You have taken daddy's place - you have to be the heavy.  She chose not to argue with daddy.  You are her child.  That's a totally different relationship".

I've thought about that a lot.  It makes sense now.

I've also started thinking about the other ways I am like daddy.

I have his hands.

I can be a wisecrack - easily.  Everyone who ever knew our daddy also knew he always had some little cute response.  Like the time, his pastor, Kevin Pound, teased him from the pulpit saying."Earl, wake Iva up" and daddy's response was "you put her to sleep, you wake her up".

Okay, I could have used a different way to say wisecrack.

However, daddy taught me to be a lady.

And there are ways I hope I am like him.

He lived by faith.  One of his most endearing responses was "Everything's gonna be all right".

He loved his children and their children and their children.  He loved his nieces and nephews.  And everyone loved him.

He sometimes said no and then said yes.

And he left a wonderful legacy for us all.

Yep - it's okay by me

I hope I am "just like daddy"!

May your life be filled with enough Sunshine 

to make you appreciate the Shadow

He stood up

Memorial Day is a pretty special day

My father was very patriotic. He was the first young man from their community to enlist after Pearl Harbor and was in the Pacific for 43 months. He was in the Army Air Corps. That meant he was a little bit army and a little bit air force. He never lost that keen spirit of patriotism and our family and friends have agreed that he really was a part of what Tom Brokaw said was "The Greatest Generation".

Even at the end of his life, daddy always wanted to be sure that mother or I had put the flag out - especially on a day like Memorial Day.

I went to the World War II Memorial in Washington DC in 2005 and when I returned home, daddy was really filled with questions. I remember that he said if he ever got a chance to go, he was going.

So, when he read about the Orange Park Rotary-sponsored trip for World War II veterans, he wasted no time at all checking it out. His trip would be paid for. He just needed to have a "chaperone".

My son, Tray, who is daddy's #3 grandson, was all over that. He would love to go. He has inherited a lot of that same patriotic spirit that was a big part of daddy's life. Chad and Brad (grandsons #1 and 2 respectively) also share that spirit and all three of them have spent time serving our country.

Daddy was so excited as they planned their trip. He supposed he might be the oldest person traveling (he wasn't) and was peeved as he waited for Tray to arrive for the ride to the Orange Park High School. My mother and I rode over for the pre-trip meeting and were there as they boarded the busses headed to JIA.

When they arrived in DC, they were surprised when Chad and Brad arrived. Daddy was thrilled. All of his "soldier boys" were with him to honor him and his comrades. It truly was a day that none of them would forget.

Tray called me several times during the day to give me a report. He would start to tell me something and get choked up. He would say, "I'll have to tell you that in a minute, mom." It would be when they got home that night, daddy a whipped puppy, but with a beaming smile, before Tray could tell me what he had been trying to say all day.

"Here granddaddy was in a wheelchair," he said. "And every time a band would strike up that song - you know the one that features all the branches of the service...when they got to granddaddy's part, he stood up."

I didn't see this happen and yet I know exactly how it must have been. I can just see him. I know about the effort involved and the importance of this experience.

So, on this Memorial Day, our first without our patriotic patriarch, I am remembering that experience shared between my daddy and my son - and I am thankful all the more for our heritage. The music is playing over and over (I googled it) and if you listen, maybe you can hear it too! (The US Armed Forces Salute)

Precious Hands

My hands are a mess.

Wait let me be more specific.  My nails are a mess.

I'm one of many women who have become accustomed to manicured nails  It's now been more than two months since I have seen Lisa, my nail tech.  The word I've heard is that she won't be back at work until the first of June.

Of course, that's not the end of the world.  Nothing has prevented me from using my hands to wash dishes, fix a meal, do the laundry, and most of all type.  I would really miss my fingers.

I've been thinking a lot about hands lately.

I wasn't there, but I have heard that on this day 49 years ago, my sister, Cindy, sat by my grandma Nesmith's bedside, held her hands and told her what a blessing she had been to so many for so long - caring for the sick, arranging flowers and making yeast rolls - all with her hands.

I was there when this photo was taken of my daughter Renee holding my mother's hands.  An interesting note is that Renee's hands are very much like her other grandmother's hands. However, Renee is like my mother in that she is very caring.


We have learned that when we have something we need to tell our mother, someone holds her hands.  We held her hands when we told her that her dear friend, Merle had passed and when our sweet aunt Gloria had gone to  Heaven.

No bad news in this photo, just love.

May 20, 1971, will be a day that always gives me pause.  And this year I've thought so much about my grandma Nesmith's hands.  Many lives were touched because of her hands.  And the number of lives has grown exponentially.

These are the hands that first knew the love and care of her touch.

They are the hands of my mother and her sisters.  I believe they are in order counterclockwise, beginning top right: Iva, Thelma, Carolyn, Ann, and Beth.  The photo was taken just a few days before Thelma passed away.  The caption says "Life is a balance between holding on and letting go".

I'm sure that as my mother and her sisters and their sweet daddy stood around grandma Nesmith's bed early on that May morning, they knew that it was time to let go.  And yet I have no doubt but they have all continued to appreciate her hands - and what they meant to so many!

And as far as the exponential thought.  If you multiply the hands of five sisters times their 18 children and keep multiplying - well I believe you'll get it.

This makes me just one of many who really appreciate the fact that these five sisters grew up to have the same sense of using their hands to help others.

They are, like their mother, a great example of Precious Hands.

                                                                                               May your life be filled with enough Sunshine 

to make you appreciate the Shadow

Glad to be your child

She probably doesn't remember this.  But something that I did just this week reminded me of the day.

First-born Rebecca was six years old.  We lived in Chattanooga and she had a friend whose name was Ed.

It was a cold, but sunny January afternoon.  Becca and Ed were playing in our backyard.  She knew the boundaries, but when I went to check on her - you guessed it - they had ventured a little farther to the iced-over puddles at the bottom of the hill.

I watched as they ran and slid on the little patches of ice. 

To say that I was not amused is just scratching the surface of my emotion.  I could make an excuse and say the reason I got so upset was that I had a newborn and a three-year-old as well as the independent Becca.

Later that night she sat by my side at a church service.   On a broad ruled tablet and with some crayons, she wrote something:

"Dear Mommy, I love you and I am glad to be your child".

Still makes me smile.

Fast forward more than 40 years.

I participated in a webinar that focused on how we as caregivers are handling not being able to see our loved ones.  I've said many times that this is one of my most difficult experiences.  Twice a week Facetime visits of about 15 minutes with my mother have replaced the three or four visits of a couple of hours.  When I am with her, I write on a whiteboard.  When we are trying to have a conversation she has to repeat again and again - "What's she saying?".

It's emotionally draining to say the least.

However, the facilitator of the webinar suggested that we do things to make us feel "closer" to our loved ones.  I've already been using the moisturizer that she had used for years.  I have a cup of tea in a china cup. A day or so ago I even had a Wendy's Frosty.

And I write her letters.  Just letters about life on the "outside".  I'm "isolated" but not as much as my mother is.

And here's what reminded me of Becca's note:

I love you, mother and I am glad to be your daughter.

That's the way I closed the letter.

This is Iva Louise Nesmith Huffingham's 73rd Mother's Day.  It surely will not be as special as some of those we have celebrated together.  This is my 49th Mother's Day.  It surely will be a bit different.

Life is just not the same/

But one thing remains - I love my mother and I am glad to be her daughter - and I'm pretty sure that my three bundles of joy would say the same.

May your life be filled with enough Sunshine 

to make you appreciate the Shadow