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

Does this mean we are OLD???

We became friends over storytelling.  When we met he told me he had been encouraged to write a book.  He said he didn’t know anything about writing a book so I told him I might know a little widow woman who could help him with that.

He has lots of stories.  He should write a book.  He tells stories very well.  I haven’t given up yet on helping him write his stories – some that I am now a part of – like this one – in his words.

We both had wanted to do this for some time.  And many people have asked us:  WHATEVER FOR???

We rode the bus from Mandarin to Downtown Jacksonville and back

Paula planned the day.  She knew how much the trip was going to cost; she knew the bus numbers and the times we would board, arrive downtown, and then return to Mandarin. She even included ice cream when we got back.

The bus was empty when we paid our fare and found a seat.  We hadn’t been on the bus long when a man who had been partying boarded.  He headed to the  back of the bus – and remained standing.

That wasn’t going to work for our driver, so she stopped the bus and told him he needed to sit down.  He ignored her.

It seemed to be getting a little tense.

“Do you have a gun in your pocket?”  Paula asked me.

“Am I wearing pants?” was my response.

The man sat down and our trip continued.  We were enjoying the ride and we believed that we were on our way to City Hall.

We arrived at the bus terminal between the Prime Osborn Center and the Greyhound Bus Station.  Somehow, we missed the fact that what we remembered about busses ending up in what we had known as Hemming Plaza was no longer true.

Our plan had been to see some of the buildings that are a part of the downtown Jacksonville of our youth.  But we took that in stride as we looked for bus #25 which Paula was sure was the one we needed.

As I paid the fare, I asked the #25 driver if he was going out San Jose Blvd. to Mandarin.  He must not have understood my question.

Our ride through San Marco was interesting and we took turns telling each other about this or that building and what we had done there. 

And then we got to University Blvd and turned LEFT.

UH OH

Paula kept saying “he’ll turn right at the next intersection”, but that never happened.

We made many turns.  It felt like we were just going in circles.  And then the driver pulled into the University/Phillips Hub.

"This is the end of the route", the driver said.

We should have boarded bus #17.  I was quiet.  Paula was quieter.

The bus driver was kind.  He could get us to a stop where we could catch bus #17.  And he wouldn’t charge us.

He seemed concerned about us crossing a busy highway.  The silver streaks in Paula’s hair must have told him we are not young!! 

At the appointed stop, he directed us to a bus stop for #17.

It was very hot.  I held Paula's hand as we carefully crossed the busy street and walked a long way to the bus stop. 

30 minutes and three dollars later, we were on our third bus, this time with a very pleasant driver.

We arrived at the Marbon bus stop and headed for Daily’s where we planned to enjoy some ice cream.

Paula’s neighbor came from behind the counter. He had a tray of chicken sandwiches.  Would Paula like one? They were free.

“I’m with her,” I said.

So we both enjoyed a chicken sandwich, then the ice cream.

Paula planned for the afternoon’s budget to be $7.50 because she knew ice cream was a part of the adventure.  We ended up with it costing just over $11.

But we had done what we wanted to do.  And a few days down the road we agree.  We had fun!

We didn't see what we wanted to, however - so we need another trip into town.  Maybe we'll Uber.

Paula’s saving her money.

 May your life have enough sunshine   

To make you appreciate the shadows

This is our legacy

 August 5, 1942

And so it all began.

Our parents had a beautiful love story

He was 8 and she was 6 when his parents invited her family to Sunday dinner after church at the Spring Glen Methodist Church.  If you knew both of my grandmothers you might think it strange that the Huffinghams were the hosts.  I never knew Grandma Lonnie to have guests for a meal.  It was Grandma Nesmith's favorite thing to do.

Later my mother had a crush on Ted Huffingham.  He was in an accident and she and her friend Georgina Sparks went to see Ted and his brother Earl who had also been injured

It wasn't long after that they were on the back of a truck going across Little Pottsburg Creek on her 16th birthday.  Someone quipped "sweet 16 and never be kissed"  and she responded, "not by the right one".

Daddy then leaned across the truck with a peck!

That night  (or so we've been told) he took her to that same spot and kissed her properly.

Three years later, after she graduated from Landon and he had made Sargeant (he volunteered right after Pearl Harbor), they were married at the Glendale Community Church.

That was 80 years ago - August 5, 1942.

For 12 years she's remembered that day - without her honey.  They had loved to celebrate it - trips, parties, family dinners.  Even in 2009 when it would soon be time for daddy to go to Heaven we had a little celebration - 

Their marriage was one to be celebrated and we (their children and ours)  wanted to have that same kind of relationship.  Some of us got it and some didn't.   But we would all say they were our role models.

I don't know what happens in Heaven.  I do know I have a vivid imagination

So I like to imagine that they have had coffee.  I would think that she has told daddy story after story - about her life after he went ahead of her to Heaven.  The trips she took and the life she lived in Texas.  The Bible study she started at Brookdale.  Those nice men - Ken and George who were kind to her.  Graduations, great-grandbabies, and the wonderful staff who cared for her at Westminster/

So on this day, I'm a bit sad -- but I am also very grateful - for the heritage and as my daughter said to her as "she prayed her grandma into Heaven" the legacy she and daddy left for us.  

I think I'll find a friend to have a cup of coffee with  That's the best way I can find to honor the friendship and love my parents shared.

May your life have enough sunshine   

To make you appreciate the shadows