Angels among us

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I believe there are angels among us. . .

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

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

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

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

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

To Love!!!

 May your life have enough sunshine, 

                                                      To make you appreciate the shadows

A bird dog named Joy

 The third candle of Advent is JOY

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

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

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

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

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

I mean really how could she not?

    

This week our Advent emphasis has been on joy. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

 May your life have enough sunshine, 

                                                      To make you appreciate the shadows

All is well. . .

The second candle of Advent is peace.

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

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

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

And not only did I wonder -- I pondered.

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

Which is why do I say, “all is well".

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

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

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

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

And feel a sense of peace???

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

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

However . . . 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"All is well"

                                                May your life have enough sunshine, 

                                                To make you appreciate the shadows

This house believes

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

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

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

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

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

l.org › creeds › nicene.creed.html

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

However.  . .

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

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

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

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

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

"As for me, I will always have hope"

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

And so I am glad that

                                                                        and has a reason for hope.

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

                                               May your life have enough sunshine, 

                                                To make you appreciate the shadows

Thank you for the spinach

Spinach???

In a salad - okay

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

Not a chance

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

Back to the Spinach

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

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

But that’s all in the past

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He doesn't like canned spinach either!

                                                 May your life have enough sunshine, 

                                                To make you appreciate the shadows

I love the Mandarin Cemetery

Now really.  Who loves a cemetery?

Well. . . 

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

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

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

That life has included many opportunities - ministry opportunities.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

People don’t usually stop to chat. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Ministry

And that is why I love the Mandarin Cemetery

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

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

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

                                                May your life have enough sunshine, 

                                                To make you appreciate the shadows

Peace in the Midst of the Storm

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

I have memories of many such occurrences.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But these are my memories. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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