Sunday Morning Like Mama

My mom and I hung out Easter morning. 

I think of her every single day. More than once.

I miss her still and though that loss will never fade

it ebbs and flows like the tides. Sometimes crashing like waves

against a sea wall and other times distant and gray on the horizon of 

my day.

Always there though.

Always there. 

Often these last few hard years I have wondered what her advice

to me would sound like. Usually I decide it would sound like 

Keep on going, Honey. 

You don't really have a choice. 

Just do what you need to do. 

You're doing just fine.

And so I keep going. Doing what needs to be done. 

When I grow weary of the going and the doing I feel my soul

looking for her. Reaching and stretching towards her like the arms of my sweet grand-babies reaching towards their own mamas.

My heart is just hoping for a glimpse is all.
Just yearning for a brief moment 

as the child again. 

Easter morning I caught that glimpse when I woke early to get
Sunday lunch started before church. 

Already dressed in my Sunday best 

and wrapped up in one of her aprons I put the 

butter beans on to cook and I almost heard her whisper.

In an instant I flew through years to those Sunday mornings 

when I woke to the sounds of her in the kitchen starting Sunday lunch

even before the rest of us were ready for breakfast.

Just for a moment

I saw her with that same apron over her Sunday dress.

Just for a breath

as my heart stretched towards hers 

I felt her right there beside me.

And my mama held me again. 

It made the day with my own precious angels all the sweeter.

Who Needs Valentine's Day?

His love is a platinum thread running in and out the fabric of my days. 
Hidden within the folds of my crazy, busy days, that thread shimmers with reminders of what love really is. 

It is strong enough to weather unexpected yanks of grief and the relentless pull and stretch that is required to heal from great loss. 

It is loose enough to allow me the freedom to be the authentic me. I don't have to pretend to be anything or any way other than who God made me to be. The freedom to be the person you really are at your core is a precious gift. 

He takes delight in the smallest accomplishment of my day. 
Accustomed to encouraging others all day, 
it is especially edifying to be the recipient of cheers and smiles 
for even the smallest of things. 

He is appreciative of every little thing I do. 
Every little thing.

He knows what I look like when a headache is stalking me and actually notices when I look that way. 
He pays attention.

He never, ever fails to offer caffeinated beverages, 
ice packs and compassion even though those migraine monsters 
attack for days at a time. 

I have never once caught him rolling his eyes 
or heard so much as a hint of irritation in his voice
when he comes home to find me in bed 
with an ice pack covering my eyes. 

His smile is famous and his boisterous love of life is endearing. 
It seems as if he knows everyone in the neighborhood and we can't go anywhere without seeing someone he knows. 

He makes me laugh every single day and 
I still look forward to hearing him walk through the door after work. 


He makes my tea when the pitcher is empty, 
hangs my clothes up fresh from the dryer, 
buys me Diet Dr. Pepper and 
knows that I cannot look him 
in the eyes when I am angry with him.


He works like a dog and plays like a kid. 
He has made me a happier, more relaxed person. 
The grand babies are going to love hanging out with him.

He loves our children.
All five of them plus the one God gave us when our oldest married him.
He takes pride in the character and achievements of all of our kids 
and sees the good inside each one. 

He is calm and patient with screaming grand babies 
and teenage girls. 

He is good to my extended family and doesn't think they are as weird as I do.
Just kidding about the weird.

But then again, he doesn't think I am as weird as they do. 
Not kidding about the weird.

He tells me that all families have crazy times, crazy relatives and crazy habits. But he admits that I win the contest for the craziest redneck relative. 

He lets me blame him for pretty much anything from acts of nature to unpleasant dog odors just because he lets me blame him.

He lets me sleep on his shoulder for the two or three minutes it takes 
until I need my space or
I need to straighten the sheets 
or rearrange pillows or
I need to breath my own air.  

Everyone knows that he is a sucker for 
little ones, 
animals 
and his family.

I tell him that he is kind hearted 
and sweet and he tells me not to tell anyone.

He knows my secrets and has remained.  
At times amused and probably disturbed 
by the inner workings of a mind like mine 
he has remained.

Surely often befuddled by my...
lets just call them moods. 
No, let's call them justified moods. 
Whatever we call them...
he has remained.

He is compassionate, gentle and forgiving. 

He has loved me through the moodiness, anger and devastation of grief. 

He was already there when I turned to run to him blinded by my tears and deafened by my sadness.

He was already there because he was paying attention.


He is my best friend, an answer to my prayers and I 
thank God for him every single day.

Who needs Valentines Day when you are loved like this everyday

Just sayin'.......

Tina Fey Says It Best!

 Please enjoy one of my favorite prayers for mothers.

“First, Lord: No tattoos.

May neither Chinese symbol for truth nor

Winnie-the-Pooh holding the FSU logo stain her tender haunches.

May she be Beautiful but not

Damaged, for it’s the

Damage that draws the creepy soccer coach’s eye, not the

Beauty.

When the Crystal Meth is offered,

May she remember the parents who cut her grapes in half

And stick with Beer.

Guide her, protect her

When crossing the street, stepping onto boats, swimming in the ocean, swimming in pools, walking near pools, standing on the subway platform, crossing 86th Street, stepping off of boats, using mall restrooms, getting on and off escalators, driving on country roads while arguing, leaning on large windows, walking in parking lots, riding Ferris wheels, roller-coasters, log flumes, or anything called “Hell Drop,” “Tower of Torture,” or “The Death Spiral Rock ‘N Zero G Roll featuring Aerosmith,” and standing on any kind of balcony ever, anywhere, at any age.

Lead her away from

Acting but not all the way to

Finance.

 

Something where she can make her own hours but still feel intellectually fulfilled and get outside sometimes

And not have to wear high heels.

What would that be, Lord?

Architecture?

Midwifery?

Golf course design?

I’m asking You, because if I knew,

I’d be doing it, Youdammit.

May she play the

Drums to the fiery rhythm of her

Own Heart with the sinewy strength of her

Own Arms, so she need

Not Lie With Drummers.

Grant her a

Rough Patch from twelve to seventeen.

Let her draw horses and be interested in

Barbies for much too long,

For childhood is short –

a Tiger Flower blooming Magenta for one day –

And adulthood is long

and dry-humping in cars will wait.

O Lord, break the Internet forever,

That she may be spared the misspelled invective of her peers

And the online marketing campaign for

Rape Hostel V: Girls Just Wanna Get Stabbed.

And when she one day turns on me and calls me a

Bitch in front of Hollister,

Give me the strength, Lord,

to yank her directly into a cab in front of her friends,

For I will not have that Shit.

I will not have it.

And should she choose to be a Mother one day,

be my eyes, Lord, that I may see her,

lying on a blanket on the floor at 4:50 A.M.,

all-at-once exhausted, bored, and in love

with the little creature whose poop is leaking up its back.

“My mother did this for me once,”

she will realize as she cleans feces off her baby’s neck.

 “My mother did this for me.”

And the delayed gratitude will wash over her as it does each generation

and she will make a

Mental Note to call me.

And she will forget.

But I’ll know,

because I peeped it with

Your God eyes.”

 
― Tina Fey, Bossypants

Happy Mother's Day

Happy Mother's Day to my first mother.
The one who chose life for me.
The one who's name I may never know.
The one who gave me life a second time
when she gave me back to God allowing Him
to give me a mama. The one I wish I could
meet in person so that I could thank her and
tell her how wonderful my life has been.

Happy Mother's Day to my real mother.
The one who gave me a name.
The one who taught me that unconditional
love is the birthright of EVERY child and
does not depend upon genetics. The one
who called me her precious angel, taught
me to bake a pound cake, love rainy days
paired with a good book and how to love
people. The one I miss more than I ever
thought possible and more than I ever thought
I could bear.

Happy Mother's Day to my sister who like
our own mother has helped raise children
she did not give birth to but who grew in
her heart instead. The one who honored
our mother and father in the most perfect
way possible without even knowing she did
so. The one who instinctively held the hand
of her 14 year old sister as we crossed a
parking lot and who still throws her arm across
me protectively if she has to stop the car
too quickly.

Happy Mother's Day to my mother-in-law who
raised a man whose heart is kind and generous.
The one who is a super hero who may appear
to be a mere accountant but who is stronger than
anyone knows. The one who fought her way through
hard times as treacherous as quicksand with a tenacity
I find amazing! The one who raised two boys alone
while teaching them to be strong in adversity, to love
whole-heartedly and to be good to people. To this
day they adore her and so do I!

Happy Mother's Day to teachers everywhere
who mother those who need it the most. You
see, we don't mother them all for many of them
have mothers who do a fine job. We mother the
ones who need us though. The ones who don't
know that they are a gift from God and are
wonderfully made.

Happy Mother's Day to my people. Who know
who they are and who mother me when I feel a
little bit orphaned. MNG forever!

And finally, Happy Mother's Day to the mothers
to be. Who remind us that life goes on and who
give us all reason to believe in miracles.

Today is a good day to be a mother!

Just sayin'.........................

Does Anyone Else Think It is Way Too Early For Back to School?

Remember this kid?  http://justsayingyall.blogspot.com/2010/04/he-waits-for-me-every-day-beside-no.html

When I left school around 8:00 tonight he was there in his usual spot playing with his younger brothers and sisters.

I stole a glance at him as I started the car.

Sure enough, he whirled around at the sound of my engine and the other unseemly noises my car has a habit of emitting.

That giant, goofy grin I love so much was on his face as he ran a few steps closer to the sidewalk.

Once again we waved to each other.

I honestly don't know whose smile was bigger.

I'll bet it was the one on my face.


Just sayin'................................

Oh, and by the way, yes we are already back at work for pre-planning.
And yes, it is still July.
And no, we can't believe it either.

Just sayin'..................

Where I Am From

I am from the little brick house near-by the creek, from Nestlé’s Quick, Duke’s Mayonnaise, Krispy Kreme Doughnuts, homemade biscuits and Mama’s snow cream.


I am from the antique house that still sits behind the mortuary. The house filled with big rooms, tall ceilings and 100 years of ghosts both good and bad.


From the dogwood, the red hot poker, the pyracantha, honey suckle and the pecan tree.


I am from wassail at Christmas, celebrating adoption with anniversaries and blessing the food before it is eaten. From the Hargrove’s sense of family, the Moran’s gentle and loving spirit, the Willett’s strong work ethic and the Dixon’s temper sprinkled with a little bit of crazy.


I am from the reader and the extrovert.


From don’t sweat the small stuff and roll with the punches and from the magic words are these: excuse me, thank you and please.


I am from love the least of these, saved by grace, once saved always saved and do unto others as you would have them do unto you.


I am from the biology of Ireland, Carolina mountains and beaches and Georgia peaches.


I am from grits, homemade ice cream and watermelon.


I am from Boop Boop Dit-tem Dat-tem What-tem Shu, Skin-a-ma Rinky Dinky Dink, The Old Rugged Cross and Pass It On.


From falling in the creek, staying out past dark to play in the snow and coming home when I hear Mama and Daddy whistle. I am from barefoot at church, walking to school, a field of daffodils and dirt clod fights. I am from sweet milk gravy and toast, only one phone in the house and sleeping in unheated bedrooms.


I am from preachers, teachers, veterans and farmers. From Granddaddy’s barn, Bubber’s kitchen, Mamaw’s sleeping porch and Nan’s store. I am from notebook after notebook of family genealogy, ribbon tied letters and old leather photo albums.


I am from those who came before, those who came along with me and those who have their roots in me.


Just sayin'..............

Trying to Focus on the Grateful Side of Life

I miss my mama.

And that's all I have to say about that.

On the grateful side of life.....

I woke this afternoon just in time
to make the medical appointment
scheduled for my daughter.

Trying and failing
for the second consecutive day
to medicate away or sleep off a
migraine I lay there groggily looking
at the tea glass i brought to my room.

It was mysteriously filled to the top
and ice cubes were keeping it cold.

Hmmmm.

I rarely use ice cubes and I knew I had
chugged half the glass before covering my
sore head with a pillow.

True love is a boy who checks on his mama
home from work at an unusual time, recognizes
the signs of a migraine and sneaks her glass away
to refill it with tea and ice.

It's the little things isn't it?

My kids are great at the little things.
It's one trait they all share and it makes
this mama feel loved.

Just sayin'...................................


P.S.  Leave me some comment love-what has made you feel loved lately?

OINK

The sweet little fellow who knew only 2 or 3 letters back in August and in fact re-named several letters including:

*(f)   double j
  (k)  key
  (g)  jew
  (l)   stem
  (i)   linedot 

is now a reader and a writer.

He tells me he wants to be an alligator wrestler
when he grows up and his face really does glow with excitement!

When I inquire about the price of admission he looks insulted.
He says that I can come to the show for free
and that when he is done performing
he is taking all the alligators to Africa.

He gives me a short demonstration of a few moves
he is practicing and he jumps all the way back to his seat.

We wear matching smiles
as we each get back to the mundane task of
Morning Work.

I shake my head thinking,
it seems like it was just last week that I had to say things to him like...

Do NOT lick your name tag.
That's the urinal I was telling you about earlier.
Never, ever sit on it again.
Stop licking your knee and listen to me.
What's so funny about the word, BE-hind? Quit being silly and sit on it.


I'm gonna miss that kid.

Just sayin'........................


*best made up names ever!

A Face A Mother Could Love

Regular readers of this blog have surely noticed the special love I have for Chosen Babies. Those who know me in real life know that I have always wanted to adopt. Adoption wasn't in the cards for me and although as recently as October of this year I informed my co-workers that I wanted to adopt a specific, special baby it doesn't seem that adoption is in my future.

The face you see above belongs to Vanya,

an eight year old little boy living in an Eastern European orphanage.

Vanya is running out of time.

Soon he will be transferred from the orphanage he currently lives in

to a mental institution.

This is what happens to children in his country who are not adopted by a specific age.

Blogger, Adeya, of No Greater Joy Mom, has posted tons of information about little Vanya. She knows first hand, the miracles God performs to bring orphans home. She knows first hand the incredible blessing it is to adopt a child.

Please click here

                   http://www.nogreaterjoymom.com/2011/04/dream-come-true-giveaway.html

to visit Adeya's blog and learn more about Vanya.

You will love learning about her family's adoption journey.

You might even be inspired to make a contribution to a fund that has been set up to help with adoption costs for Vanya's new family.

They are out there somewhere.

Just sayin'...

Storms Likely

The sky matches my mood this evening.

Cloudy with patches of blue.

Intermittent showers possible.

In the words of Ms. Fabulous

through violently gritted teeth........

I HATE this!

I miss her, I miss her, I miss her.

I didn't have enough time.

Forty seven years, eleven months

and sixteen days

were not enough.

So afraid for her to suffer,

I prayed for mercy.

For my compassionate God

to welcome her soon.

He did.

And I am grateful.

But I am still

a child without her mother.

And it hurts.

So much.

Just sayin'....................

More About The Brother

Two of my favorite people took a walk a few days ago.

The man on the left is my brother. He has cheated death
more times than I care to count. I believe God has a few
plans for him.

After weeks-literally weeks- of watching over him as he
struggled to heal and to wake safely from a coma it is
more incredible than you know to see him walking.

Better than watching him walk though, is the sound of his voice!

My brother has a long way to go to reach full recovery.
He is staying with the other man in the photo.

My father.

My dad and sister are juggling tax season along with caring
for my brother. He has physical therepy, occupational therepy,
dental appointments, vision exams, weight to regain and lots
of other things I'm sure I don't know about.

Thanks, Sis!
Thanks, Dad!
Thanks, little brother for coming back to us!

True Love

True love is as elusive as the end of the rainbow.

We all search for it and the luckiest of us find it.

I feel like the luckiest of all because I seem to find it year after year.  Maybe I should say, it finds me.

Take a good hard look at this picture.

To the uninitiated this may look like just another messy desk that may or may not be mine. Notice the missing key on the keyboard. That used to be the ALT key. I told you teachers are underpaid. (See-Get A Job)

This is really about true love and how to recognize it when it happens to you.

True love is finding a prized sticker from
a local dentist's office lovingly stuck to
your computer monitor.

The look on his face when I looked up and
smiled at him more than made up for the
thousands
of times I had to call his name that day.

I sure do love that kid!

Just sayin'................

There aren't very many things
I have found to be as soothing
as sitting on my back porch
rocking away the stress and the
hurries and worries of life.

It is most beautiful there
when stormy skies stain the lake water pewter
and breezes heavy with the promise of rain
send the leaves dancing on their branches.

Just now
the sun broke through the troubled clouds
and gilded those same branches
golden.

The contrast between dark and troubled skies
and hopeful, golden sunlight
reminds me that like the sun,
God never moves.

The sun is always there,
just behind the clouds.

And He is always there.
God never changes.
During our darkest hours
He is there.

So many times over this
past year, I  have been
without words for my prayers.

God heard my heart instead.
And I have learned that there
is great beauty in the storm.