Thomas Wolfe said, "You can't go home again"...hmmm! Really? I've been pondering this a lot lately as I have returned for my second term as an instructional technology facilitator. I am now in my second year of my second time back, but it's my fifth year total. I finally feel that I am "home" in a sense. I adore my co-workers and get a lot of fulfillment from working with my assigned staff and students. Today, was one of those days when I feel I made the difference for a media specialist, and I loved it when a student called me by name as I walked down the hall. I had to take a double-take to recall how this student even knew me. It finally came to me, "OH yeah!! I taught his class how to use Google Gmail, last week! Yay! He remembered my name" (Happy dance on the side... I guess we never get too old or too sophisticated to appreciate being called by name)!!
Returning "home" is an amazing thing! Sometimes, I wonder why I left. Sometimes I am afraid I'll have to leave again. Today, was both of these extremes for me. There was excitement about lessons to be co-taught this week, anticipation over celebrating an upcoming birthday party with my coworker family, and pride in overcoming a professional milestone (My ITF certification should be in the mail any day). Then, there was the moment where we were asked to share something we learned at a conference. This is a dreaded moment for the "Old Lisa" who would rather be behind-the-scenes. That same tightening in my stomache and second-guessing what to prepare was there. "What 'most exciting' tool, gadget, trinket, THING can I share?" Ugghh!! I was in that same old downward spiral, tailspin...but only for a moment. This time coming home is different. This time, I know who I am and finally see clearly what I missed before.
As I sat trying to think about what "thing" to share that would change humanity forever (LOL!), I realized that this was the wrong question. The question is, "What made me most passionate at my conference? What will make me want to change my teaching practices to be a better educator? What might make someone else want to change to make the difference for a student?" Then, I knew. I had my answer. It wasn't going to be a thing afterall. It was going to be a belief...a pedagogy. I knew what to share. Some people get excited about things, gadgets, who-dads. They are the people like my twin brother who take everything apart to see what makes it tick. They are quite fascinating people, and I am in such awe of them. On this trip "home", however, I realize that it is okay to be the person who puts things back together to see how beautiful they look as a whole. Not all of us have to be the explorer-scientists. Some of us can be the healer-doctors.
Before as an ITF, I was focused on learning new tools and finding new apps, discovering new programs; and I was very bored and unfulfilled. This was not my passion. My passion is finding out what makes a person tick, what his/her favorite moments are, what makes him/her want to get up in the morning, what is the last thing he/she thinks of at night, what life luxury could that person not live without (for me that is bubble baths, bubble gum and beautiful music), what hurt has this person survived that has made him/her stronger? I was asking the wrong questions before. I was focused on the things not the people for whom the things were made. I couldn't sale "things". I couldn't peddle that as hard as I tried. I didn't care about that. So, I thought I had to leave "home" to find people who thought the same way as me. The irony is...the people back "home" were those people who thought like me. We often leave "home" in search of "something". The amazing thing is that we usually find ourselves rather than the something else for which we are looking. We also usually discover that everything we really loved was back "home" all along.
Tonight, I am very happy to be back "home", and I am even more happy to be home as the Lisa I love and even sometimes like...the Lisa who prefers people to apps, listening to talking and behind-the-scenes to out-front-for-the world to-see! Much love to my "family" who patiently let me take this journey and then welcomed me back home when it was time! Thank you for making me passionate about the technology we use as a vehicle to love the people that I am passionate about serving.
“The best way to find yourself is to lose yourself in the service of others.”
― Mahatma Gandhi
Monday, December 9, 2013
Saturday, July 20, 2013
Refusing to be Pigeonholed, Pegged, or Pinned
This time tomorrow I will have been the proud mother of the most wonderful fella in the world for two decades! The time has certainly flown. He is such an amazing young man. He is complex and complicated with a very tender heart. I will never forget the first moment I held him in my arms, how he smelled, how felt and how my heart expanded to feel a depth of love I have never known. From the moment his blinking, little eyes grasped mine, I was forever in love!
When I try to categorize him or describe him, this is difficult. I often say to others who inquire about him, "He is just so amazing, you have to meet him. He is very independent and unique."(Some would even say he is "Fearfully and Wonderfully made). Both of my children are unique paradoxes and quite strong-willed in their own right.
From the day of his birth, Tyler has been defying our predictions and refusing to allow us to pigeonhole or peg him. I recall thinking I was in labor--though it was two weeks early--and making a 2:00 p.m. visit to my doctor. He assured me that it would be several more days. WRONG! It was only several more hours. After disappointedly going home to wait for a few more days, Tyler decided to make his arrival only 6 hours later at 8:35 p.m. We were hardly at the hospital long enough to settle in, until we were holding a 6lb 3oz, 19 in long beautiful boy! This was only the first surprise of the evening, because we were told that Tyler would be a girl! WRONG! The ultrasounds twenty years ago were really good, but not a accurate as those of today, and Tyler (true to form) never gave us a great view as to his gender. So, my doctor's best prediction was a girl. We scrambled to change the "Cabbage Patch Doll" themed nursery to a circus theme ASAP. (The circus theme seemed appropriate since Tyler was quite the clown. Grandma Susan and Paw Paw Ronnie's first gift to him was a porcelain clown doll.)
Through the years, Tyler has continued to be his own person. He has always been so independent and has never allowed others to choose his path for him. This fact has been the source of my greatest joy and my greatest frustration at times. Watching him as he won the countywide silver medal for wrestling in middle school and the tenacity he displayed always astounded me. He was only pinned once by someone he had pinned earlier. What a determination!
So, this is my boy! He won't be be pigeonholed, pegged or pinned. He continues to surprise us and to forge his own path. I am thankful that this path is forged with God. I am also thankful that the tenacity and firm grip that he has on his own course is the same one he has in his faith. For certainly, there is no love I want more for Tyler than for him to be in love with The King of Kings. Happy birthday my precious, Tyler! When did you grow so fast?
Hebrews 22-25 So let’s do it—full of belief, confident that we’re presentable inside and out. Let’s keep a firm grip on the promises that keep us going. He always keeps his word. Let’s see how inventive we can be in encouraging love and helping out, not avoiding worshiping together as some do but spurring each other on, especially as we see the big Day approaching.
Sunday, July 7, 2013
My Phone Call from Paris
C.S. Lewis once said, "Friendship is unnecessary, like philosophy, like art...It has no survival value; rather it is one of those things that give value to survival.". I believe this to be true. As the child of a pastor, I was blessed with many priceless things: being a witness to faith in action, having many varied life experiences which have served to make me more tolerate, the chance to see all kinds of people and realize that at the heart of it all, we really all have the same needs. I am so thankful for these many blessings and so much more. However, one of the things, I did not get (although it turned out to be one of the greatest blessings) was the luxury of "staying put" in one place for very long. As a PK (preacher's kid), you often are transient. This was certainly our story. I attended six schools by the time I was in the fourth grade. As one could guess, this isn't the perfect scenario for making friends. As was the case, it seemed I was constantly introducing myself to someone and proving myself to someone else. As a very shy child, this wasn't much to my enjoyment or comfort, but it did prove to make me stronger.
Being of the female gender, we tend to form cliques more readily (which I still hate with a passion). I, unfortunately, was usually not top in the clique list in elementary school due to the fact that everyone had already formed some type of social group by the time I arrived. This was a sincere source of hurt as a child and something that I work hard as a teacher to remedy, today. I hated feeling like I was on the outside looking in or a spectator on the sidelines. I want all children (young ones and adult ones) to have a sense of belonging. This being the case, I spent a lot of nights praying for my own "best" friend. I have always been blessed in abundance with a wonderful family, but almost every little girl wants and needs her own best friend. I sometimes wondered when God would answer this prayer. It wasn't immediate or even in elementary school, but the good news is He does answer prayer in His timing--which is perfect.
Today, I got a precious phone call from Paris, and my mind was flooded with these childhood memories and my earnest prayers for a "best friend" of my own. I was reminded again at how this prayer had come to fruition in such a tender way. God granted me more than I could ask or even hope. The sweetest, dearest lady...MY very best friend greeted me on the other line as she ALWAYS does when she is out of the country. In the sixteen years that I have loved her she has never ceased to ask me to join her on everyone of her many mission trips (too many to count now), and when I can't go...she brings me along via phone and by reliving each exciting account and detail with me when she returns. She has called me from Sudan, Israel, Mombasa, Nicaragua; and yes, Paris where we have strolled down many rues eating decadent crepes together! She has called me to cry, to laugh, to rejoice, to ask me to pray or encourage her faith; and she has called to remind me of our friendship.
So, yes...God does answer prayers perfectly and in His timing, and my sweet reminder today was gift wrapped all the way from Paris, and begin with "Lisa, Hey Chickie! This is Wanda. We're in Paris. Can you talk? I want to hear about you and share some exciting things God is doing. " These words are always faithful to come, simplistic to my ears and priceless to my heart!
“We cannot tell the precise moment when friendship formed. As in filling a vessel drop by drop, there is at last a drop which makes it run over; so in a series of kindness there is at last one which makes the heart run over. ”
Sunday, June 23, 2013
1938 Antique Cabinet Style Radios Other Relics
There you are just as beautiful as ever. You've hardly aged from your 1938 inception. Your glossy photofinish over that impressive woodwork covering of yours still makes smile. Even your push buttons and radiobuttons are perfect. You used to be taller than me in your gorgeous wooden standup cabinet, but not anymore. I've finally grown taller than you. I can even reach your buttons to tune in a station of my choosing--albeit AM choices. How'd you do it? How'd you stay so perfect and never age a bit?
I loved the story of how you came to be my grandma's. What a peace offering you must have been after the "disagreement" between wife and husband! How he carried you home to Grandma on his back to tell her he was sorry and that he loved her. Was my grandma touched by this gesture?
Oh how I loved to listen to you with my grandma as you would spout out some amazing tune or bellow out some preacher's message on a Sunday. I loved listening to you even though I was privileged to have a color T.V. in my house. I think I loved listening to you because I knew how much my grandmother loved you. She and I would gather around as your stations were aglow and you would enchant us for hours on end. How important you must have felt. Did you get to hear Orson Welles The War of the Worlds? I can't imagine what that would be like to hear this firsthand!
Tonight, I looked at you for a long while after cleaning the room that used to be occupied by the woman who loved you so much and is now occupied by her great-grandson. I hated you for a moment. How could you still be in the same room in almost the same location with the same beautiful exterior, but everything else seems to have changed? How could you be here when Grandma is not? How could you still look as beautiful as you did when I first saw you as a child? How could you have been here before me, before my children or my grandchildren? How is it that you will most likely be here when I am gone? You will make some other grandmother happy (for now the grandmother is me) and some other child? At least I hope you will be cherished by someone for the years you have conquered if for no other reason.
Though she's been gone almost 7 years now, I can remember Grandma polishing you with such care. As I stared at you awhile longer, I swear I could see you and her 1917 Treadle Singer Sewing Machine exchange smiles. How could I not be thankful for you...thankful that she left you two to me. The memories of her with you both are forever etched in my heart. These were memories of her as some of her finest most happy moments. I miss her so--even now. I suppose I will for always. I guess I should say thank you for reminding me of her again tonight as you frequently do and of the deep love she had for each of us. So...it is with a sincere heart, that I am thankful for a beautiful token of beautiful memories. Thank you my old relic friend, and do share your beauty secrets with the rest of us relics!
Friday, May 17, 2013
JUST JUMP!!
My dad was (and still is) one of the strongest men I know. He is determined but flexible, kind but firm and so, so, so jolly! He was the first fella I ever loved and no other fella could ever take his special place in my heart. His voice is one of my favorites. Even now, after his stroke, when I sometimes don't understand his words, I still love his voice--especially when he calls me by name. I love to hear the timbre of it. It always makes me feel safe and leaves me unconsciously smiling.
One of my fondest memories of him was a day when my family and several others gathered for a picnic at "the river" in the mountains of North Carolina. The weather was perfect: sunny and warm with a slight breeze. The smell of hamburgers and hotdogs filled the air, and my buddies were letting out joyous window-shattering screams as they soared on a rope hanging from a tree in order to free-fall into the river below. It looked like such fun as I watched them soaring through the air--my crazy twin brother among them!
I, on the other hand, was once again being my daddy's shadow. We were in the river. He was chest deep and continued to wade deeper and deeper into the water. I followed him as far as I could, finally perching on a very slippery rock where the water came to my chest. My daddy turned and looked at me. Then, he looked at my crazy monkey of a brother hooping and hollering from the treetops. He must have wondered if I was having as much fun as Troy, my brother. The fact is, I was totally enjoying having my dad all to myself. My dad finally caught my green eyes with his dark brown ones and said, "Lisa...just jump." He smiled very gently. My head said, "No way!" (which is something my mouth would never have said to him). I stared blankly at him for a minute. He repeated, "Lisa, just jump. I've got ya." His eyes never left mine. My heart was screaming, "You know he's got ya. He loves you more than his own life. Jump, Girl". My head was saying, "Are you crazy? That water will be over your head!". The struggle between heart and head seemed to last forever, but finally my heart won. I jumped! For a nanosecond, I began to sink. Water was blurring my vision. Bubbles poured from my lips. I was doubting my decision to jump and starting to get pretty scared, but then...there he was. Those gigantic arms that had helped him win numerous wrestling matches in the service were now tenderly, but powerfully pulling me through the water and up to the surface where he was. I remember him draping my tiny arms around his neck as my legs dangled in the water. He was laughing (I was coughing a bit), and he said, "See? That wasn't bad now. Was it?" The truth is, it wasn't bad. The bigger shock was that it was actually more fun the deeper we treaded into the river. He knew what I didn't. Sometimes you just have to jump!
In so many ways in my life, I'm back at "the river" right now. This season of my life is that nanosecond where I am wondering if I really should have jumped...and what is going to happen next. The truth is...I know that while Daddy can't grab me up into his strong arms again, Abba Father can! I'm just waiting and knowing that at any moment, I will feel myself soaring up through the heavy weight of the river and toward the light of the Son where my lungs will soon be renewed and refreshed. I will laugh and know that all along deeper is better and Abba has had me all along! Sometimes you just have to jump!
One of my fondest memories of him was a day when my family and several others gathered for a picnic at "the river" in the mountains of North Carolina. The weather was perfect: sunny and warm with a slight breeze. The smell of hamburgers and hotdogs filled the air, and my buddies were letting out joyous window-shattering screams as they soared on a rope hanging from a tree in order to free-fall into the river below. It looked like such fun as I watched them soaring through the air--my crazy twin brother among them!
I, on the other hand, was once again being my daddy's shadow. We were in the river. He was chest deep and continued to wade deeper and deeper into the water. I followed him as far as I could, finally perching on a very slippery rock where the water came to my chest. My daddy turned and looked at me. Then, he looked at my crazy monkey of a brother hooping and hollering from the treetops. He must have wondered if I was having as much fun as Troy, my brother. The fact is, I was totally enjoying having my dad all to myself. My dad finally caught my green eyes with his dark brown ones and said, "Lisa...just jump." He smiled very gently. My head said, "No way!" (which is something my mouth would never have said to him). I stared blankly at him for a minute. He repeated, "Lisa, just jump. I've got ya." His eyes never left mine. My heart was screaming, "You know he's got ya. He loves you more than his own life. Jump, Girl". My head was saying, "Are you crazy? That water will be over your head!". The struggle between heart and head seemed to last forever, but finally my heart won. I jumped! For a nanosecond, I began to sink. Water was blurring my vision. Bubbles poured from my lips. I was doubting my decision to jump and starting to get pretty scared, but then...there he was. Those gigantic arms that had helped him win numerous wrestling matches in the service were now tenderly, but powerfully pulling me through the water and up to the surface where he was. I remember him draping my tiny arms around his neck as my legs dangled in the water. He was laughing (I was coughing a bit), and he said, "See? That wasn't bad now. Was it?" The truth is, it wasn't bad. The bigger shock was that it was actually more fun the deeper we treaded into the river. He knew what I didn't. Sometimes you just have to jump!
In so many ways in my life, I'm back at "the river" right now. This season of my life is that nanosecond where I am wondering if I really should have jumped...and what is going to happen next. The truth is...I know that while Daddy can't grab me up into his strong arms again, Abba Father can! I'm just waiting and knowing that at any moment, I will feel myself soaring up through the heavy weight of the river and toward the light of the Son where my lungs will soon be renewed and refreshed. I will laugh and know that all along deeper is better and Abba has had me all along! Sometimes you just have to jump!
Tuesday, May 7, 2013
I Finally Get it, Grandma
My grandmother Pannell was like my second mom. My brother, sister and I were fortunate to have her live with us for most of our lives. It was twice as nice as having your own nanny...cause she was kin! She would have been 98 years old, today. She was born May 8, 1915. She's been gone eight years now; and there isn't a day that passes that my heart doesn't ache to hear her precious mountain woman voice again.
Born in Sylvia, North Carolina and a mere 5'3" and 105 lb frame, she defied all the stereotypes of her day. You couldn't put her nicely in any little box. I love this about her! She and I are the tallest ladies in our family at 5'3"---towering well above my 5' 0" tall mom and sister. She could out muscle a man, out work an ox and outwit the most scholarly. She only had a fourth grade education (due to health issues with her eyes), but I don't know anyone wiser. There wasn't anything from motors and mechanics to sewing and baking that she couldn't fix. It wasn't until I was an adult that I realized that not everyone's grandma had that special talent. She wasn't perfect, but she loved perfectly, and I am still in awe of her. She divorced in a time period when that wasn't acceptable. She raised my mother as a single mom (also frowned upon). She was crass and kind---tough and tender. She was a risk-taker that I'm not and cautious with those she loved. I've never known such a paradox, and I am totally convinced Meleah, my daughter, gets her strong-will from my Mawmaw Pannell. She wasn't graceful, but she was gracious. She didn't have a lot of use for make-up, but she did enjoy a pretty piece of jewelry now and then. She could be found hauling all the "street people" for a lunch at a downtown diner at least once a month. She never gave them cash, but she couldn't bear to see anyone hungry--so she fed them at Sweetland's. She had NO material possessions, but she would consider herself the wealthiest woman alive. She had her God and her family, and these were her greatest contentment. Though she wouldn't be considered posh or well-read by the world's standards, she could be found reading from the Bible at least twice a day, and on occasion she relished a good Grace Livingston Hill novel.
Such opposite characters we are--she the mountain woman who was direct and simple and me the coastal baby who is circuitous and complex---yet my life would not have been complete without her. If I could have her back for only a moment, I would tell her the sweetest memory I have of her is when I was only seven. It was a Wednesday evening service at church. She was singing "The Old Rugged Cross". She sang:
She mispronounced the "f" sound in trophy reading it as a "p" sound. Being an Academically Gifted kid, I felt compelled to correct her until...I looked up and saw her face. At the moment, I knew it didn't matter to God how the words were pronounced. I also knew that at that moment the only thing that mattered to my grandma was Him! As much as she loved me and as much as she loved His people we were insignificant to her expression of love to Him for His sacrifice at that moment. So, I just watched her worship, and it was beautiful. She with her wrinkles and gray hair was the most beautiful woman I had ever seen! She was my proof that there was a God and that He loved me, too! To this day when we sing "The Old Rugged Cross", I intentionally sing it just like her sometimes...and my tropies, I lay down...just to remind myself about what and Who matters most.
Eight years? It's still hard to believe she's gone, and more this year than any I would love to have her back. Before she passed, she was my best friend; so there was nothing left unsaid between us. She knows my secrets, and I know hers. I've never been one for holding my feelings inside, anyhow. So, I have no regrets except...I still don't know how to make gravy and biscuits the way she did and would love another lesson---and though I still distinctly remember the feeling of her soft, small hands in mine, I'd loved to feel those little hands again, But most of all...I'd like to tell her "I finally get it!" Tomorrow my Carter--my sweet grandson-- will be a year old (just one day after her birthday); and I finally get how much she must have loved us. Everyday my heart is overwhelmed by his precious little face. I could never have imagined loving someone as much as Tyler and Meleah. They own my heart!! Yet it is so amazing how your heart expands and just loves more and more! So, I get it, Grandma; and it only makes me love you all the more! I can't wait to introduce you to my precious Carter, one sweet day!
“We all possess knowledge.” But knowledge puffs up while love builds up. 2 Those who think they know something do not yet know as they ought to know.
1 Corinthians 8"1-3
Born in Sylvia, North Carolina and a mere 5'3" and 105 lb frame, she defied all the stereotypes of her day. You couldn't put her nicely in any little box. I love this about her! She and I are the tallest ladies in our family at 5'3"---towering well above my 5' 0" tall mom and sister. She could out muscle a man, out work an ox and outwit the most scholarly. She only had a fourth grade education (due to health issues with her eyes), but I don't know anyone wiser. There wasn't anything from motors and mechanics to sewing and baking that she couldn't fix. It wasn't until I was an adult that I realized that not everyone's grandma had that special talent. She wasn't perfect, but she loved perfectly, and I am still in awe of her. She divorced in a time period when that wasn't acceptable. She raised my mother as a single mom (also frowned upon). She was crass and kind---tough and tender. She was a risk-taker that I'm not and cautious with those she loved. I've never known such a paradox, and I am totally convinced Meleah, my daughter, gets her strong-will from my Mawmaw Pannell. She wasn't graceful, but she was gracious. She didn't have a lot of use for make-up, but she did enjoy a pretty piece of jewelry now and then. She could be found hauling all the "street people" for a lunch at a downtown diner at least once a month. She never gave them cash, but she couldn't bear to see anyone hungry--so she fed them at Sweetland's. She had NO material possessions, but she would consider herself the wealthiest woman alive. She had her God and her family, and these were her greatest contentment. Though she wouldn't be considered posh or well-read by the world's standards, she could be found reading from the Bible at least twice a day, and on occasion she relished a good Grace Livingston Hill novel.
Such opposite characters we are--she the mountain woman who was direct and simple and me the coastal baby who is circuitous and complex---yet my life would not have been complete without her. If I could have her back for only a moment, I would tell her the sweetest memory I have of her is when I was only seven. It was a Wednesday evening service at church. She was singing "The Old Rugged Cross". She sang:
So I’ll cherish the old rugged cross,
Till my trophies at last I lay down;
I will cling to the old rugged cross,
And exchange it some day for a crown.
She mispronounced the "f" sound in trophy reading it as a "p" sound. Being an Academically Gifted kid, I felt compelled to correct her until...I looked up and saw her face. At the moment, I knew it didn't matter to God how the words were pronounced. I also knew that at that moment the only thing that mattered to my grandma was Him! As much as she loved me and as much as she loved His people we were insignificant to her expression of love to Him for His sacrifice at that moment. So, I just watched her worship, and it was beautiful. She with her wrinkles and gray hair was the most beautiful woman I had ever seen! She was my proof that there was a God and that He loved me, too! To this day when we sing "The Old Rugged Cross", I intentionally sing it just like her sometimes...and my tropies, I lay down...just to remind myself about what and Who matters most.
Eight years? It's still hard to believe she's gone, and more this year than any I would love to have her back. Before she passed, she was my best friend; so there was nothing left unsaid between us. She knows my secrets, and I know hers. I've never been one for holding my feelings inside, anyhow. So, I have no regrets except...I still don't know how to make gravy and biscuits the way she did and would love another lesson---and though I still distinctly remember the feeling of her soft, small hands in mine, I'd loved to feel those little hands again, But most of all...I'd like to tell her "I finally get it!" Tomorrow my Carter--my sweet grandson-- will be a year old (just one day after her birthday); and I finally get how much she must have loved us. Everyday my heart is overwhelmed by his precious little face. I could never have imagined loving someone as much as Tyler and Meleah. They own my heart!! Yet it is so amazing how your heart expands and just loves more and more! So, I get it, Grandma; and it only makes me love you all the more! I can't wait to introduce you to my precious Carter, one sweet day!
“We all possess knowledge.” But knowledge puffs up while love builds up. 2 Those who think they know something do not yet know as they ought to know.
1 Corinthians 8"1-3
Friday, March 29, 2013
Home Is Where Your Mama Is
Yep...She's still Mama to me! Not Mother, Mom, Ma, etc. I'm Southern and proud to be. So, she's Mama even all these decades later. I love the sound of the name. The way it's soft sounds hits your ears. I love the feel of it as it leaves your lips, and I love the way your heart warms when you say it. I especially love that I have been a part of the ranks of Mama's for a couple decades now. There's no greater calling, I am certain.
My precious Mama's birthday is on Easter. This is totally appropriate for me. This is the day when I celebrate my love for the two most influential people in my life: Mama and Jesus! Both have loved me unconditionally and fiercely! I can rest completely in their arms and know that I am "home"!! I have many sweet memories of my Mama. She was raised by a single mom who was a Mountain Woman in every sense of the word (can't wait to blog about her). Mama survived cancer, overcame infertility (and survived twins...yep me and Troy), raised three grateful children, has been a daily example to me of what a devoted wife should be, and has become one of the most amazing grandmas and great grandmas that I know. She's the toughest most gentle woman I've ever had the privilege of knowing. I am honored to be a part of her.
Some of my most favorite memories of Mama revolve around afternoon walks together to look at nature. She was so articulate as we talked and walked. Her voice was so soothing. I loved how she would tell me stories as we walked. These stories tended to linger on until bedtime--all due to my incessant persisting. Now I know how tired she must have been, but I never felt anything but love back then. I am certain these experiences have shaped my love for nature, my love for the spoken word and my auditory learning style.
My favorite memories are of watching her on Sunday mornings. She smelled so good...like muffins, butter, soap, and perfume. I can still almost smell the sweet, clean, soundness of this aroma! I loved watching her as she finished studying and preparing to teach her Sunday school class. She always glowed as she studied God's Word. Throughout her Sunday morning ritual, her nails and hair were becoming perfect as she let both of them dry under her hair dryer! She applied her make-up so perfectly (only adding to her intoxicating aroma was the smell of ladies' compressed powder). She was beautiful, elegant, smart, feminine...and being observed by a very watchful eye! She never knew that I was taking it all in or how much these memories would impact me to this day...or how I would LOVE to go back and relive them once more!
I love you so much, Mama! Happy Birthday! I thank God every day that He left you with us for awhile longer. I thank you for teaching me how to love this God of yours and showing me how awesome He is, and I thank you for showing us what it means to be a Godly wife, mother and woman. You've set the bar high...and we love you for it!
Source: Memories Of Being Your Mom, Thoughts Of You, Mother Poem http://www.familyfriendpoems.com/poem/memories-of-being-your-mom-thoughts-of-you#ixzz2OvboEAwT
www.FamilyFriendPoems.com
My precious Mama's birthday is on Easter. This is totally appropriate for me. This is the day when I celebrate my love for the two most influential people in my life: Mama and Jesus! Both have loved me unconditionally and fiercely! I can rest completely in their arms and know that I am "home"!! I have many sweet memories of my Mama. She was raised by a single mom who was a Mountain Woman in every sense of the word (can't wait to blog about her). Mama survived cancer, overcame infertility (and survived twins...yep me and Troy), raised three grateful children, has been a daily example to me of what a devoted wife should be, and has become one of the most amazing grandmas and great grandmas that I know. She's the toughest most gentle woman I've ever had the privilege of knowing. I am honored to be a part of her.
Some of my most favorite memories of Mama revolve around afternoon walks together to look at nature. She was so articulate as we talked and walked. Her voice was so soothing. I loved how she would tell me stories as we walked. These stories tended to linger on until bedtime--all due to my incessant persisting. Now I know how tired she must have been, but I never felt anything but love back then. I am certain these experiences have shaped my love for nature, my love for the spoken word and my auditory learning style.
My favorite memories are of watching her on Sunday mornings. She smelled so good...like muffins, butter, soap, and perfume. I can still almost smell the sweet, clean, soundness of this aroma! I loved watching her as she finished studying and preparing to teach her Sunday school class. She always glowed as she studied God's Word. Throughout her Sunday morning ritual, her nails and hair were becoming perfect as she let both of them dry under her hair dryer! She applied her make-up so perfectly (only adding to her intoxicating aroma was the smell of ladies' compressed powder). She was beautiful, elegant, smart, feminine...and being observed by a very watchful eye! She never knew that I was taking it all in or how much these memories would impact me to this day...or how I would LOVE to go back and relive them once more!
I love you so much, Mama! Happy Birthday! I thank God every day that He left you with us for awhile longer. I thank you for teaching me how to love this God of yours and showing me how awesome He is, and I thank you for showing us what it means to be a Godly wife, mother and woman. You've set the bar high...and we love you for it!
Mother Poem
A mother looks back fondly on raising her child and she wants that child to know it was always a privilege to be a mom.
Thoughts Of You
© Paula Stone
Memories of another time still come
To me and fill my mind, with thoughts
Of you when you were young. I lie awake
‘Till the morning sun comes creeping
Through my window shade, as I dwell upon
Mistakes I've made. What I would give to
Go back in time and feel you’re little
Hand in mine. To cherish each fast and
Fleeting day. To hold you close and kiss
Away, each pain that life will have in
Store and try to give you so much more.
You are part and will always be, imbedded in the soul of me. While I'm
Here, I want to say, that I've loved you
Each and every day and when my time on
Earth is gone.
The privilege was mine to have been your Mom.
To me and fill my mind, with thoughts
Of you when you were young. I lie awake
‘Till the morning sun comes creeping
Through my window shade, as I dwell upon
Mistakes I've made. What I would give to
Go back in time and feel you’re little
Hand in mine. To cherish each fast and
Fleeting day. To hold you close and kiss
Away, each pain that life will have in
Store and try to give you so much more.
You are part and will always be, imbedded in the soul of me. While I'm
Here, I want to say, that I've loved you
Each and every day and when my time on
Earth is gone.
The privilege was mine to have been your Mom.
Source: Memories Of Being Your Mom, Thoughts Of You, Mother Poem http://www.familyfriendpoems.com/poem/memories-of-being-your-mom-thoughts-of-you#ixzz2OvboEAwT
www.FamilyFriendPoems.com
Friday, March 15, 2013
Must LOVE Seahorses
 |
| Must LOVE Seahorses |
Tonight I was reflecting on my own little girl. She is complicated, cultured, complex, coy, crass, charming, and stupefyingly beautiful! I adore her with all my soul! I have truly never gazed into more breath-taking blue eyes. Nor have I ever seen a pair of blues that can rage like a stormy sea in a moment's notice. She is fire and ice. She is strong and gentle. I love the paradox of Meleah. She is such a contradiction. I guess that is what it means to be female, after all. There are many things I don't know about this complicated gender status, but what I do know is that there is no greater joy than being blessed to be a woman who gets to experience each stage as her daughter blossoms into one!
I read a poem tonight that inspired me to the core. It was my Meleah spilled out in words on a page. I had to change a word or two (sorry Bailey) so that it would not offend. I do love this poem! Hope you will see a bit of you or another stunning and strong-willed lady between the lines!
Bailey B "specifically the seahorses"
(aka: Must Love Seahorses)
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