when the world hits hard

My friend writes beautiful truthful godly words here.

Highly recommended reading when the world hits hard.

when i don't need a picture to remember the best of all

Do only people a little off take pictures at funerals?

 

He's too good to me gave me a you're strange look when I told him to take pictures at my daddy's funeral.

 

But I wanted them.  I want to remember.

This is my daddy. And here.

 

I want to remember that no one does funeral sprays on Christmas Eve and Christmas Day so flowers are small on the casket.  Just the way Daddy would have liked them. 

 

 

 

I want to remember and smile at the mismatched group of pallbearers that carried my daddy.  Young grandsons just beginning to shave and boys that look like they are from the mountains because they are.  Borrowed coats and jackets and my daddy would have liked that.  He never saw much need in clothes. 

 

 

 

That I forgot Max was an honorary pallbearer and didn't dress him right and he took off running to catch up in his khakis and furry hood.

 

That it was Mr. Charles that honored my daddy with the words simple, honorable, godly.

 

 

 

Remember how my uncle held tight to my mama.  Holding her up while knowing in two days he'd bury his daughter - right there in that red dirt next to daddy.  How did he hold up?  He'd just said goodbye the morning before. 

 

 

 

I want to remember that it was so cold my hands were going numb.  Gloves were in my pocket but I forgot to use them.

 

I want to look back and see how we all look just alike.  Daddy's look-alike younger brother and aunts I could belong to and the cousin that could have been the fifth one of us girls.  Remember how one red-headed new son carried my daddy tenderly and the other delivered the flag and words of respect to my mama's waiting hands.

 

 

 

I will need to rehear the shofar blow from little Gideon's hands and see that his heart was broken as he cried on his daddy.  That my girls were surrounded by love while we sang Victory in Jesus.  Remember how my daddy liked to hear David play.

 

 

 

 

I need to remember that we got lost on the way to the cemetery that holds the bodies of my daddy's parents.  That I took a rose from daddy's flowers and laid it at Ma's grave.  I will need to laugh when I remember Aunt Sue told me to

 

tell Mama to go fishing with Pee while she waits on the rest of us.  The rest of us ain't coming anytime soon.

 

And I told her.

 

 

 

But no one will ever need to remind me that what we laid to rest that cold day after Christmas Day was just a tired body that had stopped breathing. 

 

That it was just a way to honor Daddy and remember that he was the oldest and wisest of us all.  A way to publically say good-bye for now to a husband, father, brother, grandfather, uncle, and friend. 

 

My daddy wasn't watching us from heaven.  Not flying or sitting on a cloud or even fishing a heavenly pond. 

 

My daddy is falling down at the feet of Jesus.  Not still in awe but forever in awe.

 

And I will see him again. 

When You Pick Taters With Your Pa

There are some things you'd fight a fire for. 

 And this is one of 'em.

When I Absolutely Must Travel Back In Time

I've really messed up.  I can blame it on this medication taken for over a year that I think has completely zapped me of my creativity. Found out today it's even been called the dumb pill.

But, whatever the reason whatever the cause my writing on this white space has suffered from a bad case of nothing.

I know how angry I'm going to be with myself, when I cannot look back on the planning of this wedding and the announcement of another and the police being called on my baby boy and not remember.  Though I doubt I'll forget the last one.

I'm going to be doing a little rewinding. 

He's Too Good To Me has a remote control the girls gave him for Christmas a few years ago that cost sixty dollars.  Be still my heart I remember thinking.  A sixty dollar remote?  But right now I'd pay whatever I could get my hands on for a remote that would rewind and fill this space for the last year.

So, I'm going to be doing a little rewinding.

Last night she stood in front of her daddy with the dress on.  All the altering done and the last payment made and the first time he had seen.  I felt his knee press against me a little bit but I dared not look his way.  Everytime she puts it on I pinch the bridge of my nose to stop the tears.  I tell them - Mamas just get teary sometimes, they don't have to have a reason. But there is a reason and it has wound itself around my heart.  I know this is the beginning of a new life and a new relationship and I'm so proud of her and happy for her and I do remember how it feels and I wouldn't take that feeling from her for the world - breathe - but where did the days go?

So I'll be rewinding to catch back the last six months.  Tomorrow it will be July and he'll be down on one knee.  Travel back with me, okay?  Hold my hand while I squeeze my nose - k?

She's A Very Blessed Little Girl

I lie straight in the bed and stare at the ceiling.

Mommy, I miss Daddy.

 

 

So do I, Maxter, so do I.  But, thank you for sleeping with me every night and protecting me.

This son of mine takes my hand and says -

 

I'll hold 'ou hand, Mommy.  I'll never ever let go.

I don't know where she is or who she is.

 

I don't know if she'll catch a bus for school tomorrow or wet her bed tonight or run to her parents from a scary dream.

 

I don't know if she likes blue popsicles or purple, or if she likes the crust cut off her sandwich or not.

But I am sure of one thing -

she's a very very lucky little girl.

(that is if she can get past him leaving on adventures to save the world from all the villans, and that he often misplaces his secret identity mask - and she'll have to find it - and that he likes to pee off the porch)

she's a very blessed little girl.

In Which A Stranger Brings Me Grace

Yes - each time I notice it when I don't hold it together.

I notice it in a messy home.

I notice it in a laundry room overflowing and a van needing to be cleaned out and plants dying on the front porch.

It's in a kitchen not stocked and a child not being schooled and a husband not being loved.

It's everywhere when I don't hold it together.

 Children fight instead of play and love and even the dog lies lonely in the corner and I lie awake in the dark and despair.

It's everywhere when I don't hold it together.  Cause when Mama doesn't function the world seems to stop spinning order and just slings chaos.  I see the way they look at one another and hear the whispers so why doesn't someone just come on out and say -

Mama's not holding it together.

It's falling apart.  That's what it is.  And it's everywhere when I have days that I feel shook up.  Like a syndrome that shatters.

Like a three day migraine but this is the fourth day of not holding it together and where is a migraine when you need one?  I could count it as excuse but excuse is only that I'm refusing grace and accepting despair tied in a knotted black ribbon.

I'm late for the Pooh movie - cause I forgot the Pooh movie - the only one I wanted to see in the summer showings. When I come in Sandra has bought my tickets and saved my seats and listens when I complain before I ever even say hello.  Maybe I never said hello?

And then a stranger shows me grace and I don't even think she knew it or intended it but just like I used the buttons on his shirt for an impromtu math lesson my gentle Father uses this stranger to remind me that He catches every fall - every one.

I place my order in the drive-thru and she tells me $9.79 and I have a five and three ones and a dollar in change.  And no card.  I'm looking for my card and Izzy's digging for change and I'm looking for my card - the one I still can't find - and I'm remembering that I read somewhere, can't remember where, that only amateurs rush.  I remember hating that when I read it and I'm looking and thinking only amateurs rush when she rolls her eyes and asks me

Is that nine dollars?

Yes, but I'm trying to find my card.

Here. Just take it. Nine's fine.

There was no smile from her, no poor lady she's having a really bad day look on her face. No sympathy - just move the line along.

And I take the bag and wonder if I'll make it home before I cry cause my darlins' will think there's something wrong and there is something wrong but not what they'll think.

Cause now it's shame.  Because it is grace that is everywhere and my Father has a way out all around me and just like Elijah when touched by an angel God shows me that he indeed does care about my struggles and loves me deeply.  He loves me and He is saying she's having a bad day and He whispers a sweet love story to me.

And I listen.  And I ask for courage and faith.  And maybe just a little bit of that sweet life in the hundred acre woods?

And I think I heard my Father say -

Soon, it's coming soon, my child.

Without a Change Was There Ever a Step?

I see it in her eyes.  It is guilt.  It is shame to answer the question I have asked.

How do I know?  I recognize myself, right there.  Right in the eyes of my child.

We read Mark 22:36-39 together.

 “Teacher, which is the greatest commandment in the Law?”

  Jesus replied: "Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind."  This is the first and greatest commandment.  And the second is like it: Love your neighbor as yourself."

I ask Max if he has someone he doesn't like that he needs to practice loving.  Loving like he loves himself.

He laughs and says no.

But across the table I see her face.

I say, I do.

And then she speaks thru her fingers cupped over her mouth.  One of my favorite things about her.

She frowns, I do, too, Mama.

And there it is.  Guilt.  Shame.  She doesn't want to tell me.  Tells me to guess.  I guess wrong.  Twice. 

Then she shares about a new girl she's only been around a few times.  She's not feeling the love, y'all.

But she's feeling the guilt of not feeling the love.

Tears are wanting to fall.

I go to her, put both of my hands on her face and tell her it is okay.  It is okay because there will always be people that we struggle to like.

Life is full of struggles and we fail and we fall.

And why is it that we think our ladder to heaven has rungs further than our eyes can see - when there is only one step.

One simple step full of faith of what cannot be seen - but can be felt in a change.  Without a change was there ever a step?

So I share my failure to love and we promise together to try harder to keep this greatest commandment. Given by the One who walked this earth and understood.  But knew even through that understanding what must be.

What we must be.

My hands leave her face and I hold her hair so soft and remind her what I expect of her and ask her to expect it of me.  It is easier when done together. 

We will remember that God loves that person as much as He loves us.

We will start over.

When We Need To Bring Back Simple

We walk around downtown and I remember only three trips here from my childhood.  Three memories of the big city downtown only a few miles from my home.

Across the bridge over the river and you are there.

I remember being afraid to walk on top of the grates on the sidewalk.

I remember a downtown Krystal.

I remember a store with animated Christmas scenes in the windows.

No more. 

We walk with two of our children and two of our baby girl's friends.  They take photos and are excited to pose in front of The Mayflower.

Here, just a few miles from home.

But we never come here.  There is never a need?

Life is supposed to be simplier now. 

We walk by storefront after storefront of empty windows.  Boarded up buildings.

Life simplified by mega-stores and online shopping.

Once we had to go to Howard's and TG&Y and the Sunflower or Jitney to buy what now can be purchased in one place with no heart.

And with this simplicity we lose much.

When did downtown become a place you must be afraid of after dark?  When even in the daylight hours you can only go so-far before little hairs stand up and you take your child's hand and bravely try to shake off a feeling you don't want to have - when you must turn back from what should be yours.

We watch them ride elevator up and down up and down and take photos of the beautiful work the hands I love created. All the circle trim and the gorgeous banister in the pride of downtown - The King Edward.

They laugh and we are caught in the rain and pass the man selling the hotdogs and check out the train schedule to Chicago and snap photo after photo and I feel like a tourist in my own downtown.

She looks at her daddy and says that would make a good picture if not for the extension cords. I roll my eyes and he proceeds to explain to her the difference between extension cords and power lines while she rolls her eyes and smiles that great big beautiful laugh - I knew that.

And life is not simplier now.  Simple would be when downtown rolled up the streets after dark because they wanted to - not had to.

When churches didn't lock their doors.

Simple would be when there would be more lazy days to do nothing but follow three giddy girls around downtown.

To stroll hand in hand with the man you love and hear and see him smile when he remembers how far it used to be from here to there.

So that's it. 

That's the magic.

Bring back simplier times.

Slow down and get caught in the rain and plan a trip to Chicago on a train you'll probably never take and laugh like a tourist.

And Manna Falls

I don't hear the ding.  Not like the doorbell of my childhood to welcome guest or the ring of the phone to hear voice, because now it's just a sound on my phone that brings only letters. 

And why do we like technology so?

I rarely do hear the ding.

Hours later I find the message.

Mama, guess what?????

And I text back -

What??!!

I wait for the answer. 

I wait to hear blessing in her life that makes up for the pain in her body as I wait for us both to learn that pain is blessing.  Possibilities float around my mind like breezes in the heat.  For do we not count it joy when joy springs in their hearts?

But then I received it and it was like manna to this hungry mama's soul.

Because later I did hear the phone ding.  I was listening.  Waiting.

I feel wonderful today!!!!!!

And it fell. 

Joy came down like rain to a dry land. 

Like food from heaven to a hungry people.

Manna, or Manhu, which means, What is this?

Because do we not recognize gifts when we receive them?  Or do we just forget the giver?

This is a portion to which God has given us and we will take it and remember to be thankful.

The Israelites were wandering and they were grumbling -

". . . but You have brought us out into the desert to starve this entire assembly to death."

Exodus 16:3

It was good and it was wholesome and it looked like pearls fallen from heaven when the Lord gave His answer to His people.


And me the same today as them and it rains from heaven to remind me . . .

"Then you will know that I am the Lord your God."

Exodus 16:12

And like manna we are to gather our joy fresh each morning.  Be thankful throughout the day and do not hoard or become too comfortable or passive as it will melt away like manna when the sun grows hot. 

And there will be void where there should be fullness.

And I need to sleep quietly and rest easy.  I need to trust that God will bring daily bread afresh each morning.  And I need to believe that my life and hers and each of ours is safer in God's storehouse than in our own.

And the manna spoiled if kept overnight.  The Lord provided sweet and fresh each new day. And like our joy today, sweet and fresh each morning to be recognized and gathered. 

And when we have much we forget.  We forget upon who we depend.  We forget to be thankful.  We become independent?  No.  For is there such a thing when we know God?

And He provides just what I need and just when I need it and the gift of Jesus?  The eternal provision for my thirsty and hungry soul - yes and I shout gladness and thankfulness.  And I ask for vision.  For wisdom to recognize the difference between what I want and what I need.

For what I need?

Just to honor and glorify my God.  To recognize the gift in each moment and then let go - believing in the miracle that more will come.

And like the ding I listen and I wait and the manna falls

tasting like

" . . . wafers made with honey."

 Exodus 16:31

And the Son Shines in August

M I Crooked Letter Crooked Letter I Crooked Letter Crooked Letter I Humpback Humpback I

Is there a cooler way to spell a state?  Or an easier way for a child to learn to spell a word?

Know it?

MISSISSIPPI

We are number one in many sad things.  We are last on the list of many good things.

But now there is this . . .

And I'm not so sure how many states would have put this on a section front page.

I'm more sure of how many states would not have.

But this is so much more than just the courage of a journalist.  It is a man's stand.  It is a man's faith that is that of a child.

We are southern.  We are gentle.  We drawl. 

And we are Bible-belt.

Sometimes not so much anymore?

But then, this . . .

Here in the state with the most crooked letters we might tar and feather you and run you out of town on a rail (and you can't make it a parade) if you bad mouth our God.

As a child of the King I hurt and am sad and am frustrated and struggle with how God is being removed from every area of public life.

Even here. 

But then there is this . . .

Somewhere in our state August wrote a letter to God.

And God performed another one of His many how'd that happen miracles and this letter ended up at the largest newspaper in our state.

And even though it's not so large it shined on Sunday.

Oh, it shined.

August, wherever you are I join Mr. Watkins in praying for you and your sister. 

And Mr. Watkins, thank you.

And the double hump-back state?  Straighten your back and stand proud.

Read A Letter to August here.

Do You Think I'm Cute?

He brings the mail in and sets it down.  It has been a good day.  A day of friends and picture taking and watching them learn and grow.

There's a manilla envelope at the bottom of the stack.  My name on it.

I start to grin, and fuss.

Nancy shouldn't have mailed these.  Look, it costs her $1.79 to mail these.  She should have just given them to me later.

All the while tearing into the envelope.  Cause isn't mail nice when it's not expected?

But then -

This is not . . .

I laugh.  Loud.  Feels so good.

Look, look what Nancy sent me.

And out I pull a little piece of sweet friendship.  She writes that she couldn't resist this little onsie for my new nephew.

What sweetness.  So thoughtful.

So, may I present my newest love in my gift onsie that speaks only the truth.

thanks, nancy
love ya

I Take Down the Nativity

I pick him up from Sunday School with a label stuck to his shirt and he wears label proudly on his chest.

Be kind to one another

He keeps it on all day.

Next day I find label sticking to the edge of the doorframe of his bedroom.

Why is this here?

I ask him.  Thinking I know the answer.  Whispering a prayer I know the answer.  Knowing that sometimes you do get things right with your children and get to reap. 

All standing there in person reaping what I have tried so hard to sow.

I put tis here like lu do.  When Gideland comes he will see it 'cause I lov Gideland.

And I'm grateful and a little proud because I have taught him to place in his path that which you can meditate on that is good. 

That which Gideland's mother taught me.

But then I have to stop.  Because I'm struggling right now.  I've even found it hard to breathe today.  I've had moments of fear that have made me feel as if my throat is closing up.

How does my heavenly Father feel when He cannot reap in me what He sows?

Because I have struggled to hold on to even the words I have placed in my own path. 

God's words. 

 Given to me as breath for when I can't breathe.

I take down the nativity.  The last of the Christmas decorations I have been dragging my feet on.  I carry as many figurines as I can in my hand to speed up the job.  Then I pick up the baby and forget he's not attached and he falls out of the manger.

I catch this clay baby before he hits the floor and I breathe relief.

Gently I carry him to the box that will tuck him away for another year.  Stored up in the attic with dust and memories.

But that's where I stop.  I find myself seperating this baby from the other pieces and placing him on the shelf beside the broken punch cup.  That day I was so broken down.

I will leave Jesus out all year.  For not only my eyes but the eyes of my son to see.

I think of the label. 

 How I long to proudly wear on my chest, like a badge of honor -

I love you, Jesus.
I trust you, my God.
Thank you for breath when I can't breathe.

And as a friend reminded me today -

Thank you for being bigger . . .