Witness to a blessing. it's a powerful thing.

I can't think of one single element of love that means more than simple kindness, can you? You know when someone goes the extra mile to make your life easier. Someone goes out of their way to help you and it renews your faith in mankind. I happen to believe God allows us these things just when we need them most, to encourage and lift us.

Traveling this week, we met up with one of my dear friends from those Jazzercise days. We planned dinner together at a great little pizza place. We met up, enjoyed our dinner together and after hugs and promises to see each other again next visit, Don and I hopped in our car and started to head out.
Quickly my friend realized she had locked herself out of her car. Oops! We pulled back in and just as men do, my husband began to access the situation to see if he could get the door open.
Because we are traveling, we neither had our regular sets of keys, everything pared down for the trip.
He needs a wire coat hanger. No one carries wire hangers anymore and I can tell you, one is going in my cubby space in the back of the car when I get home.

He began asking total strangers if they had her car model keys. He got some funny looks and a little shying away but as soon as they realized he was legit, they relaxed and most were quite sympathetic and kind. Thank you Lord for allowing us to see kindness.
It's been about 30 minutes and we know the sheriff won't come unlock the car unless there's a child locked in it. (Thanks a lot Osceola County Florida.. You were just a big help. Oh, no.. no you weren't) If we had a child in the car they could unlock the door!  A locksmith will be at least $75. (I think not)

I'm pretty persuasive and decided I would take my car, drive around and see if I could find a sheriff or some business that may have a coat hanger lying around..  I'm not sure what I would say to the sheriff but I'm pretty sure I could get him there. Oh, and the rain is now at monsoon levels.

I start in the next logical place, Krispy Kreme doughnuts just to the east of the shopping center. I know it's hard to believe but no sheriff. I peruse a couple more businesses and then I see a hotel.  They may have uniforms hanging up for staff and could have a hanger. I pulled in and made my request, the manager on duty was kind enough to contact his maintenance guy working this evening. He said he would look and get back to me. In about ten minutes he comes out and sadly he has nothing. He asks again where we are (by now the rain is so hard it is difficult to hear the man talk) He says he will look and if he finds something he will come over in his own car and bring it. I return to my friend, my husband and her locked car.

Just as my sweet friend is about to wave the white flag and wants me to call the lock smith...
My new friend from the hotel wheels in. Yeah!  He has a tool in his hand to open the door, he's done this many times before working for a hotel. The raindrops are now as big as cats and the wind is howling around us. He and Don try once but must stop because of the wind and rain, he is soaking wet and cold. Once the rain calms down, they try again. Don is trying to shield him from the elements by holding an umbrella and light for him.

Bam! Finally, he's in the car!

As we hug him and thank him for the help. We tell him what a blessing he is today. His face lights up just a little. He asks if we are believers,  then goes on to share how he's been going to church with a couple friends lately, he feels the Lord pulling him closer. It's been a while.  He said, "and today has been an unusually dark day and for no reason"..  A big smile on his face now though. He knows what is happening, he knows where the doubt and fears are coming from.. 
Don tries to pay him for his time, of course he won't allow it.

I'm sure there are those who will think this is only coincidence but I know different. When I think of the things that transpired and how they all had to come together to this moment in time for us all to meet. We shared with him, we will be praying for him on his faith journey and not to be discouraged, God has a plan for his life.  Again, how he has blessed us tonight with his story and he can't stop thanking us for the encouragement we offer.
The rain is letting up, as we start back to our hotel I can't help but be amazed and excited at how God used us right there. Wow Lord, just wow..

Thank you Lord for Mario. Thank you for tapping on his hearts door again and drawing him close, for allowing us to share encouraging words with him and the opportunity to pray for him.
It was a good night.

Pie crusts cookies and twisted tales of childhood

In my minds eye, I can still see the flour and shortening on the kitchen table and the big flowered fiberglass bowl mama always used for mixing her pie crust. Her sister Lora, gave her that bowl, I believe. We were baking apple pie that day and I was very excited, not only because I loved pie but because it meant I got the leftover dough.
On the opposite side of the table from where she was working, mama placed a couple pieces of waxed paper with flour sprinkled generously over them. I patiently waited and watched as she carefully picked out all the leftover dough scraps and placed them in front of me. It was as if someone placed the "holy grail" in my hands.  A teacup with just enough sugar and a sprinkle of cinnamon, a tablespoon or two of soft butter and it was mine to do as I wished.
I remember her cautioning me to be careful with her rolling bottle before I began. Mama had this old  wine bottle that was a fixture in her kitchen and as prized as any fancy rolling pin. I can't remember her ever using anything else but that green bottle when baking. I don't think I ever knew where it came from or how it found its way into her kitchen, considering her distaste and complete abhorrence for alcohol.

I would roll, then cut out my pie crust cookies with an old Bama jelly glass. I remember thinking these were my own invention, probably not that original but this was where my love for baking began. Rolled thin to keep them crisp on the edge and soft in the middle. A smidge of butter applied with the back of a spoon. [Mama preferred I use a spoon as I was the only "leftie" in the household. Everyone took cover when I held a knife]  A little sprinkle of  sugar cinnamon and in the oven they went.

Carefully I removed them from the oven and magically brothers appeared!  Wait, what? I enjoyed being the one in charge of the cookies. I am the baby of the family and it seemed to me back then, I never got to do anything before they did and they always got to make decisions I could not. Later in life, I realized the decisions they made were almost always for my safety. My brothers paved the way for me, they wore mama and daddy down, creating smooth sailing for me as a teen. When cookies were baked however, I was the one in power.
I hear women complain about never baking pies these days because of the mess the pie crust makes. Mary Lou could toss out a crust in ten minutes, she never worried about the mess. Mama was meticulous about the kitchen being "clean" when I was a little girl. Now she was a messy person by nature-  newspaper in the floor by her seat on the couch, clothes fresh from the line across the "clothes" chair, things like that. Then, when I was ten years old she went to work full time and I'm not sure the house was ever completely clean again. She assigned chores to all three of us but it wasn't the same as her doing it.
I think I was about 16 before I realized my brother Steve (he's five years older) was the smart one. Yep. During school, we walked about a quarter mile home from the bus every afternoon, kicking cans plucked from the side of the road. Mama would call shortly after, making sure we all arrived home without incident. She would give instructions on what was to be done before she arrived home that evening. Steve would dutifully repeat instructions. Leisa, get the clothes off the clothesline and fold them, iron a shirt for daddy for work tomorrow. Do your homework, then feed the dog and set the table.
Crant, (he's four years older than I) cut the grass, weed the peas and dig up some potatoes for dinner.
Steve would start dinner and talk on the phone to his girlfriend. Apparently, Crant and I were slow on the uptake because we never questioned him. It was only much later when a huge smile came across Steve's face when questioned, we realized he was told to do all those things (with our help).  Even then, he would say "Mama, didn't you say "get it done?"  well, I got it done. It should come as no surprise, Steve has worked for himself for most of his adult life and he's still an excellent cook.
My other brother was more of a discoverer and explorer.  He had binoculars for watching critters and a microscope, does some taxidermy work and he paints beautifully. He loved the sciences and was always growing something in a jar or lid.
I once cut myself with a razor blade to give him blood to look at under his microscope. Mind you he didn't tell me to cut myself but he didn't stop me either. He had me sit right beside him with the blade to place directly on the slide. When mama found out she was a smidge perturbed and if I recall Crant lost his microscope privileges for a time. I was dared not to ever cut myself again for any reason. I think that was blown a little out of proportion, don't you think?  He also took me 30 feet up into the oak tree in the front yard. While he inched me down and mama seethed on the ground, he was trying to explain the fabulous view considering we lived on a big hill. Mama, you can see the crossroads from that perch, it's amazing and Leisa needed to see it. My mother was not impressed.
Those same brothers taught me to ride a bicycle, bait a hook, gave me my first Bible, protected me, read to me and toted me from the bed Saturday mornings wrapped in a quilt to watch Bugs Bunny.
We've stood side-by-side through death and difficult times as well as joys in our lives. As we get older I find our ages have equalized. I would not trade either of them for the world. Next time I see them, I'm taking them a piece of pie.

Life is hard but there's a Savior.

Someone once told me, remember on those hard days, it's only one day. A single period of 24 hours. If you can only get through that one day, you will slowly feel the blessings again.

The last year has been pretty tough. Love losses do that to you. The stages of grief are described by the Kübler-Ross model most popularly known as the five stages of grief. Though originally designed to aid terminally ill patients following diagnosis, they certainly apply to loss through physical death. The five stages are in order- denial, anger, bargaining, depression and acceptance. Most of us type A's sail right past denial to get to the anger and bargaining. I found myself quickly tap dance past denial and jump head long into anger over most of the past eleven months. I don't have to tell you I found this very surprising that I could not get past the anger. I pride myself on handling things. However, this time it was bigger than me, much bigger. I've spent a great deal of time in prayer begging God to free me from this pit. I've also spent a good deal of time cussing like a sailor, ranting, raving and thinking about why I would not pull some people from a burning house if I happened upon them. See, I told you I was angry. Our circle has been broken, Lord. That perfect circle of both my brothers children and mine, all healthy and happy- well it's broken. It will never be the same this side of heaven and that made my heart ache.
Then I remembered Lazarus. Well actually Jesus weeping over Lazarus. I think, thanks Lord, you could have reminded me of this story nine or ten months ago? Awww... there I go again. Jesus loved Lazarus greatly and was so distressed at his death, he wept even knowing he could resurrect him. Thinking about that is quite humbling to me. To know Jesus wept in his human form as we weep. Wow. Jesus raised Lazarus from the grave.

"I am the resurrection and the life. He who believes in me will live even though he dies and whoever lives and believes in me will never die" 

There are things in life I am uncertain about like turkey bacon (that's not real people, it's just not) but Jesus being who He says He is? No doubts about that. I was ten years old when I walked down the aisle of our little country church. I remember the conversations with mama & daddy and Crant over the previous week or two. I remember white knuckles on that pew when I could not stand there any longer on a Sunday in summer. God was calling and I was answering. I remember Brother T.H. Mize and his smile as I approached. I remember that prayer I prayed and the comfort I felt. It changed me.

There have been many blessings and many failures in my life. I have turned my back and drifted away from Him more times than I care to count but He is always waiting for me.
I once was quite insulted by someone I love, she went on..  "I understand you believe what you believe because your parents believed the same" .. whoa girl!
Of how wrong you were, I know God is the beginning and the end, the alpha and the omega, Jesus is my Savior because he died and rose again for my transgressions, not because someone told me what to think. Do you even know me? 

You know why? Because I have experienced Gods grace in my life, His power and His forgiveness. I by all accounts should not still be here. Once I lay in a bed of my own blood after two surgeries, while they pumped more blood to veins in my legs and arms, as staff frantically worked to get me to surgery to stop the ruptured artery, the hospital chaplain praying over me as they rolled me down the hall. The surgeon pausing for a brief moment in the operating room to circle me with nurses and anesthetists to pray over me once again.
(Give me a praying, believing surgeon every time) 

I have felt the peace that passes all understanding and the assurance all would be fine. I trusted and He delivered. He always does.

Still, healing doesn't always come as we want. Sometimes healing comes through death. 

Cari would have been 40 today although her spirit and laughter said she was more like 25. She was very loved and is missed daily. She has four amazing children who undeniably look like her. Today is also Mama and Daddy's anniversary and I am reminded how long they have been gone. Although these losses are painful, I will see them again. There will be no pain, no fear, no tears in our eternal home. As a child I would hear older relatives say, "even so Lord come" and I didn't understand why but now I do. Today I woke with a familiar memory of Cari as a little girl in my car with her older sister and my daughter off to dance class- giggling and chattering. She was barely two. Thank you Lord. Today I will think of all the wonderful times and how blessed we were to have had all three of them in our lives. Life can be very painful but also amazing, filled with grace and joy, and the love of Jesus. If you respond to His call, you are never alone.

I will admit I have shed some tears but don't be sad for me. The anger is gone, my heart has been softened, I'm working on my mouth and I have been able to forgive. I skipped right over bargaining and depression too. My God is the greatest.

I will see Cari, Mama and Daddy again. How about you? Even so Lord, come.

Simple childhoods. Instagram will wait.

I start most Monday mornings working away from home but this week got shuffled a little and I"m sitting in my office today getting some much needed work done. The sky is blue and there are hints of Fall in the air. In the south this only means crusty brown leaves are falling from the trees and the temperature may only reach the mid 70s today but I will take it.
Most of my adult life I've worked, sometime working two jobs. I worked in the service industry with a Jazzercise franchise for 25 years. Now I work a job from home. Working from home is a much misunderstood position.. some see it as no work at all while others question the legitimacy of it being a way to actually earn money. Still others embrace it .. I am one of those "embracers" and I love our company, esbe designs by Sara Blaine.[Here's my web address if you want to check it out.  http://www.esbedesigns.com/ShopLeisa
Observation #1, I've been given a great opportunity and I'm quite thankful for it. It allows me to earn and be home when it's required. I get to choose when and how much I work. I think that may be another blog post.

I grew up with parents of the depression as did many of my peers. Being a child of the depression brought with it a strong desire to be self-sufficient, not only for daddy but mama as well.
We never heard the word "can't" in our home. When something difficult or life altering happened, as it often does, the only thing I heard from mama and daddy was "we will figure this out."
What makes this significant is the time I grew up in, the sixties and early seventies. Women weren't always valued in the way men were. My mama left the work force as a young wife to have her children. Mama didn't sit much,  always busy, always moving, always on to the next project or task.
She worked for the dept of revenue during "tag season" for extra Christmas money.
[For those too young to remember, car tags were always purchased in the Fall, therefore the Dept. of Revenue always needed temps in September to handle the onslaught.] Getting a taste of the working world again after having three children, must have lit a fire in her because by the time I was 10 years old mama had decided to go back to work, full time. Her skills were already sharp from the seasonal work and she applied and went to The Revenue dept in Birmingham first. Later she moved to Bessemer where she remained until retirement.  My mother had some mad office skills, typing 140 words a minute while casually telling you about her afternoon. Sadly, I did not inherit her complete set of office skills. Observation #2, Self-esteem was high in a home where you were encouraged to be passionate and be willing to do the work. No matter what work it is, do it well.

As a child, daddy was always trying to find things to occupy me (I can't imagine why) He worked at Hayes International designing and building airplanes. His crew built the giant arms that held the Gemini crafts too, precursors to the Apollo flights. All I knew was he came home with some massive pieces of cardboard hanging out of the back of his truck. Down below the old oak tree that held our rope swing was a small stand of pines, seasonally leaving their needles covering the ground. Every Fall once the trees dropped their needles we hit the hillside armed with those monster pieces of cardboard. We would spend a fabulous and exhausted day sliding down the hill.
Observation #3 Why did my mother allow this to happen? Was she not concerned I would be hurt? There were no helmets, knee pads or protective clothing. I believe I'm more than a little miffed she wasn't more concerned.  When you hit the bank of blackberry bushes and underbrush going into the woods, you stopped. Amazing, considering we can't let our children ride a bike today without covering them head-to-toe in bubble wrap.
 I was about nine when we had an unusually warm December, it was 80 degrees outside. We slid down that hill all day long on Christmas Eve, from morning until it was almost dark. Finally, daddy had to come carry me up the hill to the house as my legs no longer worked.
Observation #4, Do children play until exhaustion outside these days? Do they get free play time? Or are they scheduled like adults?

During the summer months my brothers both worked when they were old enough.. My oldest brother was running a roofing crew at age 15, long before he could even drive. He had to be dropped off on the job by mama or daddy or another adult drove him around. My other brother a year younger worked alongside him.
When I was in the 8th grade someone said something to me at school about our being poor. ?? What?
I went straight to daddy and his response in between laughter was "Is there anything you need, baby? Why are you letting this girl determine who you are?" Well, that was the end of the discussion and although that young lady later became a friend, I never gave her statement credence again.
If you asked either of my brothers or myself what kind of childhood we had, we would all say "wonderful."  We never went without a meal although, there were many nights of beans and cornbread. Our family gardened, daddy raised hogs and we shared with extended family as they did with us. Our Uncle Lattie had chickens, so there were always fresh eggs. He had fruit trees and mama made perserves. Another Uncle had cattle and he shared his beef with us, daddy shared his homemade sausage, bacon and pork shoulders he cured in the old smoke house out back.  Our clothing was mended and we kept wearing it until we were pushing out the trouser legs and shirt sleeves. Our first playmates and friends were cousins and there were many of them. Sunday afternoons with a zillion kids running all around my mamaws little house. That's what I remember.

Final Observation, We were very blessed to grow up in that time and place. It taught me if I desire something then go get it and my family always has my back.
No one owes you anything in life and no, not everyone is going to like you. Yes, by some standards we may have been poor but it sure didn't feel like it. It takes very little to make me happy these days which brings me to my original point.

Children thrive in plainness. Simplicity. Doesn't that sound better then over-scheduled, run-from-one-place-to-another living? Put down your smart phone, Instagram will wait. Your child will not. Let that soak in, your child will NOT wait. You will look up one day, like I have and your oldest is forty-two. I remember those days of reading, playing, talking and laughing. Things were simple then and I'm so glad I didn't miss it. 

A Servants heart.

I had a birthday recently and I can't consider my own day without thinking of my parents. Some days I miss them terribly and some, I laugh out loud considering the things either one said or did. Mostly, I am grateful I belonged to them.

As the only girl in a house of brothers, some of my favorite memories are those of my mother and I, off alone on some adventure. Shopping trips to downtown Birmingham were a Saturday pass time from the time I could keep up with my mothers long walking stride. I stayed close on mama's heels as she scoured Burger Phillips, Blachs, Yieldings and Lovemans department stores, taking note of all the best buys. I thought we were only window shopping but it wasn't until I was a older I realized mama was checking prices and comparing. She would come back later and purchase items on sale. She had favorite salespeople everywhere we went and I loved that they knew her by name. [I'm not so sure daddy felt the same]
There were these awesome elevators at Burger Phillips, the cage type with the attendant that wound the door open manually and thanked you for coming to the store. I can still see the doors spring open in the girls dept where Mrs Suddeth [My favorite saleslady] magically had dresses waiting for me to try on. I tried on everything Mrs Suddeth pulled. Then when the price was reduced just enough, she pulled them from the floor and called mama. A couple days later mama came home with a few new dresses for me. Occasionally on our trips there was extra money to eat out. Joy Young or Britlings Cafeteria were my favorites but most often it was off to the park for a picnic lunch.

I remember one of those trips in early summer. I was dressed in a pair of dark blue shorts and a blue gingham checked button up blouse with a peter pan collar and pearly white buttons. White socks in little black T-strap shoes with my toes bumping the ends.
I remember finding the perfect bench and eating lunch together for a mid-day break.  Even back then, when I was very young I knew my mother had a flair for making you feel special, as if you were the only person she could see. I had no idea it was actually a gift from God, a servants heart. Mama had a way of making anyone feel special and she didn't need much to achieve it. That's how it is with gifts you know? God gives us all gifts and all we need do is be a willing participant.

Philippians Chapter 2 says, "Let nothing be done through strife or vainglory; but in lowliness of mind let each esteem others better than themselves. Look not every man on his own things, but every man also in the things of others. Let this mind be in you, which was also in Christ Jesus."

The night before our adventures mama shucked out ice trays and placed the ice in a large paper grocery bag. You would be amazed how long that ice lasted in that paper bag, in the trunk. The next morning she placed the bag in a metal pail in the trunk of the car, alongside a quart jar full of fresh tea and two jelly glasses. They lay padded with a bath towel that smelled of sunshine, in her woven willow clothes basket. In another paper lunch bag were two sandwiches, two pickle spears, each carefully wrapped in waxed paper. [She also harbored a few Nabisco cookies, hidden away from me for a treat after I ate my sandwich] We sat on a park bench in the shade and talked of dresses, shoes and upcoming trips to Gulf Breeze to see her sister and family. She told me about the surrounding buildings and tales of her childhood and later when she married daddy and they lived in an apartment on the Southside of the city. I believe those lunches and talks did as much for my mother as they did for me. Her hazel eyes sparkled, her auburn hair lilted around her face, as she listened attentively to me share my thoughts. We planned summer days, trips to the beach and wardrobes, talked of flowers outside my bedroom and painting my walls again.My mothers fashion style was very classic. She wore navy blue and crisp white, fitted jackets, blouses with three-quarter length sleeves and slacks she altered by hand, to give her a better fit.
By today's standard mama didn't have much but what she had was carefully chosen quality items she lovingly cared for to make them last for years. Her closet held only a few well chosen dresses for church and I certainly know where my love for shoes came from. I still have the old blue print dress she wore for more than ten years. How is it, six years after her death a dress and pair of slacks still smell like her? I don't know how but it does. Some days I lift the leg of those trousers neatly tucked away in my closet and inhale deeply. For a moment, it's almost like she is here again sharing her sage advice.
Despite all the window shopping, we didn't have much money and mama made her purchases count. I never heard her complain or lament over wearing that old dress each year on Easter Sunday. She washed it by hand in the kitchen sink, hung to dry in the sun and gently pressed it making sure not to snag or damage it.
We sat on the fourth row on the far right in that little country church, my brothers and I, next to mama and daddy. Me in my new dress carefully chosen for fit, ability to alter later and perfectly discounted price. Beside me, my mother in her blue dress with shades of green and golden yellow swirled across the waistline, Bible in her lap, smile on her face, a side eye on her children-always. I do not think anything made mama happier than all of us together on that pew. Today my heart is full with memories of her and her gifts.
In February she would have been 93. Yes, I miss her often but today, I am filled only with thankfulness I was her shopping buddy, friend and daughter.

I hope there's a place to fish in Heaven

Fathers day is upon us again and not only celebrating our sons and my husband as fathers but thinking of my daddy. Daddy was only 53 when he died and I was 19 . It seems impossible that I haven't spoke with or hugged him in forty years but I have the sweetest memories of what he taught me in those 19 years. This is one of the last pictures taken of him, Fall '77.

Thaddis Warren, or "Fat" as he was most often called was one of eight children, in a home loaded with older brothers. When he reached that awkward stage as a 10 or 11 yr old, his brothers were there to lend a hand with a nickname. Well, be careful what you allow, because my daddy introduced himself as Fat Hicks my entire life. He didn't give it a single thought and certainly wasn't offended.

Daddy fished, hunted, lay brick, did electrical, plumbing, carpentry, raised animals, gardens, his children and made a mean pancake.  He had the mind of an engineer. He had a dry sense of humor. If you didn't know him well, you weren't sure if he was kidding or scolding you but when he started laughing it became evident.

[Uncle Fred holding a horse shoe over daddy's head, mama just to his side over his shoulder]

I never saw a man who loved fishing as much as my daddy. He went fishing on Friday but if you asked him on Sunday if he had been lately- he would say no.
I can still hear the rattle of rods and reels against the side of the aluminum boat as it bounced up the hill after a quick early morning fishing trip. He would pop in the door grabbing his fresh ironed shirt off the doorknob (where I left it), quickly bath, shave and head to work. He had risen before 4 am to see "if anything is biting" while we all slept.
Daddy didn't need much sleep. He ran most days on 4-5 hours, while mama needed her full 8 hours. Our freezer remained full of freshly cleaned fish though. Daddy was a serious fish cook as well. He made a fish cooker to use outside, like a grill. He made several prototypes until he finally settled on a "V" shape, inverted design which he said kept the oil just at the right temperature to cook evenly. He made the best hush puppies I've ever tasted. My brother Steve can make them just like he did too.

Daddy was slow to anger but if you made him mad, you better look out. He spanked me with a belt only twice in my life. His preferred method of torture was talking to you. Awe man.. just spank me already please, because when he talked to me I felt maybe 2 inches high- it wrecked me to disappoint him. (plus, I knew he was right and I was wrong)
Our childhood was spent about a quarter mile from Black Creek off the Warrior River. Often times my brothers and I would hike behind our house through the woods to the creek. We would wade in the streams leading to the creek and play in the woods. The rule was, you must get daddy's permission to go all the way to the creek. Otherwise, you were to remain in ear shot. Well, this particular day while wandering and having a great time, we noticed the sun was beginning to wane. Oops, we may be in a heap of trouble. We hear daddy calling faintly in the distance.
We pick up the pace and the calling is getting louder and he sounds a smidge agitated. Crant throws me on his back, he and Steve begin to jog up through the woods toward home. I was maybe 8/ which made Steve and Crant, 14 and 13. As we top the hill and look across the open pasture behind the house, there stands daddy- feet apart, his wide shoulders squared toward us. He looked 7 feet tall to me. You know the stance I mean, just locked into that spot as if a mountain could not have moved him. He is NOT smiling, hands on hips just staring at us on the horizon.
Steve being the oldest, says "be quiet and let me do the talking." I don't remember what Steve said but I do remember getting my behind torn up with a belt, right there in the edge of the yard. Whatever he said, it didn't work but we never did that again.

My daddy taught me to cook those pancakes. When we fished and I popped that worm in half and baited my hook, he beamed. He taught me about being dependable, honorable and acting with integrity. When I disappointed him, he showed unconditional love and forgiveness. I learned humor helps you on hard days and there's nothing I can't do if I put my whole heart into it. He loved his children fiercely, he provided a godly example for us to follow and he was humble enough to ask for forgiveness if he felt he wronged me.
On this Fathers day I still miss him but my heart is full of sweet memories. I had him only 19 years but the lessons he taught and the love he shared are with me even today. Amazing.

Men are from Mars and women should be at a Marriott

I've waited a long time for this remodel, for the stone flooring to come up and hardwood to go down. Fourteen years of travertine stone on the kitchen floor, counters and I hate it. I was mesmerized by the look of stone as I stood in that warehouse perusing the slabs and squares. It's easy to get caught up in the beauty of movement of all the stone. It IS beautiful. Honed, polished, natural? "Look at all the movement in this slab" they say. There's an earthy feel to it. You are now one with the universe.

 

 

By all means, don't let me spoil your love for stone and all that universe love it has to offer you but wow.. never again.  It's too much upkeep for me. 

Hardwoods have always been my favorite floor surface. I grew up on pine floors requiring regular waxing. Mama kept those floors sparkling and she buffed them to a luster [as I grew older, I stood at the helm of the buffer.] When finished you donned a clean pair of socks and slid from one end of the house to the other.. from my brothers bedroom all the way through to the dining room. Inevitably someone did a face plant on the wall but nobody cared, it was like you were flying. Mama sat back on the couch with her book and watched, warning us she was too tired to make an emergency room run tonight. We would have to stop the bleeding and wait until morning. [She wasn't kidding]

We came home to a refrigerator water line busted in December and damaged floors. Awe.. Don now knew it was time to tackle the job. Truly, my husband doesn't give me too much grief because he witnessed the damage and he knows I'm always willing to do the work with him. I am the chief painter, cabinet re-finisher, seamstress, drapery maker and get-the-grub-out girl. How can you argue when you have good help, right?
In my head I had a plan of how this remodel would go. Take up all the stone, access the overall plan and make any needed changes. We have a few cabinets to move and re-purpose and we are adding a window seat. Days one through five went pretty well. I helped carry out some of the stone but I have asthma and eventually had to get out of the stone and mortar dust. I was wheezing like a big dog.
Then I left one day. (huge mistake on my part)
When I returned, cabinets were all over the living room. I mean everywhere. Cabinets that didn't need to be moved are out. ??? Why did this happen? I should have known, its the way he works. I can see the vision that's quietly been waiting in my head for the last few years. Not Don, he needed to clear the room to see it.

I'm learning to live in the mess. The tools in the laundry room, cabinets in the living room, the huge table saws in the dining room, dust 2" thick covering everything. Over the last 38 years I've learned another thing- I can say one thing and "Mars man" hears something else entirely.
Example: (Me) "The range, sink and dishwasher are less than 6 feet apart. If we shorten the island and move the range to the far wall, it will enlarge my work triangle and allow more room to cook and prep.
(what Mars man hears) So you don't want to keep this stove? I love this stove and I'm not sure it will fit over there. You aren't going to like the stove on the far wall. You have to walk across the room to cook. When are we going to the beach?
Focus Mars man, focus. This intelligent man and I, may very well have a communication problem.
Right now I see a few options but the best involves me moving where there's room service until the work is completed.

Our conversations go something like this.
[Don] I'll measure for backsplash and you go pick it out.
[Me] How much do I have to spend per foot?
[Don] Get whatever you want. It's your kitchen.
[Me] I go through 9000 different backsplash options at two different warehouses, over two days. I am exhausted and limestone, glass, subway, honed, geometric tiles running through my head. I finally find the perfect combination of our tastes. I spend another four hours online searching for the best price, I use his contractor discount, I negotiate it down another .74 cents a sq. foot. I'm relieved and satisfied with the choice. Then I share my findings with my "Mars man" ...
[Don] Could you not have found something less expensive?
[Me] sigh...
(It's possible years from now someone may find the bones of an aged man in a freshly poured concrete patio) For the love of all that's good, why can't we speak the same language?

I chose to add a window seat to shift the table and create more space and I just love window seats. I will find a whimsical and sturdy fabric to cover my seat cushion. I can hardly contain my excitement. Then, we actually had this conversation, no lie.
[Me] Do you want me to mark the spot where the light fixture goes over the table? [Don] I'm not moving the light fixture. [Me] Yes dear, we discussed this back during the planning stage, at length. (He is looking at me as if I pulled this from the deep, dark recesses of my mind or either I am a "pod" person he's never met)
[Don] But the light fixture is lined up on the center of the window on the driveway end of the house.
[Me] Seriously? Precious Mars man, you can't leave the hanging chandelier over the backs of your dining family and no light over the table? You can't buddy. [Don] I'm not moving the light. [Me] Yes dear, I love you but we must move the light.
At this point, he is no longer listening. That' what "Mars men" do when they do not hear what they want. They walk away. So, these days I choose my battles wisely and because I indeed love this man, I walk away. (for now)

Many years ago I figured out his operating procedure (brain), anytime we had a project once we finished the discussion/rough draft or design, I wrote it all down and had him initial it. Yep, in writing. I didn't do it to prove anything but to hopefully cut down on the battles as I thought about how I would kill him as he said things like "we never discussed this" or "I don't know what you are talking about." Aha! I would pull out my signed and initialed copy of the agreement. He would smile and get to work.

I know this Mars man better than he knows himself. He's been my partner for 38 married years.
He was a blind date you know? Yes. My friend Cindy introduced us. "I have this guy you need to meet. He's crazy and you will love him."  (That's probably another blog post, how God worked this out)
I know how he feels about politics, faith and family. I can read his face like a book and know when he doesn't know what to say or how to respond. I know when he's hurting and disappointed. He's hard-headed, far from perfect (as am I), has to see something for it to be true and tunes me out when he doesn't want to discuss something. He's also a perfectionist, his brain is constantly thinking about how to save/reuse/restore something, he can't throw anything away and he's a thinker by nature. He's sitting back taking it all in while I'm actively throwing out ideas .. when my mind is racing or I'm falling apart: He is my "steady Eddie."

I suppose that's why I'm not sleeping at the Marriott (yet.)

There will be Joy again soon.

Yes, there will always be a void where you stood.  No one can fill your shoes although all your granddaughters near me, help tremendously.
It's hard this year, mama. I imagine your greeting her with open arms and offering her a glass of tea. (Wouldn't it be a hoot to find out heaven is a southern place and there flows "tea," milk and honey)

When I was a little girl and I would be upset about something, you would brush my hair from my eyes, wipe my tears and say "wipe those tears and let's decide what you need to do." Then you would give me something to laugh out loud about. When I was older and I felt my heart was breaking, your answer changed because you knew I could handle it. "I'm sorry you are hurting, baby. Life is full of disappointments but it's also full of joy" that's what you always said.
Well mama, today without you here to prompt me but after a lifetime of teaching me well, I am looking for the joy. I remember your love and care and although it may bring a few tears, it will also provide great joy.

Mothers days you ran from before day break until sunset because it was memorial at church, Liberty Baptist. You had food to cook for pot luck at the church, flowers to prepare to place on the graves of your loved ones gone on before you. Early, you had the boys fill the car with flowers and it was brimming from stem to stern. There was only room for one to ride with you and help put them all out. I think, likely you were thinking of your mother, she died when you were only five.

I remember the smell of my room, the cool white eyelet bed cover you painstakingly mended when little worn spots appeared, then you freshened it with a gentle washing, ironed every crease and ruffle. You and I would just stand and look at it when you were finished as if it were a jewel in a crown. You would say something about "things were just things" but it does look pretty doesn't it?
For one who lost your mother so young, you mothered very well. But you had many mothers didn't you? Aunt Jim, Aunt Lura and Aunt Ola. There was also Maggie who wasn't related to us but lived down the road a bit. She helped mother you as well with stories and tales of her own children. You cared for her in her last days, even though she wasn't your mother. I remember she was always cold in that nursing home and you bought her a toboggan and she wore it all the time. Until she took her last breath. You mothered her too.

Today I can hear the sounds in my head of your Sunbeam going, the smell of  the iron as I press a shirt for daddy before church. The sounds of laughter and joy as the relatives pour into the fellowship hall one by one, for a meal together. All the amazing food we shared, hugs and love.
Today I can remember you with joy and that is my prayer for others who aren't quite there yet. One day, there will be joy again.
Thank you Jesus for giving me my mama. She was indeed a jewel.

... but I've got my pistol?!

It's these spring mornings when I most often think of my mother. She loved spring like a dog loves a bone. She started checking all her plants, uncovering her Irises feet and could hardly wait to get her work clothes on and her hands in the dirt.
When we were kids, when she would let them, my brothers would cut the grass. Now mind you, this wasn't a little square of sod in a "city" yard. We had about two and half acres and there was a huge hill in front about the size of a football field. The kind of yard you must go side-to-side to cut because it's too steep to go up and down. Mama was the lawn mower purchaser most of my life, in her later years she went to key start models.  She wasn't crazy about waiting for someone to get there to start her mower.  Probably well into her sixties and because she wasn't blessed with great physical strength, she would call one of us to come over and crank her lawn mower. When it was my turn, she always commented "I don't know how you are that strong" (I got that from the Hicks side of the family by the way)  I would finish my iced tea (made fresh at 6 a.m.) and whatever she had prepared for my breakfast) and head into my own day.
Mama always remembered her children's food preferences. If Steve was coming, it was piping hot coffee and if she had any ham or sausage on hand she made sure he had plenty. If it was Crant, there was gravy made for biscuit sopping. For me, she made iced tea and "toasted in the oven, open face cheese toast" my favorite.
To say my mama was independent was laughable. I often marvel at how ahead of her time she was and lest I forget, my daddy who was quite comfortable in his manhood and not threatened by her drive, tenacity and ambition. He was the one who always told me, "You are smart and can do whatever you want in life"... "There is nothing holding you back."  (When if he had his druthers would probably have chosen for mama to remain at home and not work outside the home.) A choice I'm sure he knew was futile to discuss.

Mama was only fifty-two when daddy died. Now as I sit facing my sixtieth birthday soon, I realize how young she actually was. Daddy and the boys hunted all my life, guns were a part of our home, as they were about every other home as well. Now that mama was alone, she always made sure she had her 38 with her everywhere she went outside the community.  So here is my mama, gray-haired and slender built, slightly rounding shoulders from osteoporosis with this long-barrel 38 tucked under her seat and she wasn't afraid to use it.
She would long to see her sister who lived in Pensacola and I would get a late night call, "I'm heading to Pensacola in the morning, I need to see my sister" "I've got my 38, I'll call you when I get there".. Of course there were no cell phones then. We all had our reservations about her traveling alone but.. what do you do? That's just who she was. Arguing would have been a complete waste of time and energy, even though she would have nodded agreeably, hugged you because she appreciated the concern but literally would have laughed in your face. If you offered to go with her and she didn't want company, she would kindly decline you.
Her mother died when she was five and her sister six, she lived out her childhood with her daddy, who she loved fiercely. She walked to the creek and hauled water as a five year old, walked the two miles to church every Sunday, tidied dirt floors when they lived in a tent for a while and had cared for herself all her life. Driving 300 miles to see her sister? Calm down people, the car is doing most of the work, she would say.
So, on this spring day it's my "snuggle Thad day." I get baby snuggles from a sweet baby named after my daddy and a precocious little girl who loves to wear "ip" stick and go to the store for stickers.
I will teach them all how to uncover the Iris feet to assure us of more blooms. We will smell the sweet shrubs that came from mama and daddy's yard, watch the birds at my feeders and laugh. We will laugh alot. One of the boys and I are planting multi-colored carrots this year and we will take walks and have our hands in the dirt. We will hold hands, read books and I hope one day they will remember all these things from childhood fondly.
They are smart, funny and strong like their Grandaddy Hicks, Uncles Crant & Steve and their Honey. My brother still has that 38 long barrel and I'm betting one day it's passed down to a grandchild who will carry it on long trips of their hearts desire, alone. Because that's who they are too.

The Master of muddy lakes.

It's a rainy day, a lone bird calls through the trees, there's lots to do but I'm thinking some of it may not happen. The trees are bare of leaves, the grass is brown and today, the lake is very muddy. Rain fell hard most of the night and more is promised today. I like sunshine. I guess I'm a true southern girl, I thrive on sunshine and heat. Intense, a-little-sweat-on-your-brow heat. I love it!
That muddy lake though, I watch the water trickle in from the bank. The surface is smooth and all the messy, nasty mud is swirling underneath, settling little by little, becoming a permanent part of the lake. 

There are days where everything is very clear to me- my direction, projects and goals, plans for the future. God-willing as my mama used to say. She prefaced everything she said with that statement. "God willing and if I live til spring" It's biblical you know? God doesn't want us worrying about the future. 

From Matthew 6:25-34

25 “Therefore I tell you, do not be anxious about your life, what you will eat or what you will drink, nor about your body, what you will put on. Is not life more than food, and the body more than clothing? 26 Look at the birds of the air: they neither sow nor reap nor gather into barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not of more value than they?27 And which of you by being anxious can add a single hour to his span of life?[a] 28 And why are you anxious about clothing? Consider the lilies of the field, how they grow: they neither toil nor spin, 29 yet I tell you, even Solomon in all his glory was not arrayed like one of these. 30 But if God so clothes the grass of the field, which today is alive and tomorrow is thrown into the oven, will he not much more clothe you, O you of little faith? 31 Therefore do not be anxious, saying, ‘What shall we eat?’ or ‘What shall we drink?’ or ‘What shall we wear?’ 32 For the Gentiles seek after all these things, and your heavenly Father knows that you need them all. 33 But seek first the kingdom of God and his righteousness, and all these things will be added to you.

34 “Therefore do not be anxious about tomorrow, for tomorrow will be anxious for itself. Sufficient for the day is its own trouble.

There are days when life is as messy and muddy as our lake is today.  It's been a difficult season of life lately. There's been life changes, new plans, health concerns, growing pains and intense losses to grieve. Some are still very fresh. There have been tears and restless nights.  

You know who isn't phased by muddy water?  Ducks. They hurry into the lake like a second grader on a field trip in spring.. with only the anticipation of  the water. They flutter their wings, tirelessly squawk at each other, chase each other around, preen their feathers and waddle out. They are totally spent from the experience but content as they rest on the bank together. 

In this season, I have retreated somewhat to spend more time in prayer and meditation, I'm finding my balance. I breathe in God's Word daily. I'm still learning, He continues to show me more. You know what I've learned? My God is the master of muddy lakes. He calms my fear, my doubts and gives me peace where pain dwells.  

I look at my life some days and see total chaos, not much direction and endless questions... God sees a plan, His complete plan for me. It has included some simplifying of life and I'm okay with that. (more on that subject later) And the trials? they become part of who I am just as the mud becomes part of the lake. Experience always shapes who we are. It changes us in ways we could never have imagined. This pain did not come from God but He will use it. 
So, for today, I may not get much done but I'm healing and growing in faith. I am content today to breathe and know without a shadow of a doubt, my God is with me.  

There will always be muddy waters in life but it's okay, because I know the Master of those waters.