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.