I Packed for Three Weeks.

Looking back on my childhood I realize I was probably what would now be considered ADHD. I bounced off the walls most days, talked incessantly and had a million things flying through my head at once. I had good organizational skills though, even as a child. My mother loved it when I organized her kitchen cabinets or her closet.  I may have been 9 or 10 at the time but I could clean those cabinets up in record time. 

Sadly for mama & daddy, as a child once the word "vacation" was mentioned at the dinner table, I was all in. Where are we going? How long are we there? When do we leave?  I'm sure mama and daddy held off as long as possible discussing in front of me. I am the youngest of three and I'm not sure how my brothers stayed so calm after the announcement. I was tripping over myself getting ready. Mama would just smile and daddy would assure me I had plenty of time to pack, it would be a little while yet. 

Daddy would caution "it's another three weeks baby". I questioned his sobriety at this point. 
I had this little suitcase not much bigger than a cereal box and I slammed the thing full of toys, little books and a couple stuffed animals. Oh, and my swimsuit. Only the bare necessities. How are they all so calm? We are going to the beach soon! May I take a Childcraft for bedtime stories? Daddy said we were NOT moving to the beach and the Childcraft was too much. Mama would study daddy for a minute, knowing she would put my favorite Volume 3 childcraft in her bag where we could read at night. 
Childcraft were a ritual at our home before google ever existed. I must have read those volumes a million times, studied the educational ones, made what would probably be considered "diy" projects in the craft ones. My brother Crant would help me with more complicated things like games. We would create the games described from empty cereal boxes, gem clips and tape. I insisted on coloring and decorating them and we would play those simple games for weeks. 

By the time vacation arrived I had repacked that bag about two dozen times. I was nothing if not efficient. It had become a daily ritual, a habit, taking something out and putting something else in. Still not a single change of clothing or underclothes, no shoes-only the single pair of sandals I wore all summer. 
My mama on the other hand packed all my necessary clothing in her bag. She carried sunscreen and a spare pair of glasses for herself. There was a paper lunch bag with aspirin, bandages, neosporin and kaopectate. Phone numbers for doctors were jotted down on an old envelope in case of emergency. Mama was always well prepared. 
The day we left I was bouncing off the walls while daddy loaded the car early with the help of my oldest brother.  

I am still amazed they did not sedate me for the trip because I'm sure I nearly drove them insane. About 20 miles from  home I started asking if we were there yet. Are we close now mama? What about now? My middle brother would get me involved in a puzzle or game. 
Those trips hold the most cherished memories. We either went to my Aunt and Uncle's home in Gulf Breeze or stayed at these little beaches cottages on Pensacola beach.
The cottages were pastel colored with screen porches and slanted roofs. They weren't much more than a hotel room w/a kitchen, you parked your car underneath your unit. They looked like pure heaven to me. The five of  us shared one unit w/me or one of the boys sleeping on a pallet on the floor. They were on stilts, set at an angle on the sand to accommodate each unit a beach view, just over the dunes. There was a huge hand built playground out back on the way to the pool. There were these life size replicas of a train and a ship just sitting in the sand for our imaginations and bare feet to traverse. You could go into the belly of that ship and climb the ladder to the top and be a pirate. The ship was my favorite. I would love to have an old photo of those cottages, they are sadly long gone. 

What's most important about our beach trips are the memories made with all five of us together. The cottages sat in a row, maybe eight or so of them, perpendicular to the road with that small beach view. We walked the beach at night with daddy while mama sat back and watched the fun from her towel. Later we would be on the little screen porch talking and going through our shells. Some trips daddy would borrow an old hand crank ice cream freezer where we could enjoy a bowl of ice cream. Because my brothers were older, sometime they would sleep on the screen porch if the nights were mild, on a pallet.
Crant would slip in just at daylight and wake me to take me out to the sand, still in my pajamas to watch the sun come up and watch for dolphin playing close to shore. The water was like glass barely making a sound as it washed ashore. We rolled my pajama legs up and I stood at waters edge letting it bathe my feet in salty warmth. 
I enjoyed walks on the beach with daddy. Strangely sometime he wore shoes. Daddy did not like the feeling of sand between his toes like most of us. I remember looking down on those wingtip dress shoes, so out of place. He hung on as long he he could manage, eventually walking with me in one hand, shoes and socks in the other.
How could those days be so far behind us? Those days were the closest to heaven on earth we will ever know, I think. 

Before we left for home I begged daddy to get boxes from Jitney Jungle and take sand home for my sandbox. I wanted Pensacola beach sand, not just regular old sand. I was sentimental even as a child. If we had room he would add a box or two to the trunk, sitting the back end of our car down from the added weight. God bless him, he indulged his little girl every chance he got within reason. 

Vacations were never dull with three children. There was the occasional "strange odor" stinging our nostrils as the ride home got underway. You know, the odor of something dead! Mama would question if daddy tied his fishing clothes up well in the bag.. I would look over at Crant as he mouthed silently, "it" got out. Oh no! He and I would begin checking every little nook and cranny we could get our hand into to no avail. 
It didn't take mama long to realize what had happened, daddy just chuckling under his breath.
Soon, from the front seat "what was it son?" Just a little sand crab in a cup mama, now dead somewhere in the car we presumed. You can't imagine how that tiny thing permeated the entire car. 
Daddy would find a nice spot to pull off the road and all three kids unloaded from the back seat while he searched for his now deceased sand crab. I can see daddy standing there w/his arm resting on the top of the car. He must have been ready to choke my brother but he waited quietly. Slight amusement came and went from mama's face, which totally confused me as a child. Steve had to explain it to me. 
Once he found it, there was a quick goodbye and we were on our way home again. For a couple weeks after, the smell lingered in the car. I always thought the car still smelled like vacation. I'm not sure mama felt the same. 

Those family vacations were such a metaphor for our life. The dawn on the beach and it's ethereal warmth, filling us with peace. The unrelenting grains of sand that work their way into everything- irritating and lingering like life's problems and disappoints, but still holding value as lessons are learned. The timeless feeling of those days long gone laughing & playing with my brothers as mama and daddy watched. Not the least of which, visiting family there. I've said it before and it's so true, my mother was never more at ease than when she was with her sister.

As we rolled back in close to home, topping the last rise coming back into town daddy would quietly say "welcome back to God's country." As a child, I didn't understand. 

Our rural, humble home was where their hearts lay. The place that brought them both complete contentment and peace. 

I am thankful for the memories of those days, long gone. Grateful for the lessons learned and the time with family most of all. Yes as daddy said, we were indeed richly blessed. 

It's how life is now. Warning: End of year ramblings.

It's been a really long time since I posted on the blog. It's been a hard couple of years in our world. God never said life would be easy but he promised we would not be alone.
I needed to step away and concentrate on restoration, family and good health. I'm recovering now from a root tear of my meniscus. Just call me Grace. I tell myself I've got to stop playing so hard, I'm too old for it. But I know me, I won't listen. 

Just a few "After Christmas" thoughts today. 

First, Let them hug you, as much as they (we) need to. Over and over if necessary. Let us touch your face and rub our hand on your back, pat you and lean in to kiss your cheek. Let us feel the scent of you near us. We know your grown, we know you don't really need our hugs. But I hear my mothers words in my head, "but everything isn't always about you." Yes, she said that quite often. Not to be cruel of course but to allow us to learn that life isn't always about us. I am thankful for that lesson. I fear we are missing some of those great lessons today. No our parents weren't perfect but I believe they were more aware of others and the needs of others. They were quite unselfish. 
You are grown raising your own family and life is busy. It's hard to answer a phone call, a text .. you will do it later. One day later will not come, that person you gleaned wisdom from your entire life, the one you depended on will no longer be here. Then, I promise, you will wonder if you did enough. Did I love them enough? Did I care for them properly? Did I honor them as God told me to? I speak from experience.. I older I get the more I miss my mother.

Take the time please. Quit your complaining and do it.

Christmas has been wonderful this year. A couple years back my brothers and wives joined us, carving out a little time together during the holiday. Just a simple meal together, no distractions, not much fuss just to catch up and enjoy being together. I think mama would be pleased. We need that time. As she would say, your brothers will be your longest living relative. You need your brothers Leisa. Yes ma'am, I know. 

Then the chaos! We had a wonderful Christmas and got to see all the "littles" open their gifts, enjoyed hugs and laughter together. We missed the oldest, he's off on his own living his best life and we are happy for him. We enjoyed time with each one of them, talked and laughed, watched movies, snuggles & hugs, made goodies, played dominoes (and no, we did not let them win.) I can't explain how a six year old who can't read or add, beats two adults at dominoes. He is an anomaly. 

Old camping photo, missing one. This is how they roll, they sure love each other. 

Final thoughts. If you are chasing the money? It's not important. Do you hear me? It's not important- it doesn't matter. All you need is enough. That's it, just enough. 

It strikes me greatly the differences in our raising & childrearing today. As children we didn't know we weren't well off. We always had food on the table, were always cared for, always taken to church, always loved. I sure thought with the tree house nailed up in that big birch tree, the homemade swing in the oak tree and the huge yard, loads of cousins to play with~~ we had it all. We had a huge extended family that reached from California to Florida and everywhere between. We had cousins we didn't see but once or twice a year but there was always laughter and hugs. Keep those hugs people. Take the time to spend with the children and with your old people, with your brothers and with your sisters. It's important and one day it will be even more important that you feel today. 

Remember, life is not always about you. 
Bye, 2022. I won't miss you. 

She is in everything I do.

 

We returned from a lovely week-long camping trip last Sunday. I was aware of what day it was and it doesn't hurt as much as it used to. It's more a longing now for eternal days to come. Mama died a short few minutes after midnight on May 1st. 

It's been ten years now which is what I find so incredibly hard to believe, even though I know it's true. The memories rush to fill my head often and I welcome them. When a loved one is gone, those memories sustain us until the day we see them again. I can often hear her voice in my own or in my daughter, I see the sparkle of her quick sarcastic wit in both my son and daughter. I am often reminded by family how my hands look just like hers. 

When I bake a cake I hear her lessons in my mind, "sift the flour, measure it and resift three times, It makes the cake high and light." Yes ma'am. She was right, it makes the cake divine! I withhold recipes because it may not be your time to have it yet and because she did the exact same thing. I always found that completely amusing and hilarious!! [It wasn't until she died and I perused her cookbook, I found the lemon square recipe she gave out was NOT her recipe at all. Hers was better, adjusted for personal taste.] Brilliantly done Mama! 

A few days before her passing, she was admitted to the hospital and moved to palliative care. Almost every person dear to her came and visited, they all had the chance to say their goodbyes, to touch her, to tell her they loved her, even though she was sleeping.

I had imagined what these days would be like a million times over the last few years of her dementia. Her sharp wit was silenced, her memory dulled, often replaced by confusion. She still had a sense of humor at times, which was comforting. It was hard for her to pull up our names from memory but she knew all three of her children's faces. She knew we were hers. 

I never imagined what The Father would give. The last 24 hours her vitals were stronger than they had been in a year. Nurses say it happens all the time. When people are surrounded by family they rally, their body responds because as much as we can humanly tell they can still hear us. What did she understand? We don't know for sure but I know she heard us all there with her. Telling stories of childhood all day that last day, with much laughter and tears.

Throughout our lives a recurring theme-  even though mama could be excitable and jump to conclusions as she was a classic "over thinker".. when it came down to the serious, the important, she was reserved and steady. She was quiet and thinking how to diffuse things, resolute and unwavering in her support. Mama was the person you wanted there in a crisis, when your life took an uncertain turn. She generally got weak and had to take a seat when the "all clear" was announced but during the problem? Oh absolutely calm and under control with no judgement.  

When all was quiet April 30th our sweet nurse Sarah gently woke us to say her time was close. Her breathing became soft and easy, no longer labored. 

It was one of the sweetest moments of my life. She was the one who saw us come into the world and we were given the gift to see her go home. Thank you Lord. 

                                                                   

I prayed for a long time for Gods best offerings on the day she would die. Selfishly I asked him to ease our pain because we had lost her over and over for almost six years. When she forgot one of our birthdays (even though you know why) it still hurts. When she was threatening and agitated (which was not like her at all) it caused pain. When you did all you could possibly do but she was still in pain.. Yes, I asked God to ease our pain, to ease her pain... let her go. 

So this week, I think of her as Mothers day is almost here. I'm no longer sad, mama completed her task and went home. She taught us well and did her best. From the book of Matthew, chapter 25. I'm sure she heard "well done good and faithful servant" and until I see her again, that's enough. 

I too will hear from my children and see some of them on Sunday after church, there will be phone calls and love expressed. She will be here, she's always here. She's in my kitchen, I can still hear her voice. She's in my plantings and blooms. She will always be with me. She's in my hands as I hold those I love close, close to me in my prayers as she taught me how. She is in everything and that brings comfort beyond words. 

Happy Mothers Day. 

Childhood and butter cracker days

 

Looking back, I guess by todays standards we would have been considered financially poor. However, to look upon it as children it seemed we had it all. We had a snuggly home in winter and despite the fact the home did not have a drop of insulation in the rafters- in summer it was remarkably cool inside. 
Daddy used a coal stoker furnace for heat and with a couple boys in the household there were plenty of hands to carry coal to the basement. When the power was off there was a big fireplace in the living room to keep us warm. We always had clothing. Each year before school started mama and I would go shopping and I got four outfits. Not five, just four. It was what mama had budgeted in her head that she could afford for me. She made sure, without my knowledge the shirts were cotton where they could be worn summer and winter and the pants were not too heavy. Every Christmas I got one or two more outfits to add to the mix. Come Spring the shirt sleeves were cut off and hemmed, dress sleeves were changed and pants were cut off for shorts. Sometime mama would change the pants by adding a trim or some embellishment. I would then wear my "new" pants with great pride. Yes, by todays standard that would be poor but I never felt that. I can assure you my mother and all her good senses also knew we had enough. She carried no unneeded guilt because we didn't have material wealth. We had all we needed. 

We always had great food. More than one of our uncles had cattle, we always had fresh beef in the freezer. Another uncle had fruit trees and we had plums, pears and apples for jam and jelly. Mama made the best jelly. My favorite was blackberry and sometimes she made just a few jars for me.
Daddy farmed a piece of leased land on occasion only a few miles from home. It was called "the old Brogden place." I remember sliding into the cool seat in mama's Ford Fairlane to take daddy and the boys sandwiches for lunch. Mama also made a gallon jug of tea and took water. She bagged ice in a brown paper bag and took jelly jars to drink out of. We would picnic right on the tailgate of the truck. Daddy pulled an old stump up for mama to sit on.
I would run thru the corn field higher than my head, break open watermelon and at night we shelled peas until our fingers were purple. There was the smell of earth at that farm place, it smelled of freshness and life. Daddy stood strong and straight. He had a tremendous work ethic and he taught it to his children. My brothers worked like men tending the garden with daddy. Daddy believed in hard work to keep you out of trouble and keep your heart humble, grateful. We raised peanuts and a full garden at home, plus hogs. The hogs were butchered come Fall each year and the meat shared with family. They shared their garden harvest every year as well. (I was the "corn silking" girl. After summer I never wanted to see another ear of corn. I must have silked thousands of ears.)
Daddy packed bushel baskets with fresh food to take to others. If a car was rolling I always wanted in it but mama never let me go with daddy on those deliveries. She didn't want to possibly embarrass the recipients. Back then everyone put others first. How incredibly sad that doesn't happen today. 

We were not allowed many sweets in Mary Lou's house. If we ate raisins we had to brush our teeth. I can remember thinking "my mama is very wrong about this" and what I didn't realize was my mama was very smart. She was being thrifty by making sure our teeth were clean and we didn't need an unexpected trip to the dentist. Plus, she was pretty sure sugar was of the devil. We had homemade cakes for our birthdays and on holidays, that was pretty much it for sweets. 

At the Hicks house our "cookies" were vanilla wafers and graham crackers. If you didn't want those mama felt you were probably not very hungry.  Then there were those butter cracker days. When I was home sick from school or had a random stomach virus. Sometimes, just because we wanted them. It was always when it was just my mama and I. She would make a fresh pot of iced tea and she would get her Fostoria glasses out. Oh, we hardly ever got to use those as kids, we drank out of a jelly glass most of the time. [The jelly glass was the equivalent of the red Solo cup today.] Because, you know, kids break everything. You could always save more jelly glasses. 

But. . . on those butter cracker days mama pulled out the good glasses and I got very excited. 
She would let me help her and we would spread a thin layer of butter on saltines. Sometime on a couple graham crackers. She and I would sit down on the front porch to eat crackers and drink tea. I felt like a real lady. We would talk about school and projects she needed to work on at home. I always asked when we would be going to Pensacola to visit family and mama would offer a shopping trip to look at the new dresses for Spring. She would tell me which curtains needed cleaning or if a bedspread needed pressing and I would always help her. Not because I was required to but because I wanted to help. She made me feel special. We didn't have to go buy something, no dinner out or movie, just those butter crackers and tea with my mama. I still hear her laughter in my daughters voice.  
It was only a week or so ago when I was making butter crackers for myself. I had a fresh glass of tea, no longer in a jelly glass. I sat on the back porch and listened to the birds. I miss her and those talks but I learned so much about life from her and that butter crackers are good eating.
It is important to know how to treat people, how to be happy with what you have, how to love your people well. Mama knew how to be happy in whatever situation she found herself in. Those lessons sustain me daily. It's "butter cracker satisfaction" I believe. A choice to be happy, every day. 
My husband and I have much more than our parents did but it's still the simple things, simple days that bring joy and contentment. 

Thank you Lord for simple days and butter crackers. 

  

Life changes but Jesus.

 

It's hard for me to reconcile myself to the dust that blew up as we traveled down that little dirt road. Less than two weeks ago we had dangerous flash floods in our area and more than one of my friends had damage from rising waters. But there we were, riding down that dirt road in rural central Alabama watching the dust roll up in front and behind us. 

It was a good day. We decided to take a couple grandchildren down to enjoy a day at local farm and pumpkin patch, Griffin Farms. There was much for them to see and do. They had a wonderful day. They slid down long, tall slides, played on hay bales, wandered through a real corn maze, had a hay ride and don't forget the zipline. They loved on farm animals and lay in the grass gazing at the sky. A good day indeed for children and Honey and Pop too. They tried boiled peanuts and ate cotton candy.
I selfishly want more of these good days. 

It has been a tough month or so. Mid-August in a routine skin check a melanoma was discovered on my scalp, right at the crown of my head. It was a speedy process getting the biopsy back, planning surgery and down to the wound vac that went on. We've learned a great deal about the process. I've learned a great deal about melanoma in general. Like, you can have it in your eyes. I had no idea before this. 
I was diligent about sunscreen before but now I must wear it all over, every day. When I'm driving, when I'm sitting in a window feeling the sunshine on my back. Why? Because melanoma can be deadly. Yes, it's the one skin cancer that can take your life. I will have skin checks very three months for the next year or more, then every six months.. Doctors hope they will not see a recurrence for 5 years. That's my best case scenario. Melanoma can pop up anywhere in your body at any time though. It also makes you more susceptible to other cancers. [I had thyroid cancer in 2020, likely caused by melanoma, we didn't know I had at the time.] My PSA to everyone- please do not postpone getting your skin checks. I have gotten annual skin checks since I was 19 because my mother always insisted. (I am fair-skinned and blue eyed) but mine was postponed due to covid in 2020. 
Life has changed, drastically. I will always be a cancer patient now, the result of melanoma.
I hope to be NED (no evidence of disease) soon but it never goes away. The information is overwhelming at times. It never leaves you, it sometime causes restless nights and hard days. I am determined though satan will not win this fight, I have a Savior and He alone I will trust. #gettheebehindmesatan 

There are things that are not as important as they were before. There are things that are more important now. God has allowed this in my life and it's the consequence of actions taken when I was young and some heredity mixed in. Melanoma may one day take my life but it's not today. That's how I want to face each beautiful day. It's not today. I want more days at Pumpkin patches, reading books, laughing with friends, loving my people. I've been learning pottery for the last 18 months and I want to throw a six pound bowl. I plan to see our church move into the new sanctuary and watch God's people use that building to tell and share the gospel. I'm waiting for my husband to build that backyard fountain we talked about, I want to hear the water gently flow over the rocks.  I've got things to do and places to go. I want to live to see my grandchildren accept salvation. There will be weddings, vacations, babies and so much more. 

Like, traveling down dirt roads with the dust rolling up behind you.. That particular evening at Griffin Farms as we rolled away, the sun was beginning to drop in the sky. The dust was thick, covering my car and sometime we had to slow down to allow it to settle enough to see the road in front of us. Life is like that sometime. It's hard to see the road ahead and we have to slow down to orient ourselves again- make adjustments and continue down the road. Then, through all the dust I caught a glimpse, then the further we drove the sun was in complete view, right over the tops of the trees guiding us.  

I thought to myself, Thank you Lord, there you are guiding us. Still watching over me, even on a dirt road, even with uncertainty of disease looming but there's Jesus. There are those who think those things are exaggerated and only coincidence. I know better. I know He watches over me because I've seen the evidence of His care, I've felt His presence in my darkest hours. 
I've had the privilege of expert care from praying doctors, praying surgeons who also trust in His divine healing. That makes all the difference. 

Don't forget those skin checks friends. It takes just a few minutes and could save your life. Go out today and live life. Call a friend, text someone you love and just tell them you love them. Be an encourager, get involved in helping others. There are twenty-four entire hours in this day. What will yours look like? 
Today is another beautiful day to share the love of Jesus with someone. Get going..