Monthly Archives: January 2017

Encouragement: Give me a K! -By Karla

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Cheerleader

My mom was my cheerleader! Growing up, I struggled with a reading disability as well as anxieties at times. Mom seemed to always have my back.

Tomboy/Lady

Really, Mom was a tomboy at times. In fact, I can remember in her early forties when she laid in the floor, Indian-leg wrestling my cousin Jimmy. I don’t remember who won, but I would think she probably gave him a run for his money! Mom was tough, but she very much had a lady-side to her as well. She was lovley inside and out.

Encourager

She surely knew how to lift someone when they needed a boost. Instinctively, she could help me find the silver lining in difficult situations and always encouraged me to do my best. Instilling years of Christian values, she helped me always look for the good in others and lend a helping hand. She learned from my grandparents that giving to others was a blessing in return.

Life Without Mom

This week marks the thirteenth year of Mom’s passing. Colon cancer is a painful way to die. It took many nights of prayer asking God to remove the images of her last days from my mind and replace them with sweet pictures of her instead. God is faithful; He did just that. When Mom died, I lost my cheerleader. Truly for a while I felt lost, as if a storm was erupting around me and I was struggling to find my way out.

During this time in my life, I think I was as frightened as the disciples must have been when they were in a boat in the midst of the raging winds and waves. The book of Mark shares that they cried out as Jesus was walking on the water. He replied, “Take heart. It is I. Do not be afraid.” The Bible story stays that He got in the boat with them and the wind ceased. I too cried out to Him, and He came to me calming my heart and mind. In time He helped me move forward learning to be thankful for the memories I had with Mom.

Surrounding Yourself with Christian Sisters

Today, I continue to be thankful that I have my sisters, cousins, and aunt who continue to be my cheerleaders. In addition, there are so many at my church who care for me, including my small group of precious women. I think everybody needs someone in their corner rooting. In our present world, with far too much evil, it is almost a necessity. We all need people, who take the time to lend an ear, give a helping hand, and go the extra mile on occasion. Doing some quick research, I found that there are over four-million children being raised by grandparents, about thirty percent of children are being raised in single-parent homes, and about 400,000 children living in some form of foster care in the U.S.  Gracious! These kids and guardians need a cheerleader!

Be a Cheerleader for Someone

Look around! Pick a parent; pick a kid. Invest a few minutes each week. Send your child’s teacher the money for your child’s ice cream and enough for another child who might enjoy an extra special treat.  Regularly text a youth in your church who is going through a tough time. If you’re better with adults, drop a card in the mail to your neighbor, who is a single mom, or offer to pick up some groceries as you shop yourself. Give an extra smile to your colleague, who looks tired when you pass them in the hallway.

Several years ago, a lady walked up to me when I was in my hometown and I was standing with my sisters. I am sure I had met her when I was a little girl, but did not remember her. She began to tell us about how her dad. She shared about his drinking problem when he was alive in his adult years and how that problem had caused health issues in his later life. I looked at her with sympathy and smiled not really knowing her point, but she then shared one of the sweetest things. “Your mom, well, she would stop by my dad’s house sometimes with dinner and talk with him for a bit before she left. You will never know what that meant to him and to me. She (Mom) was such a kind lady.”

I just stood there amazed, learning of this situation. Smiling, I heard her words about Mom, knowing that she was not just a cheerleader to me, but to many. It made me realize how much our encouragement can mean to others.

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Best Friends: Saturday Fun -By Donna

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    Lucy and Ethel, Laverne and Shirley, and Thelma and Louise are just a few famous lady duos. But these girls have nothing on us! 

Karla and I were fortunate enough to be born into our friendship, second cousins by birth.  Karla’s mom and my dad were first cousins and had their fair share of adventures, and we have continued the family escapades. We have so many stories we could write a book. So that’s just what we are doing and have been for years.

   With both of us having busy family lives, we don’t get to meet and write as often as we would like. So, it’s taking such a long time because when we get together, it can be difficult to buckle down and get busy. Take Saturday for instance. We met for lunch first. This is always essential because we love Cracker Barrel, and we have to catch up on each other’s lives. Even though we have texted and talked during the week, it’s just not the same as the face to face commentary. 

Beauty Shop Fun

     The weather was absolutely beautiful for this time of year, so we decided to go to Starbucks and sit outside to work. We hadn’ t been writing long when Karlas’ hot flashes began and there was not a ponytail holder to be found. So, like MacGyver, we used whatever was at hand. Being the person who is never without dental floss, I pulled off a long string. Karla attempted to put her hair up alone, but wasn’t having much luck. So I got up to do it. I carefully wrapped the floss around and around her hair, tying it and carefully making a dainty bow. People sitting outside were staring at the makeshift beauty shop, but we have gotten used to stares!

Friend Fun

     Our book spans many generations, starting with our great-great grandfather and reaching down to us. Saturday, we decided to write a story from our college years.  One thing led to another, and we were laughing and singing. It often happens when one of us has a random thought.  It started when Karla said, “I’m a pickin’”; then paused for me to add ” and I’m a grinnin’” That reminded me of a song from our childhood.  I started in, “Pickin’ up Paws Paws and puttin’ them in my pocket…”  (And of course being the kindergarten teacher that I am, I was picking up imaginary paw-paws and putting them in my pretend pocket.) As I continued singing, Karla joined in.  

     I abruptly stopped asking, “What is a paw paw anyway?”

     Karla’s reply, “probably poop.”

     “Poop!  Why would you put poop in your pocket?”

     “I don’t know, they’re picking in a field, you know poop like cow patties.”

     So I quickly googled it, and we were amazed to discover that a paw paw is a fruit! We had sang this song since childhood and never knew what we were singing about.

     We began discussing the time we decided to change the words to hit songs, making them apply to our love life, or lack of, and create our own Top 40 Countdown.  What fun we had with a record player and tape recorder in those days. 

Boom Box

     To Karla’s surprise, I had downloaded these tapes a while back to my computer because I’m sure with age they are becoming brittle. Remembering that I had them on the computer, I located them for us to listen to. Since Starbucks had music playing over the outside speakers, it was difficult for us to both hear. So we improvised.  We sat holding the big laptop computer between our two heads like a giant boom box, and we listened and laughed until we cried.  We weren’t the only ones amused. People sitting around were getting a kick out of us. More times than we can count, we have been mistaken for being intoxicated. But life is meant to enjoy, and that is what we do!

    

 

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Snow Days -By Karla

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I have always loved a snow day, and growing up in Blue Ridge, Georgia, we had lots of them. Mom taught us how to prepare for hours of fun. Layer after layer.

  • Long johns
  • A couple of pairs of socks
  • Plastic baggies tied with a bread tie
  • A pair of jeans
  • A couple of T-shirts
  • Sweatshirt
  • Coat
  • Galoshes that had two little buttons and elastic loops to tighten them around your leg.
  • Gloves
  • Plastic baggies tied with a bread tie
  • Mittens
  • Toboggans with a tassel

“Let’s meet at the top of the hill at 10:00”

 

Most everyone in the neighborhood was laying up. The older kids would ride their wooden sleds down the steep road. When one slide down, he or she was the look out, to make sure no car was inching around the sharp curve at the bottom of the hill.

“Gail, get on your knees.”

My sister climbed on behind her friend. While she was on her knees, he sat on his bottom and steered the sled down the icy road with his feet. As they neared the bottom, one of the wooden slabs broke. They went slipping and sliding downward and swerved just enough not to go soaring off they ten foot drop off. As the older girls got tired of flying down the hill, they would move onto building a snowman. They had a system. The girls would begin the snowballs while the boys rolled the giant snow boulders back and forth across the yards. Their goal was simple: Build a snowman bigger than the one created during the last snowfall. I think their record was a twelve footer.

Up to six feet at times

My little sister, my best childhood friend, and I would grab our plastic sleds and begin. Having the label “you’re too young to go down that icy road” forced us to find a sweet spot on the snow covered grass. We slid until the fraction had caused some sprigs of grass poked through. Then we would scoot over a bit and start making a new slope. Over and over. Our goal was more simple than that of our older siblings: Slide so fast that we could not stop ourself from the flying off three-foot drop. Over the years, we reached that goal often as a present-day tailbone x-ray would have the show the proof needed to back up that claim.

The Routine

When we felt frost bite settling in, we knew the routine.

  • Stomp the snow off your boots
  • Strip down to the layer that is not wet
  • Come inside
  • Go directly to the dryer with your wet clothes and turn them on (so they would be ready when we were nice and toasty and refueled to go back outside
  • Put one something warm

Homemade hot chocolate was always simmering on the stove and filled the house with warmth. Mom would go back and forth from the kitchen to the living room carrying our mugs while we sat by the coil heater thawing out. Hearing the little sizzles and crackles from the kitchen, we knew our buttery popcorn was near.

Those magical words: Snow Day!

I think I will always love snow days. When I get wind that one might be drifting into town, I feel the excitement building. As a teacher, I have been called down a time or two when the realization that we might be leaving early develops. I probably deserved both times. Once we watched from the cafeteria as huge flakes cascaded outside the  glass-covered wall. I began dancing with my vice-principal! Then I heard my name over the microphone, “Mrs. Smedley, please calm down! I am trying to give instructions to the students.”

Another time, I got a bit carried away and gave a little hoop-n-holler in the hallway. Several teachers came out and asked me to please tone it down a bit. I just can’t help it. I love living in the South where the anticipation of snow is never a “hear it comes again” dread.

Every time the snow blows into town, I remember the sweet words of Mom. She never missed a snow day call. “Karla, remember God is giving you a snow day to slow down and enjoy family and fun times.”

“Come to me, all who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest.” Matthew 11:28

Thanks, Mom, for the memories and the reminder.

-Karla

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Daddy’s Instructions: Really?! -By Donna

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Having taught second grade and under for over twenty years, I have come across only three books that make me cringe when a child says “read this one!” They are Rocking Horse Christmas, The Velveteen Rabbit and Love You Forever. Although I am not a crier, these stories bring tears to my eyes. The first two books produce a lump in my throat when I read the heart break the animals go through as they lose their human children. The third book, Love You Forever, by Robert Munsch, rips at my heart differently. It is the story of a mother and son as they age together. It reminds me that no matter how grown up I am, I am always someone’s child.

I experienced this first hand New Year’s Eve when I went to visit my Daddy. We decided to go to the store. I was driving and Daddy was in the passenger seat beside me. It was a rainy afternoon as we headed to town. Now at age 50, I’ve been driving for 34 years, but at age 77, he’s been my daddy for 50.

Driving Instructions

As I saw the traffic light, that was way ahead, turn to red, I heard, “Watch that red light. Start slowin’ down. It’s a rainin’ and these roads are slick.” I admit that I tend to drive fast, but today under these conditions I wasn’t at all. Instinctively, I obeyed. I began putting on the brakes way before I normally would have.

Further on down the road I started changing lanes. He reminded me, “Ease over, Donnie Boo. Now just get in the left lane.” Really? I thought. Is he telling me how to drive? Surely not. Pulling into the parking lot I could see multiple speed bumps ahead.  “Go slow over these. I don’t see why they need so many of these things. They’re hard on a car.” So I carefully glided over each one. It’s a good thing I didn’t zoom over them like I normally do, I thought.

After shopping, we returned to the car and I buckled up. As I turned my body around to back out, Daddy turned around also and instructing said, “Just back out kinda slow, a little at a time. There ya’ go. Cut the wheel real deep. Ya’ got it.”

I looked at my boys’ faces, who were both hiding a grin. Okay, he really is telling me how to drive! I thought. I could have remarked, “I know how to drive”, but all I could do was smile. My mind drifted back to age fifteen with a new learner’s permit, hot-rolled hair, Alabama’s “Feels so Right” cassette tape playing in the green Ford LTD… And I think so had he.

      I’ll love you forever, I’ll love you for always

                                   As long as I’m living, My baby you’ll be.

—Robert Munsch

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