Reunion: On the Side of Loving Road -By Donna and Karla

On a knoll off the side of Loving Road in North Georgia, stands a most cherished building, which bonds a family of six generations. To many, the fourth Sunday in June would bear the title of homecoming day. In the same way as other older churches in the area, we address this special Sunday as the Decoration Day.

History

Founded in 1929, the Smith family donated the land for the cemetery. However, even before its official establishment, there were burials. Two early small Smith tombstones mark the lives of babies. One infant died in April 1865, the same month the Civil War ended. The other baby was left to the Smith’s by a Gypsy family traveling through the area, but it died shortly after. In addition a stone is inscribed “Smith” for a Confederate soldier.

Mt. Carmel Church

In 1943, Gus, Dennis, and Grady Hunt (Donna and my great-great uncle, our great grandfather, and my grandfather/Donna’s great uncle) built a quaint, white church. In those days, service was once a month when Mr. Henry, the traveling preacher, came into the area.

Our Aunt Anna remembers how she and all young cousins played quietly and took naps on a quilt stretched out in the aisle. The service lasted from daylight to dark. Oil lamps lit the building because there was no electricity (nor is there still). She shares, “The shadows they made on the walls would scare me a little.”

The all-day service meant everyone brought food to share for meals. Potty-breaks were taken in the nearby outhouse that is still used today. We are graced by the church’s original structure and benches. In recent years, relative added updated windows and a new roof. During these repairs, four generations, ranging in ages from two to seventy-six, refreshed the outside of the church with a new coat of white paint. Although the physical foundation of the church required rebracing this past year, the spiritual foundation of our family has not waivered for almost eighty years.

The Fourth Sunday in June

If you drive down Loving Road fifty-one Sundays of the year, you might miss this little treasure. For it is only the Fourth Sunday in June that the church hosts a congregation. On this special day, family members make such an effort to attend. As flowers are placed on graves of loved ones, hence the name decoration, we stand underneath the large oak tree singing hymns before entering the church house.

“Family sings Where the Soul of Man Never Dies” and other older hymns while accompanied by several guitars and a banjo.  As always someone collected an offering to aid in preserving the church and cemetery. A family member preached reminding us of the importance of preserving a good name while finishing the Christian race. Memories of our Moms, dads, grandparents, and other family members flooded our minds. For they left behind a Christian influence that continues to span generations. The service ended as a cousin sang “Amazing Grace”. Little by little the family joined in. After catching up and taking a few pictures, cars left their grassy parking spots.

Nana’s

Then cars coasted down the hill to the house known as Nana’s built by Granddaddy in ’72. Though their generation is no longer here, their love still lingers among us. The folding tables that now replace the sawhorses and plywood tables, grace the porch. They hold some of the most delicious food: ham, casseroles, chicken-n-dumplings, beans, okra, corn, squash, and tomatoes from the gardens, and desserts a plenty! All diets are off on this day!

As almost sixty of us line up to walk along the tables filling our plates, we pause to pray. Heads bow as the bounty of food is blessed and the hands that prepared it, and appreciation for the family that has gone before. Tom, a married-in cousin, finished this prayer with “And thank you for letting me marry into this loving family, and Lord, for allowing us all to be welcomed into your eternal family. Amen.”

The Little Mountain Church

We ate and visited for hours. We shared stories and laughed until early evening. Realizing the time, we started driving the hour over the mountain. We found ourselves singing a song that represents such an importance in our lives.

The Little Mountain Church

Looking back now, that little mountain church house,

Has become, my life’s corner stone,

It was there in that little mountain church house,

I first heard the word, I’ve based my life upon.

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Going Home -By Donna

Karla and I drove to my daddy’s on Father’s Day for an overnight visit. He still lives in the house I grew up in, but the definition of going home has changed over the years. During the college years, it meant someone to wash my clothes, make a homemade meal to eat, and a place to get a good night’s sleep.

When I moved into the married years with children, I was no longer the most anticipated person walking in the door. Grandkids stole the first hugs and much of the attention while we toted in all essentials needed when traveling with little ones. The older married years were lots of fun when I was home. With all five grandchildren together swimming, Mama and I would cook in the kitchen. My brothers picked on me like they used to. Eleven years ago, going home became difficult for my brothers and me. We spent time with Mama, knowing the cancer would someday result in her absence from our childhood home.

Changes

Going home now means the absence of some family, including mama and the introduction of new members. Even the pool I loved as a kid, has been filled with dirt and vegetables.

Going home may be different now, but somethings just never change. Walking in the door and greeted with hugs, Karla and I barely had time to use the bathroom before we were invited to the table. It was filled with delicious home-cooked food including veggies from the garden. For at least 40 of my 50 years, Karla and I have graced the table together many times. However, no older brother was burping and getting fussed at and my mama was not running back and forth waiting on our every need.

But as always, Daddy blessed the food. My daddy has always said, “Dear Heavenly Father” when he would begin and ended with, “and bless this food to the nourishment of our bodies, in Jesus’ name we pray, amen.”  We all held hands as I listened to his familiar southern dialect. Karla came to tears as she held his elderly hand and noticed he was constantly rubbing her hand as he prayed. Perhaps she felt the age in his hand, but she also felt the love in his heart.

More Change

The next morning I stretched and rolled over in my childhood bedroom, though nothing looked the same. No poster of Eric Estrada, stuffed animals, cat collectibles, or stereo system was seen. But the familiar smell of breakfast cooking caused me to awaken early. It’s not often someone cooks breakfast for me! Just as I was about to try and catch a few more winks, my door flew open. “Are you awake Donnie Boo? Breakfast is ‘bout near ready if y’uns want some.”

 It was a little different when I was a child and he woke me. In those days, I would hear, “Wake up Jacob, give a little light; see your daddy in a pole cat fight!” I heard it every Sunday morning as he stirred me awake to get ready for church. Still my daddy’s voice waking me brought such a smile. 

Deciding we would all go to town, Karla and I got ready. As we did so many times growing up, we stood in front of the wall mirror in the blue bathroom. We painted our faces, curled our hair, and laughed just as in years past. But I saw no tube of Clearasil, Panasonic tape player or hot rollers. What I did see were two faces with a few wrinkles sneaking in, a gray hair here and there, and smiles that have withstood many tornadoes of life together.

Saying Goodbye

When we were ready to head back home, the departing routine began as it always did in the past. Daddy checked the oil, put a little more air in the tires, and a touch of water in the radiator. All lights were inspected: front, brake, back-up and signal. He packed the car making sure nothing was sticking up high enough that my view would be blocked. Then he cleaned the front windshield so that I could see clearly.

 

What had changed? The man, who was smiling and waving at us as we pulled away. He looked like the man I grew up describing as old…my granddaddy. While we were growing up, Daddy was growing old.

No matter how different things are now, the love I have felt over the years and the years to come will never change. Even when my childhood home and family are no longer there to visit, they will exist in my heart.

 

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Humor: Afternoon Delight -By Karla

Desiring to Alter the Birth Order

Growing up in the 70’s, God placed me smack-dab in the middle of the eight grandchildren. The adults referred to us as the “big kids”, ranging from about ten to thirteen, and the “little kids”, ages eight and down to four. Lynn, Kay, Gail, and Nanette made up the “big kid” group, while Jimmy, myself, Denise, and Julie made up the “little kids”. Oh, how I yearned to advance to the “big kid” group.

Being One of the Little Kids

It was a common occurrence to find the eight-of-us in Nana’s basement, using the saw horses and plywood from Granddaddy’s construction business to build a stage. Utilizing the downstairs’ clothesline, we hung Granddaddy’s wool, green army blankets to make theatrical curtains. We would practice all afternoon, and then present our production for the adults, who sat in lawn chairs, that evening. We had hours of fun.

I remember the time when the “little kids” had to be bears with a target on their butts. The “big kids” took old rags and drew circles with red lipstick. Then we, the little kids, had to tuck the target into the back of our shorts, letting it drape over our derrieres!

I pouted and cried, like that helped me look like one of the “big kids”. We had to dance around shaking our target-ladened booties as the eight of us acted out Johnny Horton’s “Ole Slew Foot” song.

“He’s big around the middle and he’s broad across the rum

Running ninety miles an hour taking thirty feet a jump

Ain’t never been caught; He ain’t never been treed

And some folks say he looks a lot like me. (Except we changed the word me to say he looks a lot like Granddaddy!)

Everyone died laughing!

We had such good times in that basement. However, I felt doomed to be one of the “little kids” my whole life!

Alas, The Chance to be a Big Kid

Aunt Anna and her family lived south of Atlanta in Jonesboro during these years. Sometimes, my sisters and I would spend a few nights with them during the summer.

On these days there was only six of us, but the names were still the same: The “big kids”, who could go around the corner to walk or ride bikes, and the “little kids”, who given strict instructions to stay on the street directly in front of Aunt Anna’s house.

The “big kids” would come back from their walk into complete freedom, with huge grins on their faces. They would giggle and whisper their secrets from the beyond.

“I can’t believe he was outside! Oh, Gail, did you see him?”

“Yes, he is so cute!”

Oh! I so wanted to round the corner with them. “Who, who? Tell me who you saw. Please!”

“Robert. He’s sooo cute!”

“Yep, he wears his cut off blue jean shorts and sits out on his porch.”

“I want to go with y’all! Please take me!” I begged and pleaded until once they begrudgingly allowed me to tag along.

I beamed, “Will he be there?”

“Shh! We’ll have to look for his orange van to see.” They tried to act cool.

Orange van?

Seeing Robert

“Yep, and you know the song ‘Afternoon Delight’? It’s painted across the side of it.

Now please know that as far as our innocent minds were concerned, afternoon delight probably had something to do with the ice cream truck that made its way through the neighborhood around 2:00 every day.

Rounding the corner, Kay began singing, “Sky rockets in flight”, and we all joined in, “Afternoon delight, afternoon delight, afternoon delight with long notes held out and the dramatic pauses for effect.

We were singing and laughing when we saw the orange van. And The tanned, twenty-something handsome Robert was on the porch also.

I thought I had arrived!

However, when we got back to Aunt Anna’s, my short-time advancement into the “big kid” league had pretty much ended. Thankfully, Jimmy and Julie were ready for me to come back to play with them.

A More Recent Van

I recently loaned my daughter Rachel my car while hers was in the shop. I borrowed a car from my sister, but it broke down. So I then borrowed from two different friends. Finally, I rented a car.

When a precious lady from my small group Bible study found out is was renting a car, she let me borrow her van.

I arrived at her house so grateful. Patty sheepishly told me she had forgotten that there was an issue with it he van.

“I bought a new couch, but it is still inside my van because I am waiting for the old one to be picked. But, if you do not mind having a van in the back, please feel free to still borrow it though. I am sorry.”

Couch or not couch, I need something to drive.

I thanked her and drove off thinking. It has been a tough couple of weeks with car issues. I was close to a pity party, but burst laughing!

“Robert, you ain’t got nothing on me!”

And I began singing, “Sky rockets in flight, afternoon delight…”

-Karla

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The Power of Words. -By Donna

During the summer, being a teacher, I get the luxury of sleeping late, or just lying there enjoying the birds chirping. This morning around 7:40 my phone “beeped” the familiar text sound. My first thought was, “who in the world is texting me this early?” (This  is funny because the normal school early for me is 5:30 am.)  I rolled over, slid on my reading glasses, and pulled up the text.  It read, “Good Morning. Have a great summer! I appreciate you!” Then it was followed by this picture. I smiled. And honestly, it made me feel good about myself. A simple compliment can do wonders for someone who needs it. Words are so important. Maybe As parents, we should ask ourselves, when was the last time we complimented our children?  

The Words of Parents

Being a parent is very difficult, no matter what stage our child is in. We become overwhelmed, tired, and frustrated. At times, children can be little pests, annoying, and a pain in the derriere! I’m speaking as a parent and a teacher. BUT, please be aware of the words you say to your child. I am not saying scolding a child is wrong. Children need that. My mama was strict! She would not hesitate to speak firmly to one of us three, her nieces or nephews, or our friends if she felt necessary. If you were in our home, you were fair game! But never in those moments did she ever speak rudely, or say things that made us feel unloved or unwanted. 

“I Can’t Stand Y’all”

 In the Dollar General store recently, a mother came in with her two children, around ages 8 and 4. Walking in the door she complained, “Just shut up! Y’all drive me crazy. I can’t stand ya’ll. Y’all are gonna kill me.” I thought to myself. Lady, what if God decided to take you later today? Do you know what that 10-year-old might think? The entire time in the store, she constantly badgered them with negativity. I have no idea what happened in the car. Maybe it was the usual brother sister picking, but those words she was speaking!

Yesterday in Kroger, I passed a mother of four, as she yelled, “Jesus, please somebody take these children away.” Even when I was two isles over I could still hear her screaming at her kids. I’m sure she was overwhelmed with life. However, on the next isle I passed a couple pushing a girl, about age 6, in a wheelchair. She was clearly severely disabled. I wondered if they had heard the yelling of the mother who was taking for granted her four seemingly healthy children. Many of the things she was yelling about were simple things I’m sure they wished their child could do:  ASKING for the blue Kool-Aid, PICKING up the box of cookies, and WALKING too slow.

How Would You Feel?

How does it make you feel when a boss, spouse, friend, or child compliments you? Good? But how would it make you feel if you made a mistake and they went on and on and on…

Supervisor:  Ms. Low, you forgot to turn in the invoice.

Ms. Low:  Oops, I just got busy and…

Supervisor:  I don’t care. Why are you always screwing up. Why can’t you be like Ms. High. She is always good. You are good for nothing. I wish I had never hired you. You will never change.

The above scenario sounds sort of ridiculous, but that is exactly the way many children are spoken too. By all means, correct your child, fuss at them, and discipline them. But be aware of degrading, humiliating words that can make them feel “inadequate” and “unloved.” Negative comments chip away at a child’s self-worth. Lift up your child with positive words, and give someone a compliment today!

“Kind words are like honey-sweet to the taste and good for your health.”  Proverbs 16:24

–Donna

 

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