Category Archives: Holidays

These blogs are about holidays.

Examples from the Nativity -Karla

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My, how our world has changed. But, it is comforting to know some things have stayed the same and have become classics: making cookies around the holidays and decorating my tree with my girls.

Some things are more than classics. They are truths, holding greater meaning than any holiday tradition. Much joy and hope is chronicled in the Christmas story found in the Bible. The actions of the people involved serve as examples all these years later.

Mary

Mary was betrothed to Joseph. Being pregnant at this time in her life was dangerous. She must have been so nervous telling Joseph and filled doubts of being unworthy. 

Yet, Mary accepted God’s will for her life. She was humble and bravely walked, following His plan and becoming Jesus’ mother. 

In Luke 2:19, after she gave birth, “Mary treasured up all these things and pondered them in her heart.” We should be spending time with Jesus, treasuring God’s Holy Word and pondering in our hearts.

Elizabeth

Elizabeth was an encouragement. Finally being pregnant after being barren into old age, she had to be excited. However, perhaps she was scared to raise a son now or wrestled with the humility that God allowed her to become pregnant. 

But the Bible does not record any such actions. Elizabeth served a vital role in Mary’s story. Mary stayed with Elizabeth for several months, and they walked the path of pregnancy together…the old and the young! As we age, we too should be investing in the lives of others, encouraging them with wisdom that God has allowed us to learn along our paths.

Joseph

Joseph had so many reasons to doubt, and public humiliation was inevitable due to Mary’s condition. What a risk he was taking to believe! 

But, Joseph listened to God’s instructions, given to him by an angel (recorded in both Luke and Matthew). Our first step also is to believe—that God sent His son to change the world. If you have not accepted His gift, For God so loved the world, that he gave his only begotten Son that whosoever believeth in Him should not perish, but have everlasting life (John 3:16), please talk with someone who can help you understand how much you are loved by God and how He wants you to receive His love. Are we willing to believe like Joseph? Belief that is so deep we are changed.

For God so loved the world, that he gave his only begotten Son that whosoever believeth in Him should not perish, but have everlasting life.

John 3:16

Shepherds

The shepherds shared their personal encounter of Jesus with others. God wants us to share our story as well. My experiences in life and how God has provided strength and comfort to overcome is powerful and will minister to others if I am willing.

Wisemen

The wisemen spend a significant amount of their life seeking Jesus. They followed the star as we should be following the Word of God to find our way. While God talks to us through music, prayers, and other Christians, the principal way to learn is through His scriptures. So, we must be willing to read—-really dig in, attend small groups that study the Bible and find sound commentary to help us understand.

Share His Love

Christmas is such a blessing. It begins the most wonderful story ever recorded, the hope for us all! Share the joy only His birth, death on the cross, and resurrection can bring.

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July 4th 1976: The Bicentennial -By Karla

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The Twin Cities

Copperhill, Tennessee and McCaysville, Georgia weren’t really cities at all, but special little towns where I grew up. One of the coolest things is the fact that a person can stand on a bridge in Georgia and look at a bridge in Tennessee, which is only about 50 yards apart. I lived about five miles from McCaysville while my daddy’s pharmacy, Tallent Drugs, was over the Tennessee state line, by the other bridge. Mom was always trying to explain why she had a Georgia driver’s license, but had a Tennessee Post Office address. Both towns were thriving at that time due to the Tennessee Copper Company. The Bicentennial Fourth of July was the best!

Bicentennial Celebration

Max Dillard (Daddy) and Mr. Lee Ross Buttram

The festivities lasted all week long! As a nine-year-old kid, I am sure I did not notice much of the planning the town or mom put into the week, except for my dress. My great Aunt Dot had a sewing shop on the Tennessee side.

As the weeks led up to that July in 1976, Mom and Aunt Dot planned our family’s costumes. Julie and I had colonial, pale blue dresses complete with bonnets while Lynn and Gail wore fancy dresses that matched. Mom’s was more common with a black bonnet. Daddy grew a full beard, the only time in his life that I know about. He wore a white shirt with red suspenders, a black derby hat, and strolled around the drugstore with a corn cob pipe in his mouth.

Bicentennial Jail

Really, everyone in town wore a costume!  If you walked into Buttram’s Hardware, (owned by our neighbors’ family; More Than a Teacher Blog), McCaysville Drugs (owned my childhood best friend’s dad), or any of the businesses on the few blocks that consisted of the twin cities, you would have seen everyone dressed up. In fact, if you weren’t wearing a costume, you could be arrested and put into the wooden makeshift jail in the middle of town! A standard bail was set for anyone “arrested”. I’m guessing the money collected was used to finance the local fireworks. I bet Mom was either having the time of her life strolling the four of us around town, or we were driving her crazy because she was afraid we would rip our skirt tails when we could get excited and start to run.

During the week of the fourth, I called the bank to report the temperature to mom.

Come as you are,
bank from your car
at Ducktown Banking Company.  
The time is….
The temperature is…

(Thinking back, I believe drive-through banking must have been new in our area. It is funny to me that I can remember this jingle, but cannot find my car keys or phone on a daily basis.)

As I put the receiver back on the rotary beige base, it rang. Someone called to share Daddy had been arrested. I ran for Mom to pick up the kitchen phone, which hung on the wall. I was not happy, and Mom must have sensed my uneasiness. She had to remind me, “The arrest is all in fun, Karla. Your dad must have taken his hat off.  But go get Julie, and get y’all’s shoes on. We have to go bail him out,” she laughed.

Bicentennial Parade

Most years before, Julie and I had watched the parade from the vacant rooms above the M & J grocery store. But this year, the creators of the parade added a “walk with your dog” section.

As the fourth neared, I continued to beg Mom to let me march in the parade with my dachshund Barney. I must have put up a good fight or wore her down, because against her better judgement, I was among the other parade members, standing near Hyde’s Chrysler Plymouth awaiting our signal to begin.

Bicentennial Regret

Being that it was the Bicentennial, there were cannons in the parade also. My poor dog Barney. He hadn’t volunteered to be in the parade. His whole little body shook in terror as the cannons were booming. I stood in total regret. I do believe it was the first of several times I can vividly remember wishing I had listened to Mom! To my recollection it was the only time I ever said the prayer, “God, if you will just let me get through this, I promise….“

After what seemed to take forever, we got in parade formation and moved forward. Barney’s little legs couldn’t keep up, so I picked him up in front of The New Yorker restaurant, which by the way had the best grilled cheese and homemade chocolate milkshakes!

As we passed Tallent Drugstore, I saw Mom standing with Julie. Man, I tried as hard as I could to look like I was having fun! But, I don’t think I fooled her. Barney was still shaking when we passed Maloof’s. He walked on his leash for a few minutes until another boom was set off, and I picked him up rounding the corner near the A&P and Arp’s restaurant, carrying him the rest of the way. I do not remember any pleasurable moment except the completion when I happily found Mom to take Barney home!

Bicentennial Fireworks

Later that night, my family gathered with friends by the river, sitting in those scratchy, woven-strapped lawn chairs. We ate snacks (probably from Hickory Farms), laughed, and visited. The week was winding down, but not the memories that I hold so dear in my heart.

Small town Fourth of July’s are the best! There’s not many people who can say, “I watched the fireworks with my family and friends as they were shot off Tater Hill!”

Enjoy a video of the history of Copperhill!

(I do not own the rights to this video. Found on YouTube: Thomas King)

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Acceptance: She’s My Kind of Girl -By Karla

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“I’m a nut; I’m a nut.  I go to the movie just to hold my hand. I wrap my arm around my waist, and when I get fresh I slap my face.  I’m a nut.”

That is a little ditty that my Mom used to sing sometimes.  I have NO idea where it came from, but it has always made me laugh!  Now, while I have never wrapped my arms around my waist. I am a nut.  A certifiable one.

These are just a few examples:

  • Once I asked Donna how many legs a chicken has.  Now, please know I was young and have a habit of talking before I think.  I might add that there is a little Tom T. Hall song entitled The Song about the One-Legged Chicken that messed with my mind, but nonetheless,  I did ask her.
  • Recently,  I wore my dress to school backwards.  I promise it is not as bad as it sounds.
  • About ten years ago, I was trying out a video chair in Walmart as possible gifts for Donna’s boys. It collapsed jerking me backwards and sprawled out in the middle of isle five! Donna was of no help. She was doubled over about to split her gut laughing at me even though I was checking out the chairs as possible presents for her boys
  • There has been more than one year in which I have swigged a cup of hot pink vinegar water.  You see I often do things like Mom did.  She always used coffee cups, food dye, and vinegar water to dye Easter eggs.  I love hot tea, and I drank it morning, noon, and night.  You can imagine my facial expressions and the laughs of those watching as I have run to the sink more to spit it out! I need to find a cup that does not resemble the rest of the Easter-egg-dying mugs.

Yep, I am a nut, a loon, and a goofball all rolled into one. It used to really bother me because I tried to be perfect seeking the acceptance of others.  When that did not happen, I felt inadequate and frankly at times a failure.

The book Jesus Calling helped me understand.  Day after day, Sarah Young shares how much God loves us all.  She provides scripture after scripture to explain how we are designed with weaknesses so that we can dependent on God more and more. I learned how to focus less on my  imperfections, but rather to gear my thoughts on serving others through His love.  Reading my Bible daily, has changed my life.

Sunday is a most glorious holy-day!  Easter.  I have so many wonderful memories of dying eggs, eating coconut bunny cakes, four lavender Easter dresses, and worshiping a risen Savior!

How incredible to think the depths of God’s love.  He sent Jesus, His one and only Son, to earth.  Jesus was betrayed by his own people. They spit on him, beat him, and hung him on a cross to die for me.  For me–to take away my sins, so that I could have an everlasting-life!

What a wonderful feeling to know that I am so cared for that I can accept a free gift of love from God to become His child.  He created me, forgives me of my shortcomings, and probably smiles at my goofiness.  And as I strive to serve Him, I choose to believe he often thinks “she’s my kind of girl”.

 

I serve a Risen Savior.  He’s in the world today.

I know that He is living, whatever men may say.

He Lives; He lives. Christ Jesus lives today.

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Racism: One Heaven. -By Donna

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Growing up I adored the outside and spent most of my summer days in the sun. I loved to swim, ride bikes, and play with the dog. Working in the garden was a daily chore. I tanned so dark. My mother and older brother had very white skin; he even had red hair. My younger brother and I had black hair and dark skin. Many times in public, my mother was asked if we were adopted. I didn’t like my skin because I didn’t want people to think I was adopted,  because I wasn’t. I just looked different.

Bullied

In middle school (which we called Junior High), I was bullied. When I was in sixth grade, a group of eighth grade girls targeted me.They would call me names and shove me. In PE one day, the sixth-grade girls were doing an activity with the parachute as the eighth-grade girls sat watching. If you have ever played with the parachute, you know the game. The teacher called out “under the mountain”. We raised the parachute as high as we could, then twisted our bodies under it, pulled it down to the ground and sat on the sides. It forms a huge mountain. As we all sat underneath laughing, I began feeling the kicks. I slid away from the edge, but they kept coming. When we all came out from the parachute, I looked up at them in the bleachers, and they were laughing. I just couldn’t understand why. 

Days later, as I passed them in the hallway, one of them yelled, “Who is black? Your mama or your daddy?” Then I knew why they were picking on me. They assumed I was of mixed race, and they didn’t like that. Both my parents are white, but I have Native American on my mother’s side. So, technically if you look at my lineage you would see I am of mixed race.

Our Georgia kindergarten standards cover Martin Luther King Jr.  The school I teach at is predominately white. Each year as I read the watered-down story about his childhood, I watch the faces of my students. I see their confusion. “Why? Why won’t his dad (the Caucasian boy’s) let him play with Martin anymore?” I see compassion. “They hurt his feelings. He is sad.” I see anger. “They’re mean. I don’t like them.”

In the Eyes of a Child

What I see is how my kindergartners accept each other; not caring if their classmates have a speech impediment, dress in dirty clothes, are over weight, or wear an eye patch. They see these differences clearly and may ask, “Why do you talk like that, or why are you wearing that?” They ask, but they don’t care. I have found that at this age, most children are unaware of past racism or current racism, and are not aware of either side of the story.

But somewhere along the way, many people become prejudice. Children are born with pure thoughts, until they are tainted with the world’s hatred.

(Proverbs 22:6)  Start children off the way they should go, and even when they are old the will not turn from it.

We are all descendants of Adam and Eve. No matter the color of our skin, we are all equal in God’s eyes. There will be one heaven for us all, and we will all be perfect.

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Christmas Eve -By Karla

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In my late 20’s through my 30’s I was a member of the choir at church.  I loved it, being a part of a musical group and singing hymns.  A time or two I was asked to take a small solo part in a song, and I thought I would die.

As a kid, my comfort zone was about a six by eight! I had been in the band and loved most every minute of it, but tryouts were awful! I remember a moment during my high school years in which I cried because I got so nervous! My poor band director sat alone with me in that small room which come to think of it was only about six by six, so I guess that day the zone was even smaller! I think I made him as uncomfortable as I was making myself. He kindly offered, “Karla, what can I do to help?” I begged, “Don’t make me sight read.”  He shook his head, “You will sit last chair, and you’re too good for that.” I appreciated him.  He calmly sat while I eventually  composed myself.

During the past decade, I have expanded the walls of my tiny comfort zone. Soon after I joined Emmaus Baptist Church, I began singing in the Praise Team.  With only about six members this was quite a stretch for me. The man who operated the sound system would mouth, “Karla, your mic is not on.”  I would continue to sing somewhat shrugging my shoulders not making even the slightest motion indicating I would be turning it on.  In fact, I might even admit praying for them to forget to turn it on before we started! When he caught on to my tricks, I would just place myself as far away from the microphone as possible. When he would motioned for me to scoot up, I must have thought I was playing mother-may-I because I took some serious baby steps toward the mic and planted myself for the next 25 minutes!

A few days ago on Christmas Eve, I had prepared to sing a duet with my dear friend Jenni.  The first song we had planned did not work for us.  After searching, we finally settled on “Hark, the Herald Angels Sing”. We rehearsed several times feeling somewhat confident.  Sunday morning arrived, and I was having sinus issues.  We did a run-through, and after deciding not to sing with the Praise Team, I thought I could hit the high notes required for that one song.

Jenni grabbed the microphone, and I cringed. I only do this with the mic in the holder! We began singing as I felt my throat closing and heard my voice tighten. This is NOT good! I aimed for my soprano notes, but I missed the mark by a mile.  Breathing deeply, I strived again several more times, but to no avail.  It was not going to happen.  Having to hold the microphone was the LEAST of my worries.  I wanted the song to be over fast!  I was thankful when she altered her voice from the practiced alto notes to singing the melody with me because of my weak attempts as the notes rose.  Though the song seemed to creep in slow motion, I survived.

Shaking my head a little and apologizing to Jenni, we sat down.  Pastor Scott began the short sermon, but my mind was having a hard time allowing my mistake to take a backseat to the true meaning of Christmas. Continuing, deacons began serving communion.  The pastor spoke of Jesus’ body being represented by the little bites of unleavened bread, and he signaled us to eat the bread.

A few rows up from me, I noticed Mr. Archee, who is about 80, fighting to peel back the plastic from his bread. Joe, a man who has a lively love for Jesus left his seat, walked across the aisle, and slid down beside Mr. Archee.  He fumbled with the older man’s wrapper until he had the bread opened and Mr. Archee could partake of his communion.

Several tears rolled down my face, as I was reminded that it is our efforts that God desires, not perfection. My attention totally focused on the love of God.

 

-Karla

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The Christmas Gift -By Karla

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Making Time

The presents are wrapped, even though I cut the paper too short on every singe present! Many gifts were exchanged during the second weekend of December, Christmas at Nana’s. With the girls being older and our adapted-in-family, schedules are often busy. So, we had another Christmas last Sunday in my small and cozy living room before the cantata at church.

Allowing Changes to Enter the Scene

Today, I wrapped the last batch of gifts for Christmas morning with Rachel, my youngest daughter.  Over the years, I have learned that the garland may be draped in different places, and that it is even ok if it does not even grace a banister. I have grown to understand that Christmas day does not have to be the only day that presents can be exchanged.

Remembering a Christmas when my tree stayed up until February, I thought of the family member, who returned home from serving in Kuwait.

I smile at the simple text I received: “I am sorry there will not be a present in the mail. Remember though that you will always be our daughter.” For I know, that the words, “You will always be our daughter” is a gift.

Over the years, the rituals have changed locations and dates. Some activities have faded while others have developed.

The True Meaning

But, the tradition of Christmas will never change in my heart. God sent His own son to fulfill the prophecy of the Old Testament. For He, the one true King, was born in a humble stable to change the world.  He gave me, and you, the ultimate gift: dying on the Cross for my sin and yours.

In the Upcoming Years

At 50, I hope to have many Christmases to come. I want to share hot chocolate with present and future loved ones. It is my desire to wrap Christmas presents (hoping to measure the paper the right size) for many decades and watch the delight of others as they open boxes. I love the cookie-making and other baking traditions.

Without you, all the decorations are cold and without meaning. Truly, I long to keep one tradition sacred!  Help me, Lord, to always keep your love and your awesome gift in the forefront of my heart, continuing to share with others no matter the date or location. 

-Karla

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Take It To the Limit! -By Donna

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Here at Smorgasbord of Sisterhood, we will be taking the next few weeks off for the holidays! If you are enjoying our weekly blogs, have no fear, we shall return. In the meantime, we will be working on our upcoming Facebook page and re-posting some oldies. So, read a story you didn’t before or enjoy a repeat!

Enjoy your holiday season and be sure and spend some quality time with not only family but best friends!  

Many years ago, in our college days, two guy friends were taking a drive and Karla and I rode along.  As we sat in the back, a song we loved came over the radio. We began singing to the top of our lungs. In an attempt to shut us up, they rolled down all the windows in the car. But despite the frigid winter air there was no stopping us. We only sang louder. From that day on, every time that song is on the radio, we must belt it out! This holiday season, take something to the limit! Sleep later than ever, laugh harder than before, smile bigger than possible, love larger than imaginable…enjoy life!

–Donna and Karla

Click on the link below for a musical treat! Not!

 

 

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Memories: “It’s the Most Wonderful Time of the Year” -By Karla

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I love the holidays!  I mean LOVE them! There is something magical about this time of year.

Turkey Cookies

When Lindsey was four and Rachel was almost a year old, I started making cookies with them the day before Thanksgiving. I have always cheated and used a mix because it is easier. It’s never been about how they actually taste; it’s the process and the memories.

In the early years, Lindsey had a blast tracing her elementary-school hands with a butter knife. Meanwhile, I worked the dough around Rachel’s little fingers, trying to place them just right to form the head and feathers. We made turkey cookie after turkey cookie with sprinkles galore!

Year after year we baked. Sometimes it was just the three of us, but other times we invited friends and extended family.  It seems like I blinked and they had grown up. Though our schedule does not allow us to make our turkey cookies the day before Thanksgiving, we manage to still carve time sometime over the holidays to gather, roll, cut out our turkeys, smile, and make memories.

Mom’s Famous Dressing

When Mom was sick years ago, I offered to help cook her part of the holiday meals. I consider myself fortunate that she taught me how to make her dressing. That first year without Mom, I can remember being so nervous making it. It’s not like any of the forty-plus family members and friends, who gather for meals over the holidays, would have cared if it did not taste good, but I did! For some reason, I needed it to be as good as hers.

It never failed. Even fifteen years after her passing, Papa Berry, my adult dad, always made sure to walk by me with his plate filled, and pat me on the shoulder. “Karla, your mom would be proud. It tastes just like hers.” He was such a sweetheart; I know some years the dressing was much drier than others.

As one decade rolled into another Rachel started helping make the  dressing, and I know this would make Mom smile.

New Traditions

With the girls being older, I try to put up the Christmas tree the week of Thanksgiving because they have more time to visit.  Over the years the location of the tree has seen different spots, but the golds and reds still grace its branches.  In the background we play Christmas music, usually drink hot chocolate, and sometimes even have a muted football game on.

Family Time While Shopping

On the days that follow Thanksgiving, my sisters and I do some shopping. For us, it is more about spending time together than the materialism. We always have some fun story from these trips.

This year, one store had a line a mile long. We took turns standing in line while the others browsed the racks for that special something. Finally, I told everyone to head toward Panera with my great-niece. Sharing that I would pay for everything now, we could divvy up later. Looking in the stroller, I was surprised that Gail was buying three stuffed animals, but I paid for them as well as everything else.

That evening, we had some serious laughter as we divided up our purchases. My sister Gail grimaced when she realized she owed me money for the two stuff animals she was only letting her granddaughter hold in hopes to keep her satisfied. had let my great-niece hold simply to occupy her time in line.

I then explained the problem with the third stuffed animal.” It did not have a price tag, so they just charged me the same price as the larger one she had just rung up. ” Gail said, “She only had two. Where did the third one come from?”  We burst with laughter when she shared that I had paid for a twenty-five year-old-stuffed animal.  She had brought old one from home and did not realize they had even taken it into the store!

Most Importantly

These are just a few of the reasons, plus the beginning of the possibility of a snow day, that make me love this time of year. How blessed I am to know the most important meaning for the glow of the season. I have in my heart, the birth of Jesus.

For God so loved the world, that He gave His only begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in Him will not perish, but have everlasting life. (John 3:16)

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Autumn: Golden Memories -By Karla

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On Saturday, my twenty-one year old daughter Rachel was home from college and took a short nap on the couch.  Awaken, she announced, “I swear that tree outside had green leaves when I went to sleep!  And now, it is yellow.”  We laughed but discussed how it truly seemed to turn golden overnight. 

That following Monday morning, I glanced out the window as I walked into the kitchen to make my hot tea. I promise you there was a golden tint outside. Dressed and heading to the car, the gold was still in the air.  It made me think of some the golden things throughout my life.

Golden Tunes

As you might have noticed from past blogs, I love music. Driving to school, I wondered about song titles with the word gold or golden.  I began humming and recalling some words to the song, Sister, Golden-Hair by America.  It made me smile. Of course, when I got to school I had to look up the song on YouTube, so I could reminisce. I do not have a special memory of this song; it’s just attached to an era of 70’s days at the Copperhill, TN swimming pool. Another great one is the Larry Gatlin Band’s song, All the Gold in California. With three sisters and a mom who loved to sing, there were many days the 8-track accompanied us as we rode alongside the River Road trying to harmonize. Later in my life, I can vividly remember Michelle Kwan ice skating to Sting’s Fields of Gold. I was an adult, but I cried. She was such a talented artist. I hurt for her that night that she didn’t win the gold, but glided on the ice with such grace.

Late Nights with the Golden Arches 

Surprisingly, another golden item that brings back so many memories is the McDonald’s golden arches. Late Friday evenings after ballgames, the band bus would pull into Mickey-D’s. About 75 famished high-school kids would invade the small dining room, probably disturbing all the poor souls who were trying to eat a meal. We hooped and hollered as if we didn’t have a care in the world. By this time in the evening, most of my food money had usually been spent at the concession stand during the game. But, I always kept enough money tucked in my navy band pants to have a golden-fried apple pie! Ah, the simple things in life. 

The Golden Boob Tube

In 1985, my sister Gail and I just to loved watching Moonlighting with Cybill Shepherd and a much less violent Bruce Willis. Kurt Cameron and his family began the series Growing Pains. This was one of younger Julie’s and my favorites.  That same year, MacGyver came on the scene (and his poster on Donna’s bedroom wall), and he could escape any situation with a pack of dental floss and a bottle of nail polish. But perhaps the funniest of shows during this year was the Golden Girls. Rose and her Saint Olaf stories always cracked me up!  

Golden Transformations

Many years ago, I was driving over the mountain from Dalton to Blue Ridge, Georgia. Because Mom had been sick with colon cancer for about two years, I had made this trip many more times than usual. I was tired and weary as I wove along the windy road. The gold, red, and orange shone so beautifully that day. She was still having some enjoyable days with family, but was no longer working and had slowed a lot. All the prayers I had offered for Mom’s healing were beginning to turn into the realization that God might soon give her the ultimate gift of health. To say I was sad, was beyond an understatement.

Alone in the car, I saw the golden hues a little differently that fall.  I cried and talked to God, and He talked to me. He reminded me that as a Christian death is as beautiful as these golden leaves that were fading. For the first time, I saw the beauty in the completion of this life as one nears their Heavenly life. So, I drove and began to start the process of grieving the beautifully golden transformation that was to come.

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Photographs: Not Just a Picture, But a Memory -By Donna

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   If your house were on fire what items would you try to save? Many people say old pictures. I do too! I have always loved pictures, and they can be so powerful. Photographs leave a legacy. People don’t often realize that a picture of themselves can very well outlive them. Through pictures we can see relatives we never met, but we can preserve their image.

    Pictures are small pieces of the puzzle of our life. Some of those pieces bring back laughter, while others bring tears. Everything is so digital now that most pictures are hidden in a phone or computer, so I try to print off my pictures. I love my photo albums as do my children. What looks like “just a picture” to one person, may be a whole story to another.

Sorrow Behind a Smile

   To anyone else this picture of Tucker and me, may just seem like a sweet moment. But behind my smile was sorrow. I had just returned from the hospital where I had a DNC for the baby that I miscarried. It reminds me of the ultrasounds, the tests, the bad news, and telling the kids.

The Cool Aunt

   This picture on the other hand brings laughter. It reminds me of Emily’s junior year in high school when I took her and her best friend to Florida. On the way back, our car broke down. My nephew and his friends happened to be in Florida at the same time. He was about an hour behind us. When he came by he picked us up. He had room for five, but there were seven total. So, two boys volunteered to ride in the back of the truck, under the cover with the luggage. My nephew was driving, Emily and Anna sat in the front passenger side sharing the seat. I sat in the back with two teenage boys. To save gas, he drove with the windows down. My hair was covering my face from the wind. The one type of music I despise is rap. I had to listen to it from Florida all the way to Atlanta! I was really feeling my age. But I smiled when they said I was the “cool” aunt because I didn’t make them turn it off.

Halloween Memories

   Today was October 31. I have many pictures of past Halloweens. This year Tucker was a lion, and from the picture you can tell he wasn’t feeling so well. My brother Keith was with us when we went trick or treating. Tucker’s hot costume wasn’t helping any and making him feel worse. So my brother jumped out of the van and began “trick or treating” for soda crackers to soothe Tucker’s tummy. That’s also the year that the first house we visited, “Dracula” answered the door and Travis was so scared he wouldn’t get out of the car again. My nephew, Justin had to collect candy for him.

   Last Christmas I was trying to think of what to get Mamaw, who was 96 and surely didn’t need another robe. I decided to sneak an old picture and have it restored and framed for her. Rather than getting a studio type picture, I chose the one of Papaw and her sitting on the hood of his truck. He had passed away over twenty years ago. In the picture they were in their teens and full of life. As her wrinkled, arthritic hands unwrapped the gift, her eyes filled with tears. She said, “Oh, this isn’t a picture, it’s a memory,” and she proceeded to tell every detail about that day.    –Donna

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