Kindness: Always Stay Humble and Kind- by Donna

They say opposites attract. I’m not so sure I believe that, but in my daddy and mama’s case, it was true. Their personalities couldn’t have been any more different. My mama was a loving, feisty spit fire. My daddy was a patient, laid back, funny man. I have always said I am 99% my daddy and 1% my mama. I am like my daddy; But, I don’t think I can live up to the size of his big, kind, humble and selfless heart.

My daddy loved to tell stories and laugh. He had a southern drawl and North Georgia mountain vocabulary like few I’ve ever known. I loved to hear him retell the story of when the tractor ran over him. “I knew I’z in trouble when that there tire runned over me. It sounded plum like a hound dog crunchin’ on a possum. I mean to tell you; I hear’d my bones a crunchin’. 

All Smiles

Daddy was such a smart, talented man; he could fix or build anything. Alzhimer’s eventually took that ability away, but it never took his grin or joy. He continued to be a happy man and wore a smile most of the time. When he entered the nursing home, the staff commented how they loved him because he was always joking with them. During weekend visits at the home, we all had tears from laughing running down our faces. My favorite quote is “a day without laughter is a wasted day”. Humor has always abounded in my family; I am thankful my parents passed down their sense of wittiness. 

At his funeral the pastor said, “Whenever I saw him coming, he always had that “Kenneth grin”. As he entered the hospital, which unexpectedly became the last week of his life, he continued to smile. The day before he left us, a nurse came in and said, “I never got to be your dad’s nurse, but I once came in briefly to assist a coworker. When we moved him, he grimaced from the pain, but after, he looked at me, smiled, and said “thank you. He is the most pleasant man.”

Kind Heart

My daddy also had a big heart. He was perpetually kind: always helping others, expecting nothing in return, and never wanting recognition. He was always ready, willing, and able to assist many widows from church. Free of charge, he cleaned gutters, raked leaves, and did repairs. He even drove one widow to and from her colonoscopy! (See blog: Only Human).

I was at the hospital for his last five days. Covid made things more difficult. I wore a drape, face mask, shield, and gloves, even when sleeping in the chair. With Corona restrictions, I found myself alone with daddy for his last two days. I listened to the constant beeps of machines and the sound of daddy breathing.

Every day the doctor would come in. At first it was always, “It won’t be much longer.” But, daddy’s heart continued to stay solid. The last three times the doctor came in, he would simply state, “That is one strong man”. 

Saturday Nights

Daddy was a hard worker. When not working at the Ford plant, he was outside laboring in the garden or restoring a car. But Saturday evenings were spent with us. My mind drifted to Saturdays long ago. He always washed and waxed the car, so it would be shiny and clean for church the next day. We often helped or washed our bikes beside him. Saturday’s supper was either T-bone steaks, homemade fries, and salad or Chef Boyardee pizza made by me.

We would then all go into the den and watch Hee Haw. After the blonde girl waved saying, “That’s All!”, he would get out his Kiwi shoe shine kit and “get to rubbin” his church shoes until they beamed. Meanwhile, mama rolled my hair with pink sponge rollers. Daddy was not one to read, but every Saturday night, he studied his Sunday School lesson.

When it was time for bed on Saturdays, he would get out the oversized Children’s Bible and let us pick a story. My two brothers and I got in one bed while he read the chosen selection. If it were my turn to pick, I would once again pick Daniel in the Lion’s Den.

When the story was over, we would go to our own beds, and he would tuck each of us in. Daddy would lie down beside me while I said my bedtime prayers. I had to sleep with a vaporizer a lot, but even with it on, I could hear him breathe. I think he occasionally dozed off from the long week of work. Then he’d kiss my forehead and whisper, “Good night, Donnie Boo.” 

As my mind drifted back, I noticed his breaths had become a little labored. He began inhaling and exhaling through his mouth. Now normally, that loud noise might grate on my nerves, but as I curled up in the chair to sleep, I found it comforting. It took me back to those Saturday nights of my childhood. I drifted off to the sound of his breathing, not knowing it would be my last night with him.

Strong Heart

During the next day, I sat in the chair reading a book and grading some tests. Later in the evening while texting a friend, I noticed the rhythm of his breath began to change, so I watched the monitor. His blood pressure and oxygen were going down quickly. A nurse walking by, noticed me standing over him with concerned eyes and entered the room. With a trembling voice I managed to ask, “Is he near passing?” 

She looked at the monitor, “Normally I’d say yes, but although his oxygen and pressure are dropping, his heart rate is still 121. He has a strong heart.”

When she left, I sat down on his bed and watched. The numbers kept going down, but his heart stayed steady. Then it happened. It began dropping too; 90, 89, 88…. At that moment the reality of being alone hit me. It was the loneliest I had ever felt in my life. 

“I don’t want to be here alone.” I texted my friend.

His response was: “You’re not alone. God has chosen you to be there”.

I realized the magnitude of that last statement. I was given the privilege of being with my daddy as he was going home. As I sat down on the bed beside him, I felt at peace. 

Take my Hand

Daddy’s favorite music were hymns, bluegrass, and old country. So, I clicked my Pandora app and selected the Statler Brothers station. I placed my phone on the pillow by his ear. Remarkably, the first song that began to play was Take My Hand, Precious Lord. Sometimes God seems so hidden, but other times He makes His presence clearly known to me. Not only was that the perfect song for the occasion, but it is what was already engraved on his and mama’s headstone. I took off my glove and rubbed his arm as I watched the oxygen and respirations flatline. His pulse was still 80. 

God always knows what I need. As the song ended, my all time favorite, Carrie Underwood’s version of How Great Thou Art, began to play. During this song, I watched his pulse slowly go down, down, down, until it ceased. 

I wasn’t surprised it took so long for his heart to give up; it was always the strongest, biggest part of him. 

Humble and Kind

Recently, I heard the song, Humble and Kind by Tim McGraw. Daddy came to mind. I can just hear him saying so many of these lyrics:

Hold the door, say “please”, say “thank you”

Don’t steal, don’t cheat, and don’t lie

I know you got mountains to climb

But always stay humble and kind

When the dreams you’re dreamin’ come to you

When the work you put in is realized

Let yourself feel the pride

But always stay humble and kind

Don’t expect a free ride from no one

Don’t hold a grudge or a chip and here’s why

Bitterness keeps you from flyin’

Always stay humble and kind

Don’t take for granted the love this life gives you

When you get where you’re goin’ 

Don’t forget turn back around

And help the next one in line

Always stay humble and kind.

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God’s Hands: Only Human–by Donna

A few months ago I was eating lunch at my daddy’s house. I glanced over at his hands. What is wrong with his hands! Are they swollen? Those are not my daddy’s hands. As I ate, I worried that something was physically wrong with him.  Last July he was diagnosed with Alzheimers. But physically he was in good shape to be almost 79.

Then suddenly it hit me. Those hands are not the hands of the daddy I have known all my life.They were smooth and clean. My daddy has always been a worker. He was a mechanic at the Ford Motor Plant for 48 years. In his spare time, he had a huge garden and restored antique cars and trucks. A Jack-of-all-trades sums him up. If we needed anything, he usually did it himself. Whether it was new shingles on the roof, a burst water pipe, or a new set of brakes; he could do it. He also used his hands to serve others. In fact at 76, he was still climbing roofs and cleaning out gutters of several widowed woman at church. His hands even drove a widow to a colonoscopy appointment. He said, “I really didn’t want to, but I couldn’t tell her no; she didn’t have anybody else to take her.”

For years my daddy had black under his nails. His fingers and hands were cracked and calloused. It wasn’t that he was unclean; he scrubbed with LAVA soap before eating. But the years of physical labor couldn’t always be washed away. 

He is now unable to do all the things he could before. Sometimes the hands that held a wrench, drove a tractor, or rebuilt an entire car, can not fasten a simple button. I am sadly aware that someday his hands will cease to gasp at all. And at some point, he may not even remember I’m his Donnie-Boo.

Change

Over the last three years I have experienced a lot of change. During this time, while reading the Bible, the two words Lord (God) and hands appeared many times together. I recently Googled it and discovered they appear over 100 times.

Our heavenly Father will never let go, will never forget our name and will always be there. I am thankful for my earthly daddy’s hands I have had for all these years. His hands held the Children’s Bible from which he read a story each Saturday night. They removed his cap and placed it on his knee when he sat at the table to eat. His hands faithfully held my mama for over 44 years.

But, my daddy’s hands have changed because as good as they are, he is only human. There is no greater comfort than Our Lord’s hands.

Psalm 73:23 “Nevertheless I am continually with you; you have taken hold of my right hand.”

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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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Daddy’s Instructions: Really?! -By Donna

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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