Bittersweet Memories

It has been a long time since I posted a blog.  Time seem to get away, as it has a tendency to do to all of you, from me.

One of the earliest memories of my grandparents was one Christmas when my parents and I stayed at their house on Christmas Eve.  The next morning there was a footprint in the ashes of the fireplace; I knew that footprint was evidence Santa Claus had brought the tricycle that stood under the tree to me. 

Over the years as our family grew, each Christmas we would gather at Granny's and Granddaddy's house with wrapped gifts for the tree.  We celebrated birthdays at their house and Sunday dinners.  Sunday dinners consisted of fried chicken and home canned green beans, hot biscuits, gravy, banana pudding, and cake.  Mama made the chocolate cake.  As I tell you about these gatherings and meals, I can feel the atmosphere of family.  We were strong on laughter.  My cousins and I enjoyed each other's company which included expanding families with new husbands, new wives, new babies, and new lives.

The first Christmas after my grandfather passed away, my grandmother didn't want to celebrate it. My cousins Debbie and Renee, along with my my sister, Sherry went to her house to "talk her into Christmas."  Those young ladies were pretty persuasive! We had Christmas at Granny's! However, the atmosphere hung thick with the emptiness of not having Granddaddy sitting in the rocker, smiling at all his family, but we all agreed we were so happy to have our tradition of Christmas.  This tradition carried forward until my grandmother was diagnosed with cancer.  She passed away January 1, 1994 at the age of 84.  My grandfather died at the age of 67. This seems young now that I am only three short years away from being 67 years old.

My memories of the years between 1948 and 1994 always include Granny and Granddaddy. They worked hard.  My grandmother would set the clock fifteen minutes fast so my granddaddy would not be late for work at Schnadig (International Furniture Company).  He worked there until retirement. Sure he knew the clock was fast, but I think it was a game he played with Granny.  She would have breakfast ready and he would eat and he didn't seem to be in a hurry to leave the house for work, and all the while Granny would be saying, "Ed, you're gonna be late."  I don't think he ever was.

Granny loved flowers and her garden.  She and my Aunt Mildred would plant, hoe, gather, and can the bounty from that garden. After Granny died, she left behind boxes of canned green beans.  The Golly Green Giant would have been proud!

Once we all went camping in Panama City, Florida.  Granddaddy decided he wanted a pair of shorts to stay cool.  Granny wouldn't wear them then.  Years later on another trip to Florida, she decided she would get her a pair and wear.  She liked her Florida shorts (Granddaddy would have enjoyed her adventurous side).  Didn't wear them at home, but always when she traveled to the beach. I hope I can find their pictures to share with you all.  Granny might not like it, but I think she would eventually find the humor in sharing them. Granddaddy wouldn't care. He would just smile that crooked smile.

Granny taught me how to plant tomato plants and make turkey dressing for Thanksgiving.  Mama taught me the art of canning green beans, but I still don't like to do it, so I will admit, we don't have home canned green beans.

Growing up with family surrounding you was special.  We farmed back in the 1950s.  I sound like I was a hard worker. I guess since Granny made me a small cotton pick sack to sling on my shoulder when all the women worked one cotton season picking cotton, that I qualify as a farmer. I hope you saw my picture on the tractor with my granddaddy.  Does that make me a farmer?  I would like to think so; however, I didn't like to work in the garden.  That was hard work.

 I did my fair share of what we called "stringing beans." Some people would call this "snapping" beans.  We always had to make sure we had the ends off to pull the string from the beans before we broke them into smaller pieces.  Each person had newspaper spread in his or her lap for the beans that were to be de-stringed.  (Is that a word?) Then we left the strings and ends in our laps and threw our broken beans into a common metal dishpan for washing and later cooking. So many family came to help that there were so many of us working together on summer evenings, we had to have several pans so we could sit in a circle under the shade tree and still reach a pan. Now as I tell you about it, it sounds fun. The talking and fellowship was fun, the work was not.  It was work.

If you have followed my blog, you can guess that within this short story are many insights into life just waiting to be shared.  In those years between 1948 and 1994, there were many, many lessons that I was fortunate to learn at the feet of some extraordinary folks.  This is just the beginning.  The old rooster story of this "farmer" is definitely for another day.

Sometimes I think I would love to go back for a day and relive that time, but I would have to go through the heartache of losing our loved ones again.  No, like the song says, "I couldn't live there anymore."

It is me, again, Lord, thanking you for the bittersweet memories that shape the person I am today.

A little Georgia Wisdom:  Savor even the small moments in life. It is those moments that adds the flavor to your character.

Hog Killin' Weather

Reading a post on our family web site written by my cousin Lynn brought back a lot of memories. I remember when it was hog killing weather which was usually winter when it was really cold outside.  It was an all day affair to process the hog, but everyone around would help. 

Me and my grandaddy, Edgar Loudermilk

 I have seen Granny can sausages. She and Granddaddy had a smoke house in which they hung the salted hams.   I don't remember them ever smoking the hams, but we still called it the smoke house.

Mama use to fry pork and after she took up the meat she would pour  hot coffee into the grease and make "red-eye gravy" which we poured over a biscuit.

One time Daddy had killed a hog and there was all this fresh pork.   Mama had been cooking and eating this fresh meat during the day, and during the night had a gall bladder attack.   She had to have major surgery.   She almost died from the combination of a highly infected gall bladder and the surgery, and it was triggered from all the fresh pork.

One of my favorite meals is fried fat back, small green onions, green beans, tomatoes, cucumbers and cornbread with fresh butter on the cornbread.   Add some fried potatoes and you have a meal fit for a king.

Wonderful memories of a time when we grew and processed our own food.  I would have no idea how to process the meat the way my parents and grandparents did.  Good thing we have a grocery store near by.

The "good old days" really means the "hard working days."  So thankful we don't have to depend on my knowledge of agriculture and food preservation.  My family would starve to death.

It is me again, Lord, thank you for the good memories of a time long ago.

A little Georgia Wisdom:  When you are given opportunities to have experiences or learn from your elders, make sure you don't walk away empty handed. 

Dreaming About Mama

The weather is more like spring than winter.  The little jonquil and daffodil blooms have already opened here in the North Georgia Mountains.  This makes me feel like spring has arrived.  Spring makes me miss Mama even more.  It was in Spring that she went home to be with our Lord, Jesus Christ.

I dream about Mama.  I have been dreaming about her on a regular basis since she died.  I want to sit and talk to her.  In my dreams the coffee pot is either brewing, or we are just putting on the pot.  She is not sick in my dreams.  The sad part of my dream is that she and I don't sit down and talk.  Isn't that strange?  One would think that I would be sitting with her, drinking coffee, laughing, and talking.

Maybe my dreams are really trying to tell me something.  Mama and I had unfinished business together. 

If your parents are still with you, clear the air of unfinished business before they are gone.  I always wanted my mama to be proud of me and my accomplishments, but I don't think she was.  I made mistakes in my personal life that haunted my relationship with my mom. The Lord has forgiven me, but I have a hard time forgiving myself.  Do you ever feel that way?  It is harder to forgive one's self than to forgive others.  

It is me again, Lord, thanking you for forgiveness even when I can't forgive myself.

A little Georgia Wisdom:  Make sure you tell loved ones how you feel.  It's good for the soul.

That's My Daddy

I have written about my daddy before, but he was such an unusual man, one writing can't contain the love I had, and still have, for him.

Daddy had a saying for just about everything.  Folks would stop by, and if he had not been feeling well, he was "under the weather" (sick) or he was "Fair to middlin'" (feeling fine, but not great) this was also a term used for a certain grade of cotton.

One day I asked Daddy if he was hungry, "Yes, my stomach thinks my throat's been cut."

I find myself using old sayings and idioms.  My Hispanic students probably don't have a clue to what I am saying.  I have been trying to break this habit of mine, but it is a hard one to break.  I grew up with Daddy.

One day, about a year before my daddy passed away, he and I were sitting in the car waiting for my brother and sister to come out of a furniture store.  Two very large ladies came out.  Daddy, in a soft and thoughtful voice said, "If those two ladies are told to haul butt, they are already loaded."  Yes, that was my dad.

I miss that man.  Lord knows he was hard to get along with sometimes. We had our share of disagreements, but I sure did love him.  Growing up it seemed like I was closer to my mom.  But the year after Mama died, Daddy and I got closer.  I wanted Daddy to be there when I retired so we could go places together.  God had other plans for him.  Daddy missed my mama; he missed Uncle Buford; He missed Uncle Tim.  All three passed away within a few months of each other. In November the year before these three died,  his brother, Uncle Clyde, died.  Those deaths, so close together, really touched Daddy.

When we pray for healing for our loved ones, and they don't get better like we want, one must remember this:  The person we are praying to get better may be praying for God to take them home. 

It is me again, Lord, thanking you for the wonderful memories of my dad.

A little Georgia Wisdom:  Don't get angry with God when a loved one passes and you feel your prayers weren't answered.  God may have answered your loved one's prayers instead.

Ouch! It Was Cozy

The best smell in the world is early morning breakfast with Mama cooking. Some how, no matter how cold outside, the house felt warm inside just by breathing the smell of coffee, biscuits, gravy, and coco syrup. Growing up we had just one heater to heat the whole house, but then Mama would start cooking breakfast, you knew that it would be warm and cozy in our house.

As the house grew from three rooms, when I was small, to the six bedrooms. Each of us had a morning ritual getting up. Mine was to go stand in front of the gas space heater and pull my gown up to warm by bottom in front of the heater. One day our little dog was in front of the heater and I made a mistake of getting between the dog and the heater. I accidently stepped on her tail, she yelped, and I jumped back and touched my legs on the hot metal. Ouch! I had a small burned place on the back of my legs that matched the small metal safety rails on the space heater.

Years later after the upper floor was added and the space heater was history, brother Eddie would come down the steps and sit down in front of the heating vent to get warm and talk to Mama from the stairs.

We had a loved filled home growing up. I miss those days, but I don't miss the gas space heater.

It's me again, Lord, thanking you for wonderful memories of my childhood.

A little Georgia Wisdom:  If if comes down to you or the dog, let the dog have the space in front of the fire.  The scar lasts a very long time.

Are You in Your Mission Field?

Take a minute and think about this particular stage of  your life?  Are you doing something you really love to do?  Do you look forward to each day? Are you retired?  If you are retired, how do you spend your time?  You just may be in your mission field.

Years ago I thought God was calling me to the mission field; however, I was too young to realize that I could ever be a missionary.  I certainly was not good enough, and I certainly didn't have the Bible knowledge that a missionary would need.  I was female.  I had never been away from home.  The excuses were always ready whenever the thought of being a missionary would go through my head.

Years passed and the tug at my heart faded.  I moved away from God.  God never once left my side.

My life had very strange twists and turns, heartaches (many heartaches), I made a lot of  wrong decisions.  I couldn't focus on a future, I lived one day at a time.

One day I found myself in a position with two small children and a poor economy which had taken my job. I believe this to be one of the low points of my life.  I had two choices.  I could feel sorry for myself and blame God for my misfortune, or I could do something constructive about my situation.  I chose to stop living without a tomorrow and to begin looking toward the future. 

My children and me in better days.

I evaluated my options.  I had absolutely no money.  I was drawing unemployment, and I was actively looking for a job. I had a lot of time left over in the day.  With prayer for strength, I made a tough decision.  I would go to school.  I would go to Piedmont College!  This is where you are shaking your head and thinking I have lost mine.  No money and going to school?  How do you intend to accomplish this, you are asking yourself.  Right?

The longest walk was the steps going up to the front door of Daniel Hall.  I had parked across the street from the school and took the flight of steps.  This became symbolic of the road ahead of me.  It began with the first step and kept going upward as I worked toward my goal.

The Registrar's Office was on my left as I came through the front door of Daniel Hall.  I went through the door to his secretary and said simply, "I want to go to school, but I have no money.  Where is the Financial Aid Office?"  Instead of telling me where it was, she took me there.

The gentlemen who worked there were attentive, and I left with a handful of financial aid forms.  As the years have passed, my advice to all students has been, "always complete financial aid forms, you never know what you might qualify for, and all you have invested is the time it takes to complete the form."  The time it took to complete the forms was a major investment in my future.  I qualified for grants!  Yes, grants!  I didn't have to pay them back!  God was moving me closer to a mission field that I had excused my self from over ten years earlier. I did not recognize He was moving me closer to His original plan.

I was able to start Piedmont College the fall of 1975!  Education was my goal!

The road wasn't easy.  There were obstacles. Lots of obstacles!  Keeping a focus on my goal was not easy. God walked with me even when I thought He had forgotten me.  God never leaves us; we leave Him.

Graduation from Piedmont College, a goal that I had set for myself. With the help of my mother, who kept my children so that I never had to worry about them, and the wonderful hand of God, I had reached my goal of a college diploma.

Graduation from Piedmont College

Years later I realized that God had put me in the middle of a mission field.  The classroom.  I was teaching.  I was working with teenagers, and loving every minute of it! Now you are saying, "Whoa!"  Public school in America is not a mission field!"

A mission field is where God sends you.  It is up to you to develop that field.  Public school in America is not a traditional mission field, but the American Civil Liberties Union (ACLU) can't regulate your personal spirit: The spirit of your smile; your spirit of compassion; your spirit of giving; your spirit of love for one another, and they certainly cannot regulate the spirit of love the students show toward their teachers.  One does not have to quote scripture to show the love of Jesus Christ each day.

Where is your mission field?  We greet each day with a mission in life.  We were given this mission by Jesus when He said for us to love one another.  Are you working in your mission field today?

It is me again, Lord, thanking you for not giving up on me when I was giving you excuses for why I could never be a missionary.

A little Georgia Wisdom:  If you are not happy where you are in life, maybe you are not following God's plan for you.  Take time to find out what God's plan is for your life.  You will enjoy the outcome.

CHRISTmas

"Silver Bells, Silver Bells, it's Christmas time in the city..."

It is that time of year when we rush around trying to buy the perfect gift for that special someone.  In our rushing we become irritated; tired; and just plain mean,  Yes, I said mean.

People push and bump each other trying to fill their shopping carts with decorations and presents.  Babies cry because they are tired and hungry.  Mama is trying to get home where she will cook, clean-up, decorate, and wrap presents. 

Wait!  It is Christmas!  It is a joyous time of the year.  Where is our Christmas Spirit?  Surely we didn't leave it at the store.

Christmas stories on the television show beautifully decorated houses, plenty of goodies that Mama had time to make and still get her shopping completed.  The snow is falling outside and a warm inviting fire burns in the fireplace.  Awww.  The perfect Christmas; however, our lives are not Christmas stories.  They are real lives where we get very tired; and sometimes, we lose our Christmas Spirit!

If you have lost your Christmas Spirit, just listen to a child.  Gracie just told me,  "That it was CHRISTmas.  That's the way I learned it," she said.  Out of the mouths of babes...

Children can bring us back to the reality of what we are celebrating.  Jesus' birthday.

Thank you Gracie for reminding me that we are preparing to celebrate the birth of Jesus.  This isn't about the decorations or the presents.  It is about the Christ Child born in a manager in Bethlehem.

It is me again, Lord, thanking You for Your Birth, Your Death, and Your Resurrection.

A little Georgia Wisdom:  If you are having a difficult time getting your decorations, your shopping, your Christmas planning together, just stop and remember the real reason we celebrate Christmas.


MERRY CHRISTMAS EVERYONE!