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! 

Uncle Hollis Barters Cane Syrup



William and Lena Ward Smith Family
At the funeral of Uncle Mickey Broome

 My grandfather, William Smith, passed away a few months before my daddy, Billy, was born.  He was the youngest.  Grandpa Smith asked his eldest son, Hollis, (the one on the left) who was just 18 years old to care for the family when he was gone.  Their mother died from cancer when Billy was just a year old. 

This is just one of the many stories which defines the tough stock of a Georgia mountain family in the late 1920s.  Theirs is the story of brothers and sisters caring and loving their younger siblings in a time of a Great Depression.

Daddy often told about carrying cane syrup and cornbread to school for lunch in a lard bucket. This was all the food they had at that time; but, one family had even less than they did.   They didn't have syrup only the cornbread.   The children went home from school one day and told Uncle Hollis how this family didn't have anything to eat.

Uncle Hollis didn't want to embarrass the folks by giving them what might be mistaken for a handout.   Southern folks, especially mountain folks, are a proud people and Uncle Hollis respected this.

Uncle Hollis carried jars of cane syrup that he had made in the fall over to this family.   Instead of giving it to them, he asked if he could supply them in syrup in exchange for their help in preparing his fields for planting in the spring. (This is an example of the barter system in place during the lean times.)  The gentlemen said he would be glad to help him by breaking-up the field in the spring and that the syrup was fair payment.

Winter warmed into spring, and Uncle Hollis had forgotten about the deal with his neighbor. One day after spring arrived, the neighbor and his sons were out in Uncle Hollis' field, breaking-up the ground and getting it ready for plowing and planting.  

Mountain people knew how to help each other and allow a person to retain his/her dignity.   Uncle Hollis was certainly a very smart and caring man.



Making syrup: Uncle Hollis  (the little boy is my dad, Billy) With Uncle Buford and Uncle Clyde


Uncle Hollis passed away in 1966; he was like a grandfather to me.   I still miss him.

He has been gone a long time, but his legacy lives on.

Cousin Barbara whose dad was my Uncle Clyde, another younger sibling who looked up to his older brother, said, "I think that Uncle Hollis and Aunt Emma did such a wonderful job of raising their siblings after they were left orphaned, and they instilled such good family values into their lives.   But I can say one thing for sure, my dad (Clyde) never lost his taste for cornbread and home made cane syrup.   That remained a staple for him his entire life, and would go to great lengths to find the "real" stuff when he could find it.. He also loved cornbread and milk or fresh buttermilk.

Uncle Hollis, Uncle Clyde, and Uncle Buford (the young boys) My dad is the youngest one.
Uncle Clyde remembered that the horse's name was Rhody.  This picture was made in the 1930s.

It is me again, Lord, thanking you for men and women like Uncle Hollis, Aunt Emma, Aunt Zadie, and Uncle Clarence who were not afraid to rise to the challenge of taking care of their younger brothers and sisters.

A little Georgia Wisdom:  A family, whose faith in God and His son Jesus, can do all things through Christ from whom they receive their strength.   This family gave their faith as the foundation for being able to keep this family together.



He Wore Prisoner's Pajamas, A Sister's Faith

One never knows how history will touch the future.

It was the winter of 1968, I was a nineteen year old working in the office of the local furniture factory. My office manager and boss was Mildred Hill. One day she came in with a map of Vietnam and pointed to an area on the map where the helicopter carrying her brother, Ben Purcell, had been shot down. He was declared missing in action.



Vietnam, 1968



Mildred confided in us that she knew, without a doubt, he was alive. She had dreamed the night before that he had come to her wearing the pajama like clothing and crude sandals of the Viet Cong. He sat down on the edge of her bed. He revealed to her in this dream that he was alive, and things were going to be okay. Mildred never gave up hope and kept the faith that he would one day return home.

With the dedication of Anne Purcell, Colonel Purcell's wife, his status was changed from Missing in Action to Prisoner of War.

For five years Mildred wrote letters, made phone calls, made a trip with Anne  to the Geneva Convention to seek information about her brother. She and Anne never gave up hope. The only assurance Mildred had was her dream in 1968. She would never give in to the fear that he might be lost.

In March, 1973, five years after his capture, the war in Vietnam was over. POWs were being released and among them, Colonel Ben Purcell. He had been a prisoner of war for five years with 58 months in solitary confinement. He had tried to escape on two different occasions. He was interrogated, tortured, and yet, he stood firm against the Viet Cong.

There was a local parade for our hometown hero. One of the most memorable moments is when every employee of Schnadig Furniture Company, Cornelia, Georgia came out to the highway to welcome home our hero, Ben Purcell.

There is no way to convey to you the pride of knowing this soldier had returned home. There were lots of tears that day for our hero. His sister, Mildred, never gave up hope and her positive attitude and faith kept people praying for this MIA /POW soldier we didn't know except through her reports.

Mildred had worked long and hard to get information about her brother, Ben, and now here he was alive and well waving to all of us from the back of a convertible.

Patriotism runs in deep in Habersham County. During this time period, many of the young men with whom I graduated high school were serving in Vietnam. We have the names of our heroes who didn't make it home engraved on a monument outside the courthouse in Clarkesville. Their names are also engraved on a polished black granite wall in Washington, D.C.

I was honored on 11-11-11 to sit at the table with Colonel Ben Purcell and his lovely wife, Anne. I related this story of the faith her sister-in-law had for his return. Anne gave me permission to tell this story of hope and the faith she and Mildred Hill had for Colonel Purcell's return.



Colonel Ben and Anne Purcell





Colonel and Anne Purcell have written a book, Love and Duty.  .  Each tell a story of the faith each had for his return.



It is me again, Lord, thanking you for the men and women who dedicate themselves to protecting our great nation and her people. We thank you for faithful family members who never give up hope and put their faith in You. We thank You for the lesson that began in 1968 to never give up hope and always keep the faith.

A little Georgia Wisdom: Take a moment to remember the sacrifices of men and women who served or who are now serving in our armed forces. Attend a Veteran's Day celebration or attend a memorial service to remember those who gave the ultimate price so we can remain a free nation. Shake hands with a veteran and tell him or her how much he or she is appreciated. God bless them all.

Camping in Broom Straw



Bruce and me

 Just by the title you are ahead of me, aren't you?  My cousin Bruce and I loved the outdoors.  We loved to roam the fields around the house and play in the red Georgia clay.  You can imagine what we looked like at the end of the day.  My brother Dwayne and his brother Earl were right there with us playing; however, when this story takes place both of them were too young to be involved.

Bruce and I had huge imaginations.  Everything had multiple personalities and uses.  The old silver propane gas tank in the back yard was a horse we rode on trail rides or across country in a wagon train; it was an elephant the time we went on a safari across Africa.  The may pops that grew in the yards and fields could be crafted into various cars, wagons, baskets, and bowls.  They were some times used as food items when we cooked on the stove made from bricks and small board placed across them with the tin lids from Chase & Sanborn Coffee cans (these cans were useful when we all shared our chocolate "candy" and peppermint chewing gum) nailed for stove eyes.

One day he and I decided to go camping.  It is at this point I should tell you that this was out in the country.  We didn't have to worry about strange people being around every corner. It someone had stopped to pick us up we were so covered with red dirt that they would not have allowed us a ride in the car.

I still remember Mama scrubbing our clothes in a washtub and wringer washing machine.  She had to really scrub my panties to get the dirt out.  I probably had red dirt stains on everything I owned as a child.

The day Bruce and I decided to camp it was a hot summer day.  His mother, my Aunt Opal was at work.  Mama was taking care of Earl, Dwayne, and my baby brother Eddie.  I don't remember where Bruce's sister Barbara was that day, but she was not with us.  Bruce and I had no supervision.  Of course, up to this point we didn't need any.

How do you light a wood stove?  Every home had a box of wooden matches near the stove.  We got a few to take with us from his house and began our camping journey. 

Behind his house was field of broom straw.  We played in it all the time and it just seemed like the place to camp.  We cleared us a spot to set up our camp.  We didn't need much room.  All we needed was a place for the two of us to sit and build our campfire.

We carefully built our fire from the broom straw we has pulled up for our campsite.  Bruce lit the fire.  I was afraid of the fire on the end of the match. Now, I am not blaming him for starting the fire; I am just letting you know the reason I didn't.  I am just a guilty as Bruce.  Remember we are in this together.

As the fire caught on, it began to spread to the surrounding broom straw.  The smoke rose above the field and we were taking broom straw to try to beat out the fire we had started.  The smoke rose, and we made a vow to not tell anyone about our misfortune.  The more we tried to stop the fire, the more it got out of hand.



 


To this day I do not remember who helped us put it out, but someone help save that whole field of broom straw.  Bruce may remember the details, I remember the fire. It was by the grace of God that the fire went away from Bruce's house.  I'm sure we were punished. 

It is me again, Lord, thanking you again for saving two well meaning children from a fire.

A little Georgia Wisdom:  Make sure you teach your children to stay away from matches and tell them to never try to put out a fire by themselves.


Thanks to Barbara, Bruce's sister for the photo.  You can see the fields behind the house.