My Dad

The man in this picture is a man of integrity...a man with a love for the Lord...a man of unconditional love...a man of loyalty....a man of hard work....a man of dedication....a man with a sense of humor...a man with a generous spirit....a man of patience...a man of quiet stubbornness....a man who loves to have a good time with family and friends....a man who is happy to help....a man who has a mischieveous twinkle in his eye....a man who is steadfast...a man who loves to teach and lead others...a family man....the maker of pancakes....the loose tooth puller....the bedtime story reader (he even does special voices)...the bike riding teacher and later .the teenage driving instructor (sorry for being a slow learner, Dad)...the Dad/Poppy/Popper/Pop who will rough house and wrestle with you (and sometimes get both or all of you into trouble)...the comforter of skinned knees and broken hearts....the one who reads National Geographic, watches the Discovery Channel and the History Channel and passed the love of those things onto me....the sports watcher....the man who loves "The Dirty Dozen" and "Kelly's Heroes" no matter how many times he sees those....the man who loves leading others in Bible study and teaching Sunday School....the man who loves being on the golf course or studying family history and genealogy....the man who loves a good joke and a corny one...the man you want on your Trivial Pursuit team....the man who will give you advice when asked, but never force it on you...the man whom I am blessed to call "Dad".  I love you, Dad!

Joy Comes In The Morning

The girls and I just arrived home from a wonderful week at Miramar Beach in Destin. This was a week with extended family, to celebrate my parents' 50th wedding anniversary later this year.  Instead of the traditional reception, they really wanted a week of family togetherness, with their 3 kids and families.  So those of us who could make it, hit the road to Florida.

I fully intended to blog daily while I was there, but we our cell phone reception and internet reception was spotty at best.  I can honestly say, that although I didn't like parts of being "unplugged" from the world, I found myself not missing it nearly as much as I thought I would have.

I would usually find myself downstairs by 7:30 or so each morning, and would take my cup of coffee to the deck and just sit....mesmerized by the sights and sounds of God's creation.  There is something so soothing about being on the beach, especially in the early hours or evening hours, when the crowds are sparse.


I found myself unplugging not just from the laptop and cellphone, but from my fears, wounds, worries and problems.  I found myself plugging into the simplicity of sitting on the deck, or down on the beach, and allowing myself to just "be still".

In addition to the fun and craziness of being with my family, I needed the respite from the worries and stresses that often keep me awake at night.  I needed a week where I could feel the embrace of familial love and healing.  God has brought me so far on the healing journey after my divorce.  There have been so many days when I just didn't know how to put one foot in front of the other.  But God's healing and grace, along with the support of love of my family and friends, and the counsel of some very wise and godly people have helped me along.

As I would sit and drink my coffee while watching the waves, I can honestly say that I can testify to God's promise in Psalms that "weeping may remain for a night, but rejoicing comes in the morning." There are still wounds, therefore still healing to be done.  But God has brought me to the place where I can feel the morning....the return of joy.

Memorial Day

Memorial Day, for so many of us, marks the beginning of our summer season.  However, it is so much more than a 3 day weekend...so much more than our first trip to the lake or pool...so much more than our first sunburn....so much more than a day at the ballpark or waterpark....so much more than the picnics, fireworks and food we will grill today.
We are able to enjoy all of these things because of the wonderful freedom we have to do so.  Our men and women in the military make so many sacrifices for us, and while I consider myself patriotic, I know that I, too, can be guilty of taking my freedom for granted, and not always being cognizant of those who have fought and sacrificed so that I am able to enjoy the small things in life....
So while I enjoy firing up the grill today, while I savor the fresh peaches over ice cream and the first watermelon of the season, while I enjoy my time with my girls and their friends...I am going to be more mindful and aware of the deep gratitude I have for our military.
Let's enjoy our day with friends and family....enjoy the burgers and hot dogs....enjoy the lake or pool...enjoy the ballgames or the war movies on tv today....and let's remember to say a prayer of thanks for those who have given so we may enjoy.

Forever and Always

In May 1988 I was celebrating my first Mother's Day as a mom. I remember my mother handing me a copy of this book "I'll Love You Forever" while we were standing in my Momo's living room in Atkins.  We had all gathered there on a Saturday in May. My parents had driven from Texas to Arkansas to celebrate Mother's Day with both of their own mothers.  We were living in Little Rock at that time, and made the drive to Atkins to spend a day with the family.  I remember being filled with pride and joy as we arrived in Atkins with my firstborn in my arms.  I also remember her being whisked away by all the women....my mom, grandmother, great-grandmother, aunts and my sister.  I probably didn't have her in my arms again until the first dirty diaper of the day. 

I don't remember what gift I had for my mom on that particular Mothers Day, but I do remember her giving me this book.  And I remember reading the book over and over to my daughter, Casie, and then years later, to my daughter, Lindsey.  It's a wonderful story about the unconditional love a mother has for her child.  But it's so much more than a story written for children.  It's really a story written ABOUT mothers, how they love their children, and how that love, so unconditional and strong, is returned to them.

The verse that is repeated throughout the story is:

I'll love you forever,
I'll like you for always,
As long as I'm living
my baby you'll be. 

I always felt that from my mom.  I've never doubted that her love is a "forever and always" kind of love for me.  But I truly had no idea of the depth of that love until I became a mother myself.  And on that Mothers Day weekend in May, when my mom handed me that book, and I read it, I remember tears welling up in my eyes, and I got it.  Even though I had only been a mother for a few short months, I already knew that I would love this child (and her sister years later) unconditionally.  I had already experienced the feeling of "I can't possibly love this much" to realizing my love, already so big, was continuing to grow each and every day.  When I was pregnant with my second child, the wellspring of motherly love simply continued to grow deeper still.

One of the sweetest parts about this book, is that no matter whether the child is a sweet baby, terrible toddler, mischievous child, rebellious teenager, or self absorbed adult...the mother still wants to rock the child and hold him in her arms.  And the funny part of the book is her climbing into his window when he's asleep, and doing just that.  There are fewer things more precious than being held in  your mother's arms, or holding  your own children in your arms.  Once you've experienced that deep nurturing feeling of a mother's arms, you don't even have to be geographically close to feel those arms around you.  I can feel my mother's embrace being several hundred miles away.  I have friends who have lost their mothers who can still feel that embrace.

The book ends with the grown man climbing into his aging mother's window one night, holding her in his arms and singing that song to her that she sang to him.  The love and the embrace come full circle.

Casie and Lindsey...I hope you know my love for each of you  is forever and always.

Thank you Mom, for all the love and embracing.  I hope you feel it coming back to you full circle and even more.

I hope that everyone feels that embrace...whether you are with your mother or not.  She loves you forever.

Grand Ladies

It’s only a couple of days from Mother’s Day, and I’ve been doing alot of reflecting on the women in my life. I plan on writing more about this and my own mother in the next day or so.



Today I want to take a minute to honor the “grand” ladies in my life. I came into the world with a “Ma” (one great great grandmother), a “Momo” (great grandmother), a “Mama May” (another great grandmother), a “Mimi” (grandmother) and a “Gran’mom (grandmother). Was I doted on by a small army of women??? You bet!

I never really knew “Ma”, she passed away before I got the chance. My Mama May, Momo, and Mimi all lived in the small town of Atkins. My Gran’mom lived in Russellville and then Little Rock. My feisty Gran’mom lives in my hometown of Grand Prairie, Texas now…just a few minutes from Mom and Dad. Sadly, all the others have passed. Fortunately for me, I am blessed with a treasure chest of memories, feminine strength and grit, and lots of love.

We all have stories of the people who have touched us. Just like yours, mine are stories filled with both tragedy and joy, failures and successes, strengths and weaknesses, solemnity and humor, and I am blessed to say “a whole lotta love”.

I’ve had times in life where I’ve had to be strong and “pull myself up by the bootstraps” so to speak. I totally give God the credit for any strength I have had when I didn’t think I could go on; but God has also used the legacy of women in my life to remind me of the strength I come from. Between them, they are women who survived illnesses, the Great Depression, and World Wars. These are women who survived the death of a child, which no one should have to do; who struggled to feed their families, but did; who survived job losses and crop losses; who survived raising a family while their husband was overseas fighting in a war. These are women whose hands have picked cotton, planted gardens, crocheted slippers for about a hundred great grandchildren, who have quilted, who have nursed the sick for generations, who have sewn, who have crafted, who have made homemade pie crusts and biscuits, who have run a business, worked in a factory, driven across country, milked cows, given many spanking and even more hugs, who have turned the pages of treasured books and their well worn Bibles.

These are also the women who while being incredibly strong, have given me some of the most tender moments….dipping orange sherbet into a bowl on a hot summer’s day, making my favorite meal of chicken and dumplins when I came for a visit, playing with me and reading to me when I was little, letting me “sit in” on a quilting bee when I was young (and with my very own quilting square), clapping whenever I sang ANY song at all (and no matter how off key that might be), listening to me talk about boys, teaching me to shell purple hull peas, making my favorite oatmeal cookies, driving from Arkansas to Texas to see me in ballgames, concerts, recitals or plays.

I wish I could share all the stories that are so precious and dear, but time and space do not allow. But a tiny peek into their worlds….two of these matriarchs would go fishing together and impress their families with their “catch”. The funny part is, they would secretly stop by a fish market after a day of not even having a nibble on their poles and bring home their fish….presented, I’m sure, with a twinkle in their mischievous eyes. One had an elderly man come visit her in the hospital during her final days to pay his respects, because as a young boy he stopped by the store she ran, and she would give him a Baby Ruth candy bar each day, knowing he had no money. Her kindness was emblazoned in his memory. Another, drove twin infant boys from Florida to New Jersey in the hot summer of 1942, while her husband was away in a war. She had a clothes line stretched across the inside of the car where she would hang the cloth diapers to dry, and she stopped at a farm once to milk a cow and pasteurized the milk herself to feed to her boys when she ran out of milk on the way.

These are the women who taught my parents how to love and parent, who in turn taught me to love and parent. I am grateful and I am blessed.