An Inadequate Attempt

How in the world do I pay tribute to this person I call "mother"? The one who physically carried me for nine months...who delivered me alone in a New Orleans hospital one steamy June morning (long before dads were allowed in the room to aid and encourage and a thousand miles away from her own mother's reassuring words during what had to be a frightening time) How do I thank the one who cared for me, nurtured me, rocked me and taught me.? My real life heroine. I feel so inadequate.!

Mom. Just the mention of her name brings a sense of calm and a smile. She is our rock. Steady in her faith and convictions. Unwavering in her love for her Savior. Unapologetic in her love for her family. She is the epitome of a Godly wife. Patient. Thoughtful.Kind. Steadfast. Her speech seasoned with wisdom and full of His truth. For 33 years I have watched the storms of life wage war on her....they've come in all shapes and sizes. The challenges of being a Pastor's wife, frequent moves, debilitating headaches, and prodigal children. She's been a caregiver to her own mom, walked through the deep valley of death with her sister as she placed her son in The Father's hands, and again as they buried their own mother. She's stared evil square in the face and though they lost their church, their reputation, their name and endured tremendous betrayal from most of their friends, there is one thing she didn't lose.Her faith. As the storms blew the roots grew. Deeper and deeper they reached anchoring us all in the one thing we knew to be worthy of our trust... Christ, The Solid Rock.

Yes, she's taught me everything from my first word and how to use the potty, to how to navigate a broken heart and lots of precarious teenage moments.I can remember the first time in Jr. High school when I thought hey-my mom might know something after all....I was having a bad hair day. (oh my! did I have really bad hair days!) Anyway, fragile emotions and high strung I started to cry in front of her bathroom mirror. Words didn't need to be exchanged because she knew. She just knew. After seeing my frustration, she told me a quick story of her own and how she once felt the same way. I think I was shocked to find her human. We went for donuts and she checked me into school later that day. A seemingly unimportant moment marked a milestone in our relationship. Mother turned mentor turned friend.


No matter how old we get, nothing makes it better like Mom. Her touch comforted me, soothed me and has power still to soothe and calm me.Her joy and countenance steadied me on my wedding day as she beamed on the front row. Her touched comforted me as one, two , three, four babies went directly from my womb into Heaven's arms. And her presence strengthened me as I labored for 18 hours with my first born! Right there she stood, tirelessly encouraging, praying, sitting with me as my body wretched in pain. Only her cries of joy rivaled mine as that tiny baby drew his first breath! Yes, the sweet voice that calmed me so many years ago, still has the power to settle me today.

She is interested in all the uninteresting things about me! How I felt today, what we had for supper, did anyone do anything funny or what's the weather doing up there?.... And how can I pray for you? Do you need me to come up? My response is usually "no" but my heart always cries "yes"! Yes I need you! I will always need you, but no, you don't have to come.

Mom. Could God have given a greater gift to humanity than mothers? We went to watch the movie "Earth" this week. One thing struck me throughout the movie and that was the mothers. All animals, of course, but having the same goal to see their offspring live and thrive in the world. One particular part gripped my heart and painted a picture to what my mother has done for me. It was the hump back whale family. Mother retreating to calm tropical waters to birth and raise baby....denying self of food and other perks that come from being in community with the other whales...all for the sake of her baby. Once the baby was strong enough, they left the calm tropical waters for a long migration south to cold treacherous seas. During one scene a storm is at peak-winds raging and waters roaring, the whales float/swim very close to the top of the surface. Through the noise of the storm you hear and see the slapping of their mighty fins against the water. It looks maddening at first. Then the narrator explains that the storm drowns out the whale's calls to one another, so to avoid being lost or separated, they would slap the water to show they were there....He points out that even though the baby can't see the mother, she has learned to hear the mother's presence even over the storm and it calms her. Wow. My mom has courageously and faithfully taught me to listen to not her voice but a voice Greater than hers and though I cannot see Him, I know He is there-even in the storms-and His presence calms me.

No finer gift could be given than to be raised by my mom. To be taught the ways of the Cross at her feet and to follow her footsteps as she walked in faith through the storms. This is such an ugly, inadequate attempt to say thank you, Mom, this Mother's day- for just being you!. You are the most beautiful woman in the whole world to me, inside and out, and I am so very honored to be yours! I love you and wish you a Happy Day! Lots of hugs and sticky kisses from all the little people here! WE LOVE YOU!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

A long line of Mothers

I come from a long line of mothers.....a blessing the Lord graciously bestowed upon me. I thought of her as I woke today....and missed her. The physical reminder I have of her lay sparkling on the counter...her diamond earrings. Representing 50 years of love, marriage and motherhood these studs now rest in my ears but her legacy rests forever in my heart. My mom's mother...I was her first grandchild and privileged to spend many years with her. I remember her sweet voice...always singing.She sang life and love into her world-into her prince and into her children. The stroke stole her voice before it stole her life but I can still hear it loud and clear in my heart. And her hands.(She was the best back scratcher in the world)! She always had beautiful hands....graceful yet etched deeply with life. Those hands taught me most of what I know now about how to navigate a kitchen....how to bake a chocalate pie, cat head biscuits with honey, layered cakes, casseroles, and to tirelessly serve my husband. Her hands taught me to cross-stitch at 8, sew a straight stitch and she constructed my ball gown for the Senoir dance. Her hands represent a life of love, loyalty, hard work and faith. Once, they were strong.firm.gentle. But in the end they trembled with pain and eventually became an awkward appendage that she struggled to move. The next time I see her hands, they will be healed. steady. pain-free. And beautiful as ever. For He makes all things new and I can almost hear her singing in Heaven.

The third grandchild, yet only girl, my Grandmother shaped my life in very different ways. She was and is a go-getter! The small town of Columbia, South Carolina was too weak to hold her. As a child of the Depression she believed in earning your keep. In a time when women were not valued for much more than domestic contributions, she set off to work in the Capitol of our Nation. An eye disease robbed her sight, yet had no power over her memory and she may be the best storyteller around !History books keep records of life changing events, yet she lived many of them. Stories come to life as she speaks about working the switchboard the day the Japanese invaded Pear Harbor, war rations, and nuclear fall out shelters. Her life has been a dance...and she loves to dance. One of my favorite stories is the one about her and her dance partner dancing in the basement of a segregated African American church. They learned their "moves" and her partner eventually went onto dance in New York the very dance he mastered with her in that basement. We all know that dance now as the "Jitter Bug". Yes, she loves to laugh and dance. And I hope she knows how closely I am watching. Feeble, yet still living alone at age 90, not a day goes by that she doesn't start her day literally on her weak knees. Faith in action. Dancing with Jesus. She teaches me what it looks like to be a prayer warrior. And what it looks like to laugh.

The Psalms talk about daughters being like pillars carved to adorn a palace. Pillars. A strong and vital role they play to support and uphold the palace. Beautifully carved as to adorn-decorate the place they stand. How thankful I am for the grandmothers....the Pillars...that shaped my mother's life and my father's life and who are still shaping my life and all the lives entrusted to me. A gift forever giving and touching and imprinting the world. May my life be worthy of the legacy they have left me with.

(Wow. It's been so long I don't know if I remember how to post!)

Just made some cute treats to send to school with the kids. In case you can't tell by the picture, they are little nests made out of rice crispie treats with jelly bean "eggs" inside. Very fun. Very cute!  Publix had buy one get one free cereal and Paula Deen had the picture in this months magazine. Thanks Publix and Paula! More blogging to come. Soon!

John 11:25

Happy Easter!

Cute Easter Treats

Conversations in Passing

My mind is still foggy as I am recovering from walking pnuemonia....but some funny comments have transpired around me as I'd lost my voice for a week. Saddler's loving it.

While Cord was out of town the other day, I made my way to McDonalds after dropping of the older kids at school. I realized as I sat in the drive thru with cars piled behind me that there was no way the sweet Mexican could hear me whispering through the speaker.

"Hurry, quick, Saddler! Unbuckle and come get in my lap and say everything I tell you LOUDLY."She eagerly clamored into the front with me.

"Say, one small coffee." (she whispers mimicking me.) Louder Saddler. "ONE SMALL COFFEE!" she yells.
"Cream and sugar?" we're asked in broken english. "OH YES! Cream and Sugar." she yells back. Will that be all? Say No loudly again my sweet girl....Now say one small coke please. "And a Coke!!!" she yells. "Please!" (the poor lady thinks she's the victim of a bad joke) Saddler then decides she wants pancakes and sausage. What the heck.

"Please pull around with money ready...." WAIT! Yells Saddler. I need something else.!

Ok. Say one hot cake with sausage. "Not cakes and not sausage." she yells. No no no. its "hotcakes" means pancakes. Say Hot cakes with sausage. "Pancakes with lots of sausage please" she's getting it now. The lady is so confused. It went down hill quick from here. No prompting. No warning. Next thing I know my child is yelling out: "and a yo-gret. and a cheeseburger. and a happy meal. and a chicken nuggets and french fries.....and...."

My feeble attempts to hush her didn't work. I shoved my hand over her mouth and wheeled around to the window. Only after she was buckled in, of course.

Saddler: "Mom. Is your sound broke? How come I can't hear you....when are you gonna find the "boice" you lost? I like it when you can't talk so I can get stuff at McDonalds. Can we get chick-fil-a for lunch?"

O Love that Will Not Let Me Go

It's been a long week. If I had a dollar for every time I've been thrown up on since Sunday, I'd take myself straight over to Rose's Nails and get the best spa pedicure money could buy. Unfortunately, the only thing I have to show from my week as a nurse/janitor are some really dry, raw hands from all the washing/ hand gel/ antibacterial soap, and disinfecting I've been doing. Obsessively. I seriously think you can smell the Lysol from the road in front of our house. We've officially burnt a hole right in the ozone above double oak lane. Sorry.

I am tired. My body and soul are tired. It's Valentine's week...the week we celebrate LOVE and I'm not feeling it. Sad. This is one of my favorite holidays and I have as much fun as the kids doing crafts, making goodies. Not so much this year. We opened the Sachs' Infirmary Sunday and it's been five straight days of throw up around here. I'm surprised my washer and dryer haven't blown up, though I did blow a fuse.

I've had a little extra time on my hands during midnight shifts with sick babies....spent lots of time of praying. Reflecting. Thinking of Valentine Days long past...My first known loves-my parents always sent me flowers all the way til my wedding day. Thanks mom and dad!

I thought of funny experiences like hiding from a boy in 9th grade because he'd bought me roses. HA! I didn't like him and in my awkward, young teen way, decided the best option was to hide. In the dark. On the floor of the balcony at First Baptist Church with my best friend Courtney. (Aren't some of your best memories of growing up forged alongside of your childhood friends? She was more a sister than friend...irreplaceable.) Anyway, sprawled on the dark cold floor was the quickest thing that came to our minds. I guess we figured if he couldn't find me-he couldn't give me roses and I would avoid the whole embarrassing situation. (It was disastrous. Another post for another time.)

I thought of sweet memories...my first V-day dating my husband. All he gave me was a card that said "I'm so glad you're My Best friend." Kidd you not! Not my idea of romance then, but really, it was a beautiful picture of love. It took great restraint for a man to bridle his affections for the woman he loved. He was ardent in his quest to hold me in highest esteem ....fiercely guarding my heart....He waited until he was certain God was leading him to marry me before he kissed me! His purity has been a most treasured gift to me. We've spent 10 more Valentine's together since then. I grow more enamored with him every day and still ever "so glad he's my best friend".

Fresh memories....I have 4 new loves, little valentines -if you will- that look just like my prince and I. They have taught me more about love than I thought possible, stretched me beyond my limits and enlarged my heart a billion times its size! A mother's love is a powerful thing.

But tonight, and these past several nights as Cord has been away and the children have been so sick, I am remembering constant, steadfast, unfailing LOVE. Not love the emotion but Love the Person. God the Father, who set out on His rescue mission for His children 100s of decades ago. And Jesus the Son who left His throne and all the Glory of Heaven to lay down His life for me. Love poured forth from His wounds~ the red blood covered me~ washing me that I may be whiter than snow........

SO. On this tired, sickly Valentine's evening, I rest content with the "loves" of my life and in THE LOVE that will never let me go. Thank you Father for unconditional love.

O love that wilt not let me go,
I rest my weary soul in thee;
I give thee back the life I owe,
That in thine ocean depths its flow
May richer fuller be.

O light that foll'west all my way,
I yield my flick'ring torch to thee;
My heart restores its borrowed ray,
That in thy sunshine's blaze its day
May brighter, fairer be.

O joy that seekest me through pain,
I cannot close my heart to thee;
I trace the rainbow through the rain,
And feel the promise is not vain,
That morn shall tearless be.

O cross that liftest up my head,
I dare not ask to fly from thee;
I lay in dust life's glory dead,
And from the ground there blossoms red
Life that shall endless be.

I Am SOOO Laughing at myself!

Want to hear something funny? So I posted about my loathed new "my space" account yesterday and how next thing I knew some guy named Tom left me a message. Well, I don't know any Tom's and I sure the heck don't know what it means to have a message. As I was sharing this with my good friend Katy today, she started laughing and in a very gracious way, gently said

"Um, Heather, do you even know who Tom is?"

In much disgust I said NO! Just some random guy.

She then informed me he was the creator of My space and it was standard for everyone to get a message from him.

OH.

I really should get with the times.