Sunday, November 8, 2015

FOR ALL MY SAINTS

This morning as I watched the church service on television, I was reminded of how most of us had someone in our life who made a difference. In most cases, it probably has been our choice to surround ourselves with those who influenced us one way or another. Usually, we can identify a person, or a group of people, that had a negative influence just by the sequence of events in our lives. 

When we give it some thought, I imagine we can all name people who have given us inspiration, faith, and hope for the future. People that make us feel good. People that we love, and have made a difference, because of their impact on our lives. I doubt any of mine would consider themselves a Saint. 

But, as I listened today, my mind went rampant remembering those people in my life. There are so many that I remember for some small deed of kindness, some for the things they taught me, and for some, things they shared with me about themselves. I remember Sunday School teachers, Pastors, relatives, teachers, and friends. I remember seeing some suffer from illnesses, or endure financial hardships, some in despair over the loss of a loved one, but every one, in some way, radiated peace, grace, love, happiness, joy, or beauty to me through it all. Qualities and traits that I wanted. 

Several teachers showed patience and guidance by not accepting anything but the best from their students and showing the importance of a good education. A Principal taught character, when he cared enough for his students to actually check on them when they were missing from school. 

A family friend who tutored me in my piano lessons, read the Bible, and always had a sandwich and beverage waiting when I got there showed grace and manners.

I remember a wonderful lady who spent an enormous amount of her time with me and some classmates who needed an accompanist for high school competition events. She raised a family of five, was the musical director for the church, and battled cancer for the last years of her life, but was always there when she was needed by anyone. Always giving, always smiling. Always positive.

There was an aunt, who showed strength and perserverance in raising a child on her own, while suffering from a dibilitating illness , worked a full time job, when working outside the home wasn't the norm. . I can still smell the violet toilet water that sat on my aunt's dresser and see her tortise shell mirror and hair brush. She sang beautifully and she and my Mom performed, sharing their talents throughout the community. On his own merits, her son went to college, seminary, and graduate school. He served each appointment with outstanding success, gaining accolades for his service to the churches thoughout the state and even after retirement continues to serve quietly volunteering.

An uncle who never had formal education, was a Methodist minister all of his adult life and brought the word of God, joy and laughter to anyone he met. 

The husband of a cousin, showed amazing strength and courage when he lost his wife and son within one year, but he never gave up hope for the future and was solid in his belief that everything happens for a reason although we don't always understand. His faith got him through that unimagineable time of grief and loss. He used his experiences in founding a charity golf event in memory of his son, showing humility and generosity.

One friend in particular, showed such wisdom and character when she shared about her daughter who had been molested by a church friend. She offered consolation to me when I was at a particularly low point in my life and prayed with me.

My best friend as an adult was always there for me. We shared stories, cried together, laughed together, and prayed together. After she was diagnosed with inoperable brain cancer, she never slipped in her faith and never lost her ability to make me laugh even when those last dark days loomed over us. Her husband and brother were brought up mostly on their own due to the hard times during the war and after the loss of their father. They were so aware of the importance of a loving family relationship. They always included us in their "family". 

Another friend who was such a happy and positive person that it was impossible to be around her and complain. Always asking what she could do for anyone who knew her. She had a unique ability to find something special that she could do in her life that was simply love pouring from her. She volunteered for Hospice and throughout her last years of life, after being diagnosed with cancer, she volunteered at a local hospital on a regular basis. She loved singing, loved here church, but most of all, was devoted to her children.

An elderly friend who welcomed me when I was new in town and always called to invite me to join in with her in activies in the community and her home. The "pound cake Queen", she always included me when she had something to share. We enjoyed many hours just talking and laughing and sharing recipes. A beautiful lady with true southern charm.

I've also been blessed to have relationships with people I have never met. One friend in particular, has given me prayers, support, encouragement, and love by way of the internet when I needed it most. There are others who stay in touch and offer words of praise and/or congratulations.

In my own words, I simply express my gratitude to these people, and many more, whose influence is indelible. especially my Mother and Father for giving me life. They all are truly the Saints of my life.



 T

 

 


Thursday, November 5, 2015

SWEET SIXTEEN


I had two birthday parties growing up. One when I was eight, attended by Momma, Big Daddy, Big Momma, and my cousin, Donnie. Of course, Tippy, Big Momma's lap dog was at everything. The setting was outside in front of Biggie's house, with a card table covered with a red and white checkered tablecloth. I'm sure there must have been some neighborhhod friends there, but I have no recollection of them. 

I do remember how special it was to have a cake and all the attention that was directed at me that day. Biggie must have made my cake since my Mom went into a state of hysteria when she had to bake anything other than "cat head biscuits," and she didn't even make them very well. But there definitely was cake. Maybe ice cream. I can't remember any presents, but I'm sure Momma made sure that I had at least one present. She always managed to do that, no matter what. I've said before, we were poor, but I didn't know it. 

My other birthday party was on my 16th birthday. Now we're talking birthday parties! In my day, a birthday party on your 16th birthday was an occasion like no other in my hometown, unless it was a funeral or wedding. It meant weeks of preparation. Invitations had to be printed or engraved, depending on how "poor" you were, reserving the Community House, making your invitation list, again depending on how "poor" you were because you had to feed them. In our case, somebody had to borrow tablecloths, punch bowl and cups, appropriate utensils for the food, buy candles, order the birthday cake from Bazemores, make punch, arrange for the music, and chaperones. Yep, we had chaperones. They were usually friends or relatives of the parents. Roudy teenagers weren't tolerated, but nobody I knew was roudy anyway so the chaperones weren't really needed. Nevertheless, they were always there. Just in case. 

Dance cards for the girls were a definite must, so somebody had to get busy and make up those little folding cards, cut out with pinking shears from colored construction paper. They were made to look pretty with a ribbon attached to go around the wrist. It was numbered 1, 2, 3, etc. inside with a line drawn beside the number for your dance partner. The guys would scramble to sign their name on the cards of the most popular girls. I never saw many guys scrambling to get to my card at any party, including my own. The fact that I had a serious boyfriend may have had a bearing on that, but then again, I wasn't the brightest bulb on the tree. But I'd get a few signatures on my card, just to be nice. 

Back to my party. The Community House was decorated with crepe paper streamers, record player with all the top hits of the 50's and the wooden floor was gleaming and waxed to perfection. The beautiful two tiered birthday cake sat in the middle of the long table with the perfect punch of the day,  - Lime sherbert and ginger ale - in a beautiful borrowed crystal bowl with cups all lined up beside it. Petit fours, cookies, chicken salad, cream cheese with pineapple sandwiches were piled high on the borrowed silver trays. Nuts and little green and pink mints were in borrowed compotes. It was something to behold! Momma had worked herself into a frienzy, but she had "done good."   I was spit polished and all dressed up in a new dress for the occasion.  Looking good.

When the magic hour arrived, I was petrified that no one would show up. My stomach got tied up in knots, I was sweating like a hog,  and I followed Momma's lead and went into my own frienzy as the time approached and the long awaited event was ready to begin. I'm sure we had asked for RSVP's, but you never know.... Typical me - and Momma. I walked the floor, afraid that my party was going to be a big fat flop. 

Just about then, some cars arrived and out hopped girls, boys, and Momma's, who probably wanted to see how pretty everything looked.  I was saved!   Soon, the place was swarming with teenagers and the boys scrambled for the girl's dance cards. Yes! I was an instant, gleaming "birthday girl!" The night was danced away, cake and petit fours and sandwiches were eaten with a cup of green punch, presents were opened, and it was over. 

My own ladder to success had been completed. My dance card wasn't filled, but everybody had a good time and the coveted milestone of the 16th birthday party was over. Momma, Daddy, and all the chaperones cleaned up, washed cups, punch bowls, and trays and we turned out the lights on one of the best days of my life.

Life was good. We made the social pages in the Forest Blade.