Parenting by Heart

What's in YOUR shopping cart?

2012-02-08T14:51:00.000-08:00


Photo credit: Ambro

Shopping for groceries sometimes seems like a necessary evil. At other times, it can be a pleasant experience, but it depends on who is shopping with whom and how they interact with one another.

We've all seen the couples who walk along side by side, glancing at their list and sharing the events of their day. To them, shopping is a mutual experience and they don't seem to mind it a bit.

Then there are those couples on the other end of the spectrum. One is dawdling along in a daze while the other pushes the cart ahead, dashing in and out of aisles. Little communication goes on, and if it does, it's negative.

"Just grab some soup, will ya! We don't have all night to read the details on every label .... "

Then there are those parents who shop with their children. Consider the ones who discuss what they are doing with their little ones. They make eye contact and allow them to "help" out as much as possible. You will often see physical contact as they pat a little arm or smooth their child's hair with a gentle hand. There's no doubt those children feel valued. And their conversation is pleasant, too.

Photo by David C. Dominici

"Let's see, now ... we need laundry detergent to keep our clothes clean. Remember how good it smells when we pour it in the washing machine?"

I love watching these interactions and am happy for the little people involved. They are learning that shopping can be an interesting and pleasant experience. They also feel part of that experience when they hold small (unbreakable) items, count cans in the cart, carry the parent's list, etc. All of this information and interacting is stored away for future reference.

Then, there are the other parents ... the ones who appear in public with a chip on their shoulders before the shopping ever begins. These parents don't walk the aisles, they stalk them with rigid spines and tense grips on grocery carts. They thwart any healthy curiosity the children may have about shopping and expect their offspring to endure the entire experience without speaking (or at least interrupting the parent's tirade).

"I don't know why I ever bring you with me! You're always yapping or begging or crying at the top of your lungs. At this rate, it's gonna take us all night to get a few groceries. So just SIT STILL AND STOP MAKING A RACKET!"

Photo by David C. Dominici

Okay ... I'll confess to being guilty of raising my brows and trying to catch the eye of those little people. I usually give a wink or smile, just to let them know someone cares and not every adult is grumpy. Maybe it's also an attempt to let them know not the tension that accompanies shopping isn't entirely their fault.

When there is trouble in the store, the major fault lies at the feet of the parents. After all, what happens at home usually happens in public, right? The impatient parent who nags and talks loud enough to be heard two aisles over also does that at home. The one who is patient and attentive while grocery shopping is probably that way at home, too.

This is why it's important to patiently instruct children in daily disciplines - not just bark out a list of rules before entering a public venue. With some forethought and consistency at home, it's possible to be seen in public without making a big scene. Try the following tips at home, first. Be consistent, and then practice them during shopping experiences ...

1. Make eye contact with your children when they speak or ask a question. This is how they learn! It's far too easy to listen and respond as we go about our business rather than turning to face our children. Making eye contact is important, because it shows our children we care about what they have to say. It also gives them one-on-one attention for that brief moment.

2. Never yell at your children unless the place is on fire (or you are yelling for them to come home from down the street). Yelling at our children is demeaning and unnecessary when daily disciplines are in place. If a child feels secure and loved, a respectful trust toward the parent will follow. Yelling at them does not produce cooperation or obedience.

3. Allow children to help in the home from early on. Toddlers love to "help" and should be encouraged to do so. Yes, it's much faster to do it yourself, but in the long run, you will have more help if you allow them to assist now. There will be messes and spills, but a quick swipe of a rag and a calm voice is far better than fussing. Don't allow yourself to fuss and nag!

4. As young children grow, increase their chores as you work alongside them. Make a salad together. Let your children stir the cake batter, rinse dishes, make beds and dust the furniture -- with your help. As they mature, let them do more of the work on their own.

5. Put on some peppy music or sing as you work! This lets young children see that work is not a drudgery or punishment. Instead, they are seeing that working with Mom or Dad is kinda fun. And if Mom and Dad don't mind chores, it's likely their children won't either.

So next time you head to the store, ask yourself...

What's in YOUR shopping cart -- miserable child or willing assistant?

This photo by Suat Eman. Find other blog photos at freedigitalphotos.net !

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2012-02-08T13:42:00.000-08:00

What's in your shopping cart

2012-02-08T13:41:00.001-08:00

Ethan

2012-02-01T20:00:00.000-08:00

Ethan on the keyboard at 10 months

When our daughter called last night, she had just finished giving one of her students a piano lesson there at home. Our grandson, Ethan, who is nearly three, has been present much of the time for her students' lessons and loves to observe while he colors or works on a puzzle.

His Daddy is an accomplished musician with guitar. His Mommy plays keyboard, piano and organ. You might say Ethan has been exposed to music all his life -- even before birth. Back to their living room and the music lesson that is winding down. As soon as our daughter's student left, Ethan announced, "Time for my lesson, Mommy!"

Though she's never actually given him lessons, Melissa has always taken time at the piano with Ethan. So, she sat down and showed him how to play his part while she played the background music. He quickly learned how to start playing only after the count of 1-2-3. Their duet went so well, she asked if Ethan wanted to call and play it for me.

I sat here and listened to her say, "Ready? Let's count to three now and start together." He didn't miss a beat and played his own version of "Twinkle Twinkle Little Star" while she followed the actual notes. Amazingly, he knew right where to pause and finally, to stop on the last note. I was proud of him and told him so.

At 2 with his bongo drum

He then announced that he wanted to play and sing "Jesus Loves Me." You know my heart went pitter-patter to hear his little voice sing that one. I told him he'd done a good job and knew that his song made the Lord happy. He immediately turned to Melissa and said,"I want to call Jesus and play it for Him!" Melissa patiently explained that Jesus could hear him play and sing it even without a telephone. But that didn't quite satisfy Ethan. He asked at least twice more, "Can I call Him on the phone?"

Wouldn't it be great if we could actually call and talk with the Lord? Hearing His voice would be comforting, I'm sure, but think of the inconvenience of dialing and getting a busy signal. Thankfully, He never misses even one of His children calling out when they need help or wisdom.

I'm not sure Ethan understands why the Lord doesn't have a phone. I'm also sure He will eventually 'get it' one of these days and find comfort in the fact God doesn't need any man-made contraptions to communicate with His children. But until he understands that, it blesses my heart to know my grandson wanted to call the Lord and share a song with Him.

Not just any song, mind you, but a very important song. One of the first songs most children learn in Sunday School. It's a song that's easy to learn, easy to understand and remember...

Ethan (age 3) and Mommy after church

Jesus loves me, this I know, for the Bible tells me so.
Little ones to Him belong, they are weak, but He is strong!
Yes, Jesus loves me! Yes, Jesus loves me!
Yes, Jesus loves me! The Bible tells me so.

Not long ago, he received a harmonica. Melissa called to say, "Your grandson has a surprise for you!" He then took the phone and said, "I'm gonna play my AR-mon-ica for you, Nana." He did, and when I asked the name of his beautiful song, he announced, "That was 'Mazing Grace."

You keep singing and playing for the Lord, Ethan. I'm glad you like Mommy's keyboard, your bongo drum, Daddy's guitar and your new harmonica. I have a feeling you'll be playing to the Lord for many years to come.

Papaw and Nana love you!

Jason Cody

2012-01-31T18:23:00.000-08:00

Jason Cody enjoys his little vehicles

"Hi, Nana!" Jason Cody yells into the phone ...

It's always good to hear that sweet little voice, and it's okay that he's talking loud enough for Nana to haer him 750 miles away. He's probably partly excited because he got to punch numbers in on Daddy's phone to make the call!

During our calls, we often talk about things with wheels, because Jason Cody is fascinated with things-that-go. If it has tires or wheels, it's got a place in his heart, and he is well supplied with things that roll ...

Like Thomas the Train and all his friends, a cute yellow school bus, a red firetruck, some snazzy race cars, a favorite white truck that even goes to the park with him sometimes, and a noisy dump truck that grinds its gears and races around the room attacking toes as it goes.

Ah, the joys of being a grandmother are numerous! I love it when we visit and where Phillip and I are known as "Papaw and Nana." I love the warm cuddles with storybooks, the smell of baby shampoo, the soft sweep of long eyelashes against a rosy cheek and the feel of a little hand in mine. I also love watching Papaw play trains and hide-and-seek games while I take pictures. He wears the grandpa mantle well and loves his grandson dearly.

Around 7:30 each evening, there are precious bear hugs, snuggles and kisses before bath and bedtime. We've also learned that we are prayed for daily by this little man - from nose to toes! That's pretty comforting, knowing our body parts are bathed in sincere petitions to the Heavenly Father. At our age, we especially need that. ;-)

Next morning about 6:30, I hear a little voice in the nursery next to the guest room where we sleep. Jason Cody is chatting to Scout, his stuffed sleep buddy. After a bit, I hear him call out to Mommy and Daddy. That's my cue. I slip in and whisper, "Can Nana change your diaper and then take you downstairs to play?" He grins and says quietly, "Yeah." I like having those sweet little arms wrap around my neck as I pick him up.

There are only two things I don't like about being a Nana -- the number of highway miles between us and the fact we average seeing him only three times a year.

Playing at the park near their home

Jason Cody does a lot of growing between our visits, and his vocabulary seems to increase ten- fold. Now he's counting to 15 by himself and knows some simple math, plus he is learning the pledge of allegiance. Hey, even a two-year-old could teach Congress a few things, right?

Being a Nana also takes me back to the days when our own children were this size. I'll admit there were days I used to think would go on forever and I might be swallowed whole while trying to keep up with three little ones.

Laundry could pile up like a mini Mt. Everest. Sticky hand prints were on a wipe-one-off-get-two-more-free basis. Back then it was too easy to focus on what I had left to do -- and see my children as interruptions. When that happens, you miss a lot of sweet spots along the way.

I've grown up a lot since then, and as a Nana, I am free to slow down, relax and enjoy every minute of time I have with my son's son. I am more patient now than I was when his Daddy was two. Boo-boos and spills aren't a big deal anymore. Just a quick swipe with a clean rag, and you're done. Maybe I've just learned to roll with the punches.

Hiding inside a big, colorful box!

Thanks for your sweet and funny calls, Jason Cody. They make Nana smile inside and out! Thank you, too, for praying for Papaw and me. We pray for you, too, and we're very proud of you for sitting quietly in big church with your Mommy and Daddy. They are teaching you to honor the Lord just like their parents taught them at your age. And that's a very good thing.

Papaw and I can't wait to see you again -- real soon! Until then, remember we love you all the way from Alabama to Virginia -- and that's a lot!

(P.S. Your cousin Ethan called. I'll write about him next in my next blog, okay?)

Your Papaw and Nana love you!

One Parent

2012-01-30T20:33:00.000-08:00

Caring for Mom has taken priority in my life at this point, but I am thankful she is still with us.

You see, on this very night (Jan. 30) in 1991, my Daddy went to heaven after a massive heart attack. I can't imagine not having Mom during the past 21 years, too. Thank you, Lord, for sparing me one parent.

Mom moved in with us in July, and then in October, she moved behind us into her own little home. Having her here, instead of 20 minutes away as she was before, makes it much easier for me to assist her, visit with her throughout the day and give her lots of hugs.

Oh yes, and tuck her in each night. That has become one of our little (favorite) routines. I call ahead and ask her to turn on the porch light and unlock the door, and she does. Then I give my signature knock and step in to her welcoming smile.

She's usually in her favorite chair reading or crocheting or just looking at family photos.
Sometimes we talk about the good ol' days, and Mom gets a little mixed up with where those days ended and where we are in the here and now. And that's okay. I explain things and we go from that point on in our conversation.

After our nightly visit, I get her sleepy-time tea ready and administer her night-time meds, then we chat a bit longer about what we've both done on that day. Mom is always grateful for company in the evening hours, especially. I stay awhile and then we always pray before I head back home.

Praying together is a meaningful tradition in our family and goes back to the days when I was a child in our home at 3201 Oakwood Avenue. Daddy would call all of us into the living room and read some scripture, and then we'd all kneel down for prayer time.

Lemme tell ya, eight people in a small living room isn't easy when there's also an elephant-sized sofa and a matching armchair -- especially when six kids are trying hard to "not touch each other."

Then there were two end tables, a small TV and Mom's flower shelves (3 feet long, about 4 feet high) by the east window. I remember it was facing east because "African Violets need morning sun due to their delicate nature" and Mom's violets were prolific bloomers. Add to that a couple kitchen chairs we'd drug in for Bible time, and there was hardly room to sneeze.

Back to kneeling for prayer. It was crowded, but we managed, somehow, with 16 legs and feet sticking out everywhere in what was left of that tiny room. I'm pretty sure some sibling toes were touching at one point or another, but we weren't allowed to pick a fight during prayer time. So we kept our heads bowed. Ten minutes, fifteen, twenty --

Those nights we all took turns praying seemed to define the meaning of "eternity" for me. I got sooooo tired of trying to hold still and squeeze my eyes shut.

Dad would start out praying, then Mom would pray, then the first child next and on down the line to #8 in the family, which was my little brother. But I've gotten off track, here, and jumped from Mom and me at night to the whole Keltie clan at 3201 Oakwood Avenue...

Just awhile ago -- this very night -- Mom and I held each other and bowed our heads together. I asked the Lord to bless her with sweet, peaceful rest and sleep. I thanked Him for Mom and mentioned the blessing Dad was to us all, but I didn't mention that it was 21 years ago tonight he died ...

I then asked for safety through the night, blessings for my siblings and all of Mom's children, grandchildren and great-grandchildren -- two of whom belong to hubby and me! Last but certainly not least, I thank the Lord for His love and kindness in sending His son Jesus to die on the cross for us. Then we both say Amen.

I'm so thankful Mom is close by where I can watch over her. She did that for me when I was a child, and I'm glad to do that for her now. We both miss Daddy and talk about him a lot. Most days, Mom shows me his picture and talks about how they met and the early years of their lives together. She often seems to grieve his death again, but today she said something very important. Something pretty profound that I hope to remember if I am in her shoes some day...

"When things happen and you don't have your companion anymore, you have to go on ... you can't just give up and not live your life. You have to make the best of it."

I can't imagine how hard the past 21 years have been for Mom. Daddy was her best friend, her sweetheart, her provider and protector. So I give her one more kiss and hug before I leave. As she waits to lock the door behind me, I grin, "Sleep tight, and don't let the bedbugs bite!" She chuckles every time I say that. As the door closes between us, I tell her I love her and hear her say she loves me, too.

Outside, I take a deep breath ... a transition breath of sorts between leaving Mom's and stepping back into our place. As I do, I glance up and look at the stars. Tonight they are brilliant (!) and seem close enough to pick and put in my pocket. Somewhere out beyond them, my Heavenly Father resides. My earthly father (Daddy) is at perfect peace there, too, but I still miss him.

Thank You, Father, for sparing me one parent. May I be a blessing to her while I still can -- and may I do all that I do for Your honor and glory! Amen.

Tuck in Time and Prayers

2011-08-13T19:09:00.000-07:00

It happened every night -- six young siblings knelt around a huge red couch and bowed their heads for nightly prayers. I was #5 of the six in that line up, and those moments stand out in my memory for several reasons ...

1. Sometimes the parents' prayers seemed to go on forever ... (forever to a child is anything more than 3 minutes).

2. My knees got tired, and I got the wiggles. When you know you *have* to be still, it's oh-so-much harder!

3. Sometimes I peeked. Okay, most of the time I probably peeked to see if everyone else had their eyes closed. And I tattled if they didn't! Mom stopped me cold one time with this question ... "How did you know their eyes were open for prayer?"

I look back with fond memories of those nights around the ol' red couch. Daddy would usually tell us a Bible story and act it out, too. We loved it when he got down on his hands and knees to roar like a lion or bleat like a lamb. I did *not* like his wicked laugh when he imitated Goliath, though. That one gave me nightmares!

Fast forward 25+ years to tuck-in-time with my own children. Hubby and I carried on some of the same nightly traditions our own parents' used -- Bible reading and questions first, then time to share prayer requests and finally, kneeling for prayer by the bed or couch.

I loved hearing our children pray, but I have a confession to make here:

1. Sometimes the kids' prayers seemed to go on forever (..."and God bless the package man and the mailman and the garbage truck driver ... " )

2. My knees got tired! (Keeping up with the three little ones, all the laundry, cooking and cleaning ... yep, my knees got tired, and I got the wiggles.)

3. Sometimes I peeked. (I wanted to see how cute the kids looked while saying their prayers. And, of course, I was checking on them to make sure *they* weren't peeking!)

Fast forward another 25 years or so ... the roles have reversed and now I am tucking my own mother in with prayer at night. I bend down to her level, wrap my arms around her and begin to pray for specific things, like a good night's rest for Mom and me both ... strength and health for each new day ... and thanking the Lord for my Mom and the heritage I have in being her (and Daddy's) daughter.

There are 3 things I notice about tucking Mom in...
1. Our prayers are brief, then I kiss Mom g'night.
2. My knees don't get tired and I try not to wiggle.
3. I don't peek, because Mom may ask me if I did!

And to all, a good night!

A horse with no rider ...

2011-06-29T06:05:00.000-07:00

You've heard of the headless horseman, right? Here's a similar story with a bit of a twist ...

A few years back a friend was cleaning out an attic in a repossessed house and spotted a real treasure. Handmade, it was a rocking horse with a soft wool mane and tail, leather saddle and sturdy platform for rowdy little riders.

I don't know if some lil' cowpoke got mad at his mount or what -- but that poor horsie had been beheaded, so to speak. That's how he came to us, but thankfully the head was found in a corner of that same attic. All it needed was some sympathetic soul to come along and reattach it... and I knew just the man.

When our two year old grandson found out we had a headless rocking horse, he described it this way -- "Papaw, Nana. Horse -- head broke." At two, that's was the problem plain and simple, so my hubby made a promise to Ethan.

It took a bit of time, a bit of wood glue, some screws and sweat, but there was lots of love in the mix, too. The result was marvelous, as you can see in the photo above.

It's important to keep promises, and Papaw knew this one was especially important. When a two year old boy is worried about a horse without a head, you can't laze around or back down on your promise. A man's gotta do what he's gotta do, and I'm proud to say my man did.

When he called Ethan to report, he said, "Remember the horse with a broken head? Papaw fixed him, and he has his head back. He's ready for you to ride."

I'm sure our grandson was relieved to hear that. I'm also guessing his eyes lit up when he said, "Ride horse!"

And that's just what a horse with no rider needs ... a little cowpoke (make that two of them!) that are to arrive for a family reunion in July. I can picture them taking turns to rein in a perfectly good mount. One their Papaw rescued.

We don't know who it was that built such a beautiful horse, but we're thankful for their fine craftsmanship. We don't know how many children have ridden him through the years. We don't even know the name of this rocking horse.

But that's okay. We figure our grandsons will come up with a name for him after riding him a few times. I'm just glad this horse will once again have some young riders perched on that fine leather saddle.

P.S. This Nana will be happy to post more photos when that happens!

Why Mother's Day means so much to me this year ...

2011-05-08T19:07:00.000-07:00

On this Mother's Day, 2011, I am so very grateful for three phone calls...
Perhaps more grateful than I've ever been in my 30+ years of parenting. Our older son, Jason, called Saturday morning early. Our younger son, Kevin, called Saturday evening and our daughter, Melissa, called this afternoon.

Their voices were so precious in my ear, and I am thankful to be a Mom whose children are still alive and well. There are many moms in our area who did not have that privilege today and many children whose mothers are no longer here due to what happened 12 days ago ...

If you've followed the news at all, you know Alabama was hard hit by multiple tornadoes on April 27. Rescue teams worked day and night to pull victims out of collapsed buildings for the first two days. There are many amazing stories of children and adults escaping unharmed or, if injured, surviving the F-4 and F-5 tornadoes.

We've heard many stories of babies and young children surviving because someone covered them and gave their life for the child's....

There's the grandmother whose hands had to be pried from the child she held ... and the baby who was found in a cooler unharmed ... and a three-year-old in a refrigerator that was covered with debris but propped open just enough for her to breathe.

When asked how she got there, she told rescue workers, "The man with wings put me in there." We've also heard about a toddler being found up in a tree after the tornado -- basically unharmed. Hard to imagine!

Adults have survived, too -- There's the man who twisted his ankle while trying to get to his vehicle and ended up going back inside. Moments later, the tornado took his truck up in the air and dropped it soon after, literally crushing it. He would have been in it if his ankle hadn't stopped him.

Then there's the eight-year-old who was sucked out of his home in the dark. While his frantic parents looked for him, he walked back in the house. How did he manage to make it back on his own?

"I followed the light," he explained. Only there was no light that night, because the electricity had gone off in the area during the storm. I don't know about you, but we are convinced the Lord lovingly provided some kind of light to direct a child back home to his frantic family.

There's also the young mother with three children who jumped in their van to try to outrun the storm. Their van was picked up and hurled around, the windows were blown out and the wind threatened to suck them all out of the van. All of them were banged up, but they survived.

We also heard about three people in a bathtub who got sucked up into the twister and saw their truck spinning around beside them. Amazingly, they ended up back on the ground bruised and battered but alive. Thankfully, the truck didn't slam into them during the wild ride *or* land on top of them.

Miraculous events, yes, and we are thankful for them in the middle of all the sadness that surrounds us. Over 250 people were killed in Alabama state alone with dozens of others in Tennessee, Mississippi, Georgia and North Carolina. And there are still people missing. Pray that they are found or their bodies recovered so their families can have closure.

No matter how bad things look, we can always find things for which to be thankful:

- So many volunteers from other states have loaded their vehicles with goods or tools and poured into this area to help. They have served food, repaired roofs, hugged grieving victims, run errands, repaired utilities, burned brush piles, donated food, toiletries, blankets and more.

- With all the extra hands on deck, mounds of debris were removed, roads and highways were cleared, fallen trees removed and utilities restored-- days before the projected date. It's amazing how much can be accomplished when kindness takes over.

- Local people who weren't affected by the storm have opened their hearts and hands. Businesses, churches and individuals have donated money to needy victims. Beauty shops and clothing stores donated their services and goods to high school students for special end-of-the-year events.

Mother's Day, this year, has been a good time to reflect on what our state has been through in the past 12 days. We have learned that life is precious and "things" aren't as important as people. We are grateful for new friends who have come to help Alabama recover. Most of all, we are very thankful the Lord has been merciful.

It could have been so much worse than it was.

The Resurrection

2011-04-25T16:43:00.001-07:00

Death is not a pleasant experience, but in the eyes of a child, it need not be traumatic or final...

Rewind about twenty years ago to a week busy with two funerals for my hubby, who was pastor of a congregation in Kentucky.

I suppose we had talked about the funerals enough that our children were aware of them. That, and the fact they weren't afraid of a funeral home.

One of our deacons was the county mortician, and the children loved him dearly. It was nothing unusual for Bro. Mike to entertain the children in his office. There were also times he and his wife Sandy babysat for us, so the funeral home was just "part of the package" to our kiddos.

Now, back to our home there and when I nearly walked in on a "funeral service." It was taking place in our family room downstairs, and our two older children were conducting it for their little neighbor friend...

Ashley was properly laid out on the hearth with hands crossed over her chest and eyes closed. It became a real problem when she kept popping her head up to give directions to the funeral directors, who were 9 and 6 years old.

"You have to lie still," our daughter Melissa said. "You're dead, and you can't talk."

This silenced the deceased momentarily, but she then decided it was time to sing a hymn at her own funeral. Problem was, her hymn wasn't a hymn at all. She broke into song and dance, jiving all around the den in complete abandon.

I was hiding behind a stairwell, cracking up as quietly as I could!

Melissa, funeral director #1, asked our son Jason, funeral director #2, to conduct the service. He quickly proceeded, holding his little New Testament upside down and quoting parts of Psalm 23. (Ashley got back on the hearth and into position.)

"The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want. He leads me beside still water ... He restores my soul..." Then he closed out with something profound:

"And when I wake up, I'll be refreshed."

How true! When the Lord comes back for us, He will wake up His children from their graves and take them home to glory. And when we wake up, we will definitely be refreshed in every way. We'll have a new body -- an eternal one that will never get tired again.

Thank the Lord for the understanding of little people. They trust so easily and accept things the Lord never intended to be difficult for us to understand or accept. Thank God for the resurrection of Christ, which makes our own resurrection possible!

As they say, out of the mouths of babes ...

(Photo above was taken of our three children on Easter Sunday - 1990)

Changing places

2011-03-13T18:59:00.000-07:00

My husband and I have changed places many times through the years ...

We've moved from Tennessee to Alabama to Kentucky and back to Alabama in the past 36 years. We've changed places in other ways, too...

When the children were little, we changed places to care for our children at times. Knowing I was home with them all day, Phillip would take over so I could go out on occasion.

Sometimes it was out for dinner with a friend. Other times, I'd attend class meetings, church functions and the occasional concert. Just that little bit of time changing places made us both appreciate one another as partners in child-rearing.

Lately, we've been changing places again ... as caregivers. Instead of caring for our children -- who have all grown and flown the nest -- we are caring for our parents in their golden years.

Both my Mom (86) and his Dad (89) need more input and assistance from us. After the years they invested in our lives -- caring for our needs, teaching us about the Lord, training us, preparing us for the future and loving us in spite of the bumps -- we are now caring for them. We have changed places once more ... from just being our parents' children to being their guardians and caregivers.

It's not always easy or convenient, but it's a responsibility we take seriously. Sometimes, when the day is long and the nights are full of interruptions, it's also exhausting. Sleep is sweeter now, and occasional breaks for an outing together are even more precious.

There is also another fine balance that must be maintained. We must care for our own health so that we are able to be there for our parents and help meet their needs. We must also take time to nurture ourselves in the Word and look to the Lord for strength and grace.

The Lord is our teacher, and if we follow His leading, we will be tender caregivers. As children, we will continue to honor our parents and guard their dignity at all times. We will also carefully screen potential sitters and make sure those who help us are trustworthy and thoughtful. Change is not always easy, but with God's help, it is possible to adapt without whining.

Help us, Father, to be loving caregivers to our parents. They cared for us day and night for many years and did it without complaining. May we go forward with courage and grace, changing places as often as You lead.

Of weather and wee ones ...

2011-02-28T17:55:00.000-08:00

Remember the old saying, March comes in like a lion and goes out like a lamb? I don't know about you, but through my lifetime, this saying didn't always play out. I can remember occasions when the month of March entered with a tiny bleat and exited with a mighty ROARRRR!

Okay, fast forward to catch up with my thinking, here ...

Have you ever noticed how children often fall in comparative categories? Some children are just more lamb-like than others. They comply with our wishes and make nary a bleat when asked to do another task or take another spoonful of medicine -- in fact, they practically skip like little lambs when we call them and will do whatever we ask.

Then there are those children who practically curl their lips and growl in protest at any rules or assignments or expectations we may have. Instead of skipping, they roar. Instead of running to us, they slink around and hide in hopes we will forget what we asked them to do.

Forgive me for comparing children to creatures ... but don't you agree just a teeny bit? I'm guessing some of you immediately made the correlation to your own children when reading about lamb-like behavior... and lion-like slinking and growling. (BTW, I looked it up, and lions *do* growl. I figure it's one step below the full roar.)

Take heart, dear parents. The same Lord that made the lamb and the lion made your dear children. He knows their particular strengths and weaknesses, and He has great plans for them. He will also give you grace to guide them both.

Your "lamb" may need nudging now and then, because lambs can be timid and have no ability to lead. Your "lion," on the other hand, may need holding back so others may have their say and take the lead now and then.

Both lions and lambs have their strengths, and God will use them to do great things when they learn to follow His leading. After all, He is not only their Creator, He is both the Lion of Judah and the Lamb of God!

Happy March-ing with your little lambs and lions...

Midwest Student Ministries (photo above)

How love between parents affects children

2011-02-14T08:38:00.000-08:00

When you bring your sweetheart a treat on Valentine's Day ...

... you can be sure the kids are paying attention BIG time. No matter how old they are, they do notice and their reactions will vary ...

Tots will climb up your legs to get to the candy while older children may giggle or roll their eyes with drama. One way or the other, they have noticed the fact you did something special for your spouse, and for that, you deserve points!

Even if they don't seem to be paying attention, news tends to get around. "Daddy brought Mommy some flowers and now they're kissin' in the kitchen!"

So how does love between parents really affect children?

Children feel more secure when they know their parents get along and love one another. They go to bed at night confident that both parents will still be there when they wake up. They feel safe knowing their parents are committed to one another. Conflict between parents, on the other hand, is a frightening experience that may send kids scattering. Their world suddenly becomes scary and unstable. Will their parents be together (or not) the next day?

Children feel more content if their world is secure. This affects their ability to do just about anything with less stress -- eat, play, pretend and assist around the house. There also seems to be less need to act out or clamor for attention when kids feel secure. When they don't, they will often act out in order to get attention. If that fails, they may try riskier behaviors, testing their parent's commitment to love and rescue them.

Children feel more loving when they see love demonstrated. When hugs and pats and kind words are exchanged between parents, kids feel the vibes between Mom and Dad. They see the tender looks and hear the sentiments expressed. On the other hand, in a home where one never demonstrates love for the other parent, children lack the example they need. Later, they may have trouble expressing love in their own marriages.

What a wonderful thing for children to witness the love-in-action that binds their parents together! We tend to think tots are too young to understand the basics of marital love and commitment, but they aren't. Their built-in emotional radar is busy registering the good, the bad and the ugly. How much better if they see love and kindness modeled before them. When that occurs, their hearts and minds store up pleasant images, good feelings and happy memories.

Back to the flowers, cards and candy ...

Whatever it is you receive on this special day, express your thanks and share with the children. Display flowers in a prominent place and pass the chocolates. Reaffirm your love for the kids and your spouse. When you do that, you're giving your child a gift far sweeter than candy -- you're giving them security. As a result, they'll one day know how to express love to the person they marry.

Pass the chocolates, please, and Happy Valentine's Day!

Do you see it, too?

2011-02-12T07:14:00.000-08:00

I noticed something in this photo the other day that I hadn't seen before. At first glance, it simply appears as a candid shot of a man and child, but there is something happening here that merits closer attention ...

Notice the posture and stance of the little guy. He isn't straining against the hand on his shoulder (or the hand would be gripping, not resting). He isn't leaning forward to get away, nor does he appear unhappy or impatient. He is relaxed, resting, and waiting for further instructions.

How unlike us most of the time! We seldom know how to stop and wait patiently. Instead, we are on the move, leaning forward into the wind, so to speak, and anxious to make headway.

Oh, how we need to be willing to wait on the Lord's instructions! All too often, we strain against His hand on our shoulder and ignore that still, small voice in our ear ... the One that quietly instructs and guides us toward still waters. We're much too tempted to run ahead and make our own way, even if we don't know where the path leads.

In this particular photo, my husband is telling our grandson to stop and wait, and he does. The occasion was a pinewood derby race with hundreds of people in a large, noisy gym. If Ethan had kept going, he would have gotten lost or run over.

Sometimes, when we continue on our meandering paths, pulling our backpacks of life behind us, we fail to notice our surroundings. There are twists in the road of life, and it's easy to lose our way. Danger may even loom nearby. If we are too busy getting where we want to go, we'll hurry ahead of the Lord and run into trouble.

How much better off we are to walk close to the Father, to listen to His voice, to respond to His touch and then wait for His instructions.

When bad weather is a blessing ...

2011-02-03T18:31:00.000-08:00

Our Heavenly Father is a perfect parent. Perhaps He does what He does at times just to get our attention? I wrote the following blog after listening to news about the bad weather and snowstorms across America...

When bad weather stops us in our tracks, perhaps God is giving us one more opportunity to "stop going about business as usual." It's when things come to a dead halt that we begin to see one another as fellow human beings who suffer the same inconvenience, discomfort and frustration. We then are able to work together, making sure there is water, food, warmth and shelter for everyone.

In other words, we momentarily forget our importance, our educational background, our skin color and our employment status. Side by side, Americans are working to shovel snow and push cars out of ditches. There is a feverish rush to rescue young children, the elderly, the disabled and then all the rest of mankind (and his animals, if possible).

It is the urgency of the situation that goads us on. No one is forcing our hand; we work together in order to survive. Then, and only then, are we reminded that none of us is better than the other; no one deserves anything more than the person next to them. We are all creatures in need of Divine intervention and rescue.

Days later, when the sun breaks through and the ice and snow begin to fade away, we go back to business as usual -- our jobs, our families, our homes and our hobbies. Back to our busy rush of daily life, we tend to forget what it was we learned out there in the trials of a snowstorm.

How good and gracious of God to slow us down with the weather on occasion! How good He is to remind us that it is not power or prestige that matters -- it is humility and serving others in His name. Only then are we in the right frame of mind to acknowledge this truth: The One Who created this earth and everything in it has the sovereign right to rule over it as He sees fit.

Photo credit: AP/Photo - Pat Wellenbach for the Huffington Post

Love those little faces!

2011-01-30T03:49:00.000-08:00

We parents have the privilege of watching our children grow physically and emotionally. The little people we love go through moods and phases (much like we do).

What a responsibility we have as their guides and guardians! As they follow us around, observe our interactions with others and what life hands us, they learn from us. They quickly learn to imitate those same moods and phases, emotions and reactions they see in us. Scary thought, huh?

Hope you'll take a minute to enjoy the photos I've shared below. You've gotta love these little faces!

Animated

Contemplative

Curious

Excited

Startled

Embarrassed

Mischievous

Confident

Shy

Intrigued

Uncertain

... and everything in between!

We can see ourselves reflected in their images -- both physically and emotionally.

Looking at our children is a lot like looking into a mirror. Are you comfortable with what you see?

A real man -- in every sense of the word

2011-01-22T07:05:00.001-08:00

My Dad's first lesson in being a man began when he was just a boy of eight or nine. That's when his own father -- under a street lamp in Brooklyn, New York -- turned and walked away from a wife and four young children.

In January, this memory seems to touch my heart on a deeper level. I suppose that's because it is during this month -- the month he died in 1991 -- that I miss him most.

My Dad was a real man in every sense of the word. As a child, he stepped up to the plate and took on the role model of family man. He took that responsibility very seriously, especially when his Mom was at work and he was in charge of two younger brothers and a sister.

That's a lot to put on the shoulders of a young boy, but my grandmother didn't have any other choices ... until the state stepped in and put them in foster care. It must have nearly destroyed my Dad to be separated from his siblings. Were they safe? Who was caring for them? Would he ever see them again?

My grandmother eventually gathered up her children and moved out of state to live with her sister's family. Life was hard, times were tough and two families under one roof have to work at getting along. Dad continued to watch out for his siblings and did what he could to help provide for them.

Some people wither under pressure and become victims of their circumstances. I think the difficulties my father faced worked to strengthen him, instead. He was determined to try harder, work longer and reach higher with an eye toward the future.

Dad later joined the Army, became a radio operator and learned Morse code on one of those old-fashioned finger-tap models. Later, he was among ten soldiers who were handpicked and shipped out under cover of night to a base in Oregon during World War II. Their job was to study the Japanese secret code and break it ... and they did.

It was on a visit to his sister's home back in Missouri that my father met my mother and won her heart. She likes to recall how he told her that when they married, he wanted to make their house a real home. I believe, after his life experience, a real home meant somewhere to settle in, knowing you're loved, accepted and always welcome.

I'm thankful Dad overcame the tough times he experienced. Instead of becoming bitter, he became better -- as a son, an older brother and, eventually, as a man. He would not abandon responsibility and walk away from hard times. Instead, he would stand up taller, roll up his sleeves and meet it head on. And he did, time and time again.

Dad didn't get to finish school as a child, but he got a lot of education around our supper table at night. It was there he'd ask questions and show interest in our school experience. We never suspected just how hungry he must have been to catch up on what he'd missed. All along, he was picking up on things like grammar and punctuation and storing it away for future reference.

Back to Brooklyn, New York: I don't know why my grandfather abandoned his wife and children and vanished like a mist in the night. As far as I know, he never contacted them again. What I *do* know is that his actions caused a young boy to basically abandon childhood and put on the mantle of manhood.

Dad made it his mission to love, protect and provide for his siblings and mother. While it wasn't easy, it became the training ground for his future family -- the one I grew up in. The way he embraced his responsibility and put his whole heart into it left a lasting impact on all of us. That, and the fact that he never walked away from us. Instead, his homecoming every night was something we kids and Mom could count on.

When joy accompanied a cry ...

2011-01-10T18:59:00.000-08:00

Twenty five years ago, I was lying in a hospital bed in Huntington, West Virginia, on January 10th, 1986.

Just a few hours earlier -- after an intense labor -- our third child, Kevin, was born. When he made his first gasp, it was extremely weak. Then, when we heard a genuine cry, my heart sang! But it wasn't that way just seconds before ...

As Kevin made his entry to our world, the doctor immediately spotted a problem. The umbilical cord was wrapped tightly around his neck three or four times, and he was in distress. I heard the doctor talking to someone in the room. He repeated himself twice, and his voice getting louder. That's when I realized he was talking to me.

"Stop pushing."

It's a little hard to put the brakes on when you're at the point of no return, but the doctor's voice was firmly insistent. My husband was also leaning over me to catch my eye and was repeating, "He's got to cut the cord ... there's a problem and the baby is in trouble."

It seemed hours went by, but in reality it was just seconds later when our newborn son was released from the umbilical cord and gave a lusty cry. Our son was alive and squawking in protest!

All I wanted to do a that moment was hold my child, but a nurse had whisked him away and was working with him. I watched as she rubbed his wrinkled little back and tucked him inside a cozy, white blanket. My arms were reaching for him, but he was taken to the neonatal nursery for further observation.

Twenty-five years ago tonight, I rested in my hospital room while newborn Kevin nuzzled up against me. It was just the two of us then, because Phillip had gone home to be with Kevin's big sister and brother, ages 5 and 3. Me? I lay there basking in the goodness of God. The joy that accompanied my son's first little cry was still making my heart sing!

Kevin is a young man now -- and one we are proud to introduce to everyone we meet. As a former grunt with the U.S. Marines, he's a great mix of tough and tender.

On the birthday card we gave him, the verse inside reads: "You look at this little boy all grown-up and think, Hey, he turned out good!" And he did. Kevin is pictured here with his girlfriend Lourie. I'm so very thankful to be his Mom!

When kids make resolutions ...

2011-01-03T11:01:00.000-08:00

They do, you know. Kids make resolutions all the time, but they don't wait for New Years' Day to do it. Listen to children talk sometime and notice the way their resolutions evolve as they learn and discover more about life ...

I'm gonna be an astronaut when I grow up.
I'm gonna learn to fly a shuttle when I get bigger.
I'm gonna borrow library books about shuttles and astronauts!

I want to be a teacher!
I'm going to fix a desk and get my books so I can teach school.
Look, Mommy! My stuffed animals are at school. Now I'm a teacher!

The wonderful thing about children is that they don't wait until a certain time of life to resolve something ... they do it immediately, if possible, or at least give it a go before they lose interest. Their youthful energy and determination is helpful in developing new ideas and skills.

Even in the hypothetical cases above, if those children don't stick with their ambitions to be an astronaut and teacher, they still have achieved great things and are wiser than before they decided to reach for their dreams. Any new information taken in, any reading, practicing or play-acting they do has given them confidence to try other new things.

Too much of the time, we grown-ups lack the ambition, courage and/or gusto to tackle new things. We put off making any attempt and end up losing our resolve along the way! I don't know about you, but I still have pending projects and some downright rusty resolutions lying around somewhere.

There is nothing wrong with resolving or making resolutions to do better or improve or reach for a goal. If writing it down or sharing it with others helps us be accountable, that's a good thing. I admire people who stick to their goals and manage to accomplish a long-held dream.

Sometimes, however, I wonder if resolutions should be made with this in mind: The greatest accomplishment may not be in finishing everything we resolve to do but in at least attempting to do it. How else can we figure out if we like something or have the ability to accomplish it until we give it a whirl?

In the past, I've made a sort of "resolution' to learn to crochet. Oh, I did learn enough to make a few simple items, but there was no "Aha!" moment making afghan squares. I've learned to sew and have made clothing, lap quilts and more ... but sewing isn't my gift nor my passion. I've even tackled a few art projects (sketching, painting) but that's definitely not my cup of tea.

BUT I learned something each time I piddled and pretended -- just like a child pretending to be an astronaut learns a lot more about space shuttles and the people who fly them. If we never try something, we'll never know if we like it or not and whether it fits who God made us to be.

We learn something when we attempt new skills, and we discover some things we *don't * want to major on. This can free us up to be who we were really meant to be, not what others expect us to be.

After many years of dabbling in various projects, I've come to realize (and rest in the fact) that I love words -- studying them, writing them down in journals, connecting them to write articles and poetry. That's what I have a passion for, and I believe it's what God meant for me to do all along!

I'm just Nan ...
... an over-grown kid who still dreams a lot of dreams and tries lot of things to make sure she hasn't missed anything important. I suppose if I did make a resolution this year, it would be simple but yet profound: "I just wanna be the best me He made me to be."

The best gifts of all aren't always wrapped

2010-12-26T15:20:00.000-08:00

Many parents spend a lot of money to shower their children with gifts. Much of the time, the children tear into one after another and rush to see what else awaits.

When I was a little girl, a family we know went "all out" to spend on their children at Christmas. Okay, I'll admit I was a bit jealous and thought life was unfair at times. My friend had two new dolls and at least a half-dozen other gifts! I got one or two things, at most.

A few weeks later it was obvious the gifts next door weren't treasured, perhaps because they were so abundant. They'd been flung or tossed into corners, some were already broken or dumped on the trash pile out back. I was in shock!

Looking back, I'm thankful my parents couldn't afford to give like that. Not getting everything I wanted or thought I needed was a valuable lesson in the reality of life. Gifts are nice, but they have a short-term impact. Parental love and training, have a long-term effect on the lives of little people.

So what are the very best gifts we can give our children?

UNCONDITIONAL LOVE ~
Children need to know they are loved no matter how much they accomplish (or don't accomplish), how badly they mess up or how tired and cranky they are. It would be cruel to withhold our love based on their behavior.

The Heavenly Father gives us the perfect example of unconditional love. He loves us even when we fail, when we stumble and when we whine. His love isn't based on performance. It is based on our relationship to Him. He will always be our Father, and we will always be His children.

This doesn't mean He ignores our tantrums and our poor conduct. Not at all! To let us act up in such a way would mean He is uninvolved or unconcerned about our behavior. What a blessing to know He is firm enough to correct us and yet gentle enough to hug us close when we confess our sins. Fellowship restored is the goal.

FOCUSED ATTENTION ~
How do we respond when *our* children need attention? If we seldom make eye contact when they speak or rarely turn around to see what they want to show us ... what message are we sending them? I'm just too busy to listen right now, or, What you want isn't all that important! How sad that must make children feel. How insignificant!

Aren't you glad our concerns also concern the Lord? He cares and is always available when we approach Him or cry out from a distance. Our Father knows where we are at all times, and He watches over us in love. Another amazing thing ... He is approachable and gives His focused attention to each of His children.

GOOD GIFTS ~
What is a good gift? Often, it is something the recipient truly needs. Sometimes, it is just a special item that is desirabld. We love to delight our children with good gifts, and we would never give them something we knew to be destructive or harmful ... would we?

It pays to consider if something on a child's wish list is really good for them. Popular items hawked in sale papers make a lot of money for the seller, but at what cost to our children? What our children see and read and imitate really do have an impact on their lives.

Every good gift is from above, and comes down from the Father of lights ..."

The Lord never gives something that will tempt us to stray or sin. Sometimes what He gives us may not seem very exciting or desirable at the time, but we can be assured it is for our good in the long run. Other times, we rejoice when a long-held wish is fulfilled in His perfect time.

Take, for instance, the fact we just had our first white Christmas in 21 years! While that may not seem very important to some of you -- to us here in Alabama, it was truly a beautiful gift. One to be treasured and enjoyed, photographed and discussed! ;-)

Remember, the very best gifts we give our children aren't always wrapped. They aren't always tangible and may not seem to be desirable at the time (warm socks and clothing aren't high up on kids' lists)... but they are always given with the good of the recipient in mind. Other gifts are wrapped and adorned with ribbons and bows, and that's okay, too.

The gifts we give our children will always be appropriate if we imitate our Heavenly Father in giving. He always chooses gifts that are good, appropriate, for our benefit and often for our delight! He also gives from a heart of love. As parents, we should do the same.

Gifts and Grumpies

2010-12-20T10:12:00.001-08:00

During the holidays, a lot of families will get together and share meals, memories and more. Gifts are often part of the equation, and how parents handle that event with children is important. Let's take a peek at a typical holiday gathering ...

After a quick survey of goodies, a Gift Grumpy might say, "The biggest box is gonna be MINE."

Another Grumpy opens a gift, tosses it aside and whines, "This ain't a present... it's only some clothes."

Some Grumpies will hurry through opening a stack of gifts and then ask, "What *else* did you get me?"

And the grand finale -- after receiving their goodies and glancing at them with a yawn, all the Grumpies tend to wear expressions that say, "What can we do now? We're bored."

So how do parents train their children to be appreciative? Here's one idea ...

When our niece was a toddler, her parents wisely involved her in the gift exchange from the get-go. Instead of surrounding her with a pile of presents and making her the center of attention, they asked her to help hand out everyone's gifts.

What a cute little helper she was -- squatting to pick up packages and taking them to the proper recipient (with a little help from Dad or Mom). We all made a big deal of thanking her and she loved it. Once everyone had their packages, she was ready to plop down and open her own. Smart parents.

They later had another daughter, who was designated as primary gift-passer-outer when she became a toddler. Laina loved her job and we loved watching her delight in "giving!" At ages 7 and 11, these girls are still very thoughtful, gracious and giving -- to their wise parents' credit.

Consider some ways to involve your children in the giving process. As you shop, ask your son or daughter's help in choosing gifts for others. This can be as simple as holding up two similar items and asking, "Which do you think Gran would like best?" Go with his choice and let him help wrap the gift or tape it closed. When the gift is opened, make it a point to tell one who receives it that your child helped select it.

Just as there are many types of families and all different kinds of personalities, there are many ways to train children to use good manners and show gratitude. It may be as simple as saying a genuine Thank you! to the giver right away.

Children can also be taught to write (or draw) thank you notes after-the-fact. We were delighted to receive crayon scribbles from our 19-month old grandson after he received his birthday package. His Mommy wrote, Thank you, Nana and Papaw, From Ethan, at the bottom of the drawing, and I imagine she said it aloud while doing it.

There are other ways to express thanks. How do you teach your children to be grateful and appreciative? Do you take advantage of gratitude training during holiday gifting? -- Please share with us -- and most of all ...

How do *you* avoid the dreaded Gift Grumpy?

Our parents made holidays special ...

2010-12-17T20:46:00.000-08:00

I can almost hear it now -- the rustle and crackle of gift wrap on the other side of our parents' bedroom door. Daddy was inside there, and he was making more racket than necessary, because he loved making us squeal with impatience!

Are you almost finished wrapping them NOW?

We could hear his soft 'Heh-heh' chuckle, knowing he had our full attention. I'm convinced he prolonged the process just to make us squirm, giggle and squeal. And try to guess what he and Mom had bought for us on their holiday shopping spree.

Daaa--ddy!!!

With very little money, our parents still managed to make the holidays special for six children in the 1950's. We each got one special gift, something hand-picked by parents who knew their children well. It was many years later I realized we were poor as church mice back then.

Dad's job as carpenter was steady during summer, and it was during those months he and Mom would buy extra supplies to store away for lean winter months. We may have been on a tight budget, but the love and laughter in our home made up for other things we lacked.

Back to Dad torturing us with prolonged gift wrapping procedures... I didn't dare run to use the bathroom during that time, because I didn't want to miss anything! So I crossed my legs and danced from one foot to the other. ;-)

Pleeeeez hurry up, Daddy!

Mom was usually behind us in the kitchen making tasty treats. Her apple pies were made from scratch, and she always used Jonathan apples. Once they were sliced and placed in the bottom crust, she'd add sugar, cinnamon and dots of butter. Next, the top crust was lovingly placed over all before the decorative crimping began. I liked watching her thumb and forefinger gently pinch the dough around the edges of the pie pan.

Other treats she made: Chocolate fudge, pretty divinity, puffy macaroons, peanut butter cookies and more. Daddy usually picked out the store-bought candies. Among them, we could count on Brach's chocolate stars and peanut clusters, jellied orange slices and colorful hard candies. There was also a big bowl filled with nuts of all kinds -- English walnuts, pecans, hazelnuts and Brazil nuts. A nutcracker and handy pick were always nearby.

Oh ... I can practically taste those goodies again, and I can almost hear Dad behind the door wrapping gifts, too (crinkle, crackle ...). When he was *finally* finished, he really enjoyed parading past us with those mysterious packages. I don't remember name tags on our gifts, which may have been part of prolonging the joyful suspense of guessing?

"I think that one's mine ... it's big enough for a doll!"

"Or mine," our little brother would chime in. "It might be a fire truck."

Oh, the torture of not knowing! Visions of various gifts -- not sugar plums -- danced in our heads at night while we cuddled down to sleep. Whose package was the biggest? The one with the unusual shape?

Christmas morning, the mysteries were solved as gifts were handed out and opened. On the occasions our St. Louis grandmother joined us, we each got an extra gift. The year I got a little tea set from my parents and a pretty doll from Grandma, I felt rich, indeed!

Several years ago we got to return to the old home place. I knocked on the door, apologized for dropping by unannounced and asked the owners if I could, perhaps, take a quick peek at my childhood home? They were gracious enough to invite me in with a smile and even asked questions about the good ol' days.

What a shock to see how tiny that house on Oakwood Avenue really was! How in the world did eight people manage to live in such a cracker box? The living room wall had since been bumped out to include our parents' former bedroom -- which made it a grand 16 x 12, if that. The rooms where gifts were wrapped -- and later opened -- were now united.

Our house was indeed tiny, but it was big enough to grow a family on a shoe-string budget. It was also big enough to build a happy childhood for six children. And all because of two precious parents who loved us...

I'm all wrapped up in some
wonderful holiday memories tonight!

A Hands-on Dad

2010-12-13T10:38:00.000-08:00

I couldn't help noticing, in the past few weeks, how many dads nowadays are more "hands-on" in their parenting. Take, for instance, the young dad helping his son pick out a greeting card. Squatting down to his level, he allowed him to pick the cards he liked best. Five minutes and ten cards later, he finaly said, "I like *this* one," and they walked hand in hand to the register to buy it.

And what about the dad who made sitting in the shopping cart FUN so he could corral the kids and his wife could shop in peace? He had them smiling and fully entertained, happy to have his undivided attention. I thought, "Now there goes a real man ... and a grateful mom!"

Perhaps the most vivid illustration of hands-on fathering was while visiting our son and his family over Thanksgiving weekend. Jason, at 28, stays fully involved in the parenting process ... from feeding, diapering, babysitting, and picking up baby food and diapers on the way home.

My favorite was their interaction after time apart. Our son's big hands encircle Jason Cody's waist and lift him up to look him in the eye. In a manly growl, our son greets his son ... "Hey, little buddy..." to which our grandson replies in his own baby growl, "Dad-deeee!"

After supper they would play hide and seek, toss the ball, ride the rocking-horse and then, after kisses all around, it was off to bath to splash and play with tub toys. Back downstairs again, it was snack time and then story books.

When Jason Cody's eyes began to droop, our son handed him over to Kerry, who took him up to bed. What a joy to watch them share the joys and responsibilities of child-rearing!

Dads today are encouraged to get more involved with their children. I believe hands-on parenting from a loving, committed father produces confidence in children. They are not only interacting with someone who loves them, they are gaining valuable insight into what good parenting is all about.

Changes in the parenting process

2010-12-11T10:24:00.000-08:00

Some subtle shifts and adjustments ...

When the children were young and still at home, I learned a lot about parenting by just being a parent. As they grew, my skills did too, and my experience served as a support when facing new situations. It was a day-by-day growing up process for me as a parent.

Then there were the school years, and in our case, homeschooling our children. I didn't intend to continue straight through from K-12, but that's how it unfolded. We found our children loved being schooled at home and we enjoyed it, too. As a Mom, it was a real challenge and motivator in my life to know I was shaping three children for the world beyond our doors. Thankfully, the principal (their Daddy) was very much involved, too, and we are thankful for those 18 years of hands-on education.

Later, as they grew up and flew the nest, I learned yet more parenting skills. The most obvious was learning how to breathe and trust they would be okay when I was no longer a hands-on Mom. Our children were now out in the 'big world' for which we had been preparing them all along -- but it was still scary. Would they remember to buckle their seat belts, watch out for the other driver, not get lost on the freeway? Would they do well in college, as employees, as roommates? Would they (ahem) survive without me?

I'm thankful to tell you they did survive and thrive. Our youngest is advancing in his career as an IT specialist; he is also taking classes to further his skills and has been tapped to possibly move up as supervisor on his job. At 24, he shows a maturity that is a profound blessing to us.

His older brother is finishing college after continued service with the USMC, majoring in homeland security and studying Arabic. There may be other deployments in his future, and as a Mom, I must trust he's man enough to know how to care for himself in that, but I will still do a lot of praying. I'm thankful to say he's also a good husband to our daughter-in-law and great Dad to our precious 14-month old grandson.

Our only daughter went through college and on to graduate school to earn a Masters degree in music/piano. She now teaches private lessons in her home and plays keyboard for the choir her husband directs at their home church. It's a blessing to know she's happily married, loves to go hunting with her man, and is a happy homemaker and mom to our 19-month old grandson.

So where does this leave me as a parent? I'm not planning to abandon my post anytime soon. In fact, I love getting those phone calls asking for tips and advice, a recipe, a photo from childhood, or just to see how hubby and I are doing. Hey, I'm still SUCH a Mom, as the boys used to say, and I love my job!

As for the subtle shifts and changes, I'm in a different phase of parenting, now. In fact, I have been over the past year or two and especially the past six months as I assist our parents. I'd always heard of children "parenting their parents" and now understand what that involves. My responsibilities will increase as they age, but I am thankful to help them as I can.

My father-in-law, who is 89, is the same man that raised my husband to be a hard worker, a person of integrity and a good family man. He is still that example of integrity and strength of character himself, but he has a little trouble putting on his jacket or remembering the names of his grandchildren, and that's okay. It's a blessing to assist and accompany this man I call "Dad."

My mother, who is 86 years old, raised six children, fed a family of eight and made a nice home for all of us. She could make a wonderful meal centered around a few cheap cuts of meat and we were none the wiser. Mom still cooks, but there is the concern of her leaving the burners on. I help her with daily decisions and banking and remind her how to take her medicines. The woman who taught me so many things has almost forgotten how to do them herself.

Do I say these things to be disrespectful? Not at all --I only share them to point out the changes that have taken place in our parenting process. As I tie a shoe or button a button, buckle them in the car or serve our parents in other ways, I want my touch to be tender and my speech to be seasoned with love and respect.

As long as this earth stands, there will be changes in the parenting process. From raising our own tiny newborns to adults and then having a few years before assisting our own parents -- these changes occur in the natural parenting process. May we always remember that "parenting someone is more than just a process. It is the choice to do it with our hearts."

Waking up to new faces ...

2010-09-18T09:08:00.001-07:00

Imagine how it must be for the very young child who wakes up to new faces ... what a traumatic experience. This can occur when overnight care has to be arranged during emergencies or while the child is asleep.

As usual, they may stand up in the crib or sit in the bed and call out for the parent, especially if they are afraid or disoriented. When babies cry for nourishment or comfort, they expect (and anticipate) the moment the parent comes into the room. Held and cuddled, they are comforted, fed and secure in knowing they are safe and loved.

Now think of their confusion and fear when a new face appears! Who is this stranger in their room? More importantly, where are Mommy and Daddy? This can be especially frightening in the middle of the night when the child isn't fully awake. Panic may then ensue and the child can be hard to comfort.

A loving parent has no desire to leave a child like this, but once in awhile, it may be necessary. When that happens, they'll go to great lengths to find someone the child already knows, like a trusted relative or friend. On those rare occasions when someone unfamiliar must be called in, the parents fret and worry how it will affect their little one.

Aren't you glad our Heavenly Father doesn't have to find sitters or substitutes to care for His children? He is always available to watch over us, and He is never called away. Neither does He deal with unexpected events nor emergencies. As Sovereign Lord, He knows what is going to happen and is fully capable to handle every situation.

For some reason, when we adults are troubled, darkness has a way of shadowing our peace and stealing our sleep. Perhaps results from a recent medical test are pending, and we fear the prognosis. Maybe our savings have been depleted due to unemployment or hospitalization, and we wonder how we'll manage in the months ahead. Or it could be the heartache we feel for a child or grandchild who has gone astray ...

In the dead of night, we feel hungry for comfort and safety, and our hearts cry out for help! What a blessing when our Lord is always the One who will hear and answers our call! It is the Lord who soothes and calms us when we our sleep is disturbed. We relax again, knowing our Father is as close as a prayer, and His ears are open to our cry.

The next morning, our circumstances may not have changed a bit, but we have a loving Father Who holds our hand and walks with us. The more we get to know our Lord, the more familiar He is to us.

Aren't you thankful, when we face those middle-of-the-night fears, that our Heavenly Father is always on call? He never takes time off or sends in a substitute. He is ever aware and always there. What a comfort!

Alaska's First City

2010-09-10T12:33:00.000-07:00

As I mentioned before, sometimes parents need a little get-away ...

Now that our children are grown, we are helping care for *our* parents in their golden years. (Hubby's Dad is 89, my Mom is 86.) Because of their failing health, we figured this was our last year to take a major vacation for awhile.

So ... I'll take up here where my last blog left off and give you a brief sketch of the third major leg of our journey to Alaska. Ketchikan was our next port of call ...

The first thing you notice when sailing into port are hundreds of fishing boats -- all sizes, shapes and colors -- and most with a name painted on the side. Names as simple as Maggie or Suzie Lou and others more creative -- Six Pence, Fishin' King, Sea Pearl, Alaskan Star, and more. What an intriguing sight they made against a backdrop of towering mountains!

When we stepped on shore, we hurried to meet our tour guide for the popular Duck Tour. That's my hubby standing by the amphibious bus. After everyone was on board, the "duck" rumbled to life and drove us around to get a general overview of the business and residential areas.

We spotted houses on such steep hills, it takes a major stairway to get up to them! Our guide lived in one of those homes and told us if at least two residences are situated up those hills, it officially is declared a street and given a proper name. You can see below how mountainous the area is. The building in the foreground is the Ketchikan High School.

She also grinned, "When you have 50-75 stairs going up to your house, it only takes ONE time of forgetting your car keys and having to trek back up all those stairs again! After that, you learn to take them down the first time."

The house with a totem pole was located on a lower level closer to the main street. Our guide told us this totem pole was given as an anniversary gift by a man to his wife. He must have loved her very much -- the price tag on this hand-carved pole was $60,000!

The second part of our tour was in the water. After driving around town, Captain Kai turned toward the harbor, went down a ramp and drove the bus right into the water. We could hear the boat motor take over soon after. Being out on the water gave us a different view of the town and got us right in the middle of the action!

Seaplanes buzzed like bees overhead, fishing boats puttered by on their way back to shore and eagles skimmed the water to catch fish. All those windows on the duckmobile made it possible to feel up close and personal with all the activity around us. You can see our cruise ship in the background.

In the photo below, our tour guide Erin is holding some bull-whip kelp, a plant that grows in Alaskan waters. It does, indeed, look like some kind of huge whip! Erin just leaned out the door while we puttered along and snatched it up to show us. The plant has many uses, including basket making.

Out on the water, we passed this boat of fishermen who were just tying up in the harbor. Our captain pointed out the way their boat was listing to the left as it moved toward shore. He said this meant they'd gotten a huge catch of salmon.

Once back on shore, we hiked up a street in the middle of town and visited a little park for a rare treat. There, we were privileged to get up close to a male adult eagle who is part of an education effort in Ketchikan.

Thor was injured a few years ago when he stepped into a trap. It tore off one of his back talons and destroyed the feathers of his right wing. He is unable to fly or hunt, so the Wildlife Rescue Association cares for him year round. A healthy 8-year old, Thor has learned quite a few tricks and is very responsive to his keeper.

Not long after visiting Thor, we had to head back to the Oosterdam. There's a good bit of nostalgia involved in saying goodbye and sailing away from one of the United State's most beautiful spots. I'm glad we had the experience of going to Ketchikan, and I hope someday we can go back again. What a lovely place to experience Alaska!

We visit Sitka, Alaska

2010-08-20T10:40:00.000-07:00

Sitka, Alaska was a very lovely spot ...

... and probably my favorite port call on our cruise. It was a beautiful, historic town that seemed to say, "We're glad you're here!" The smaller shops, quiet neighborhoods, friendly folks and quaint buildings were a nice change of pace.

A couple boys and their dad were manning a Sitka version of fast-food -- hot-dogs and cold drinks on the main street corner. Instead of hot-dogs, we got reindeer-dogs! The meat had a robust flavor and was quite good, too.

In front of a hardware store, a young woman named Traci sold children's books she'd written. At her feet sat a beautiful dog named Tango, a duck-tolling retriever who is the main character of her colorful books.

Traci explained how Tango has retrieved some pretty important things -- including boys, rafts and more. He obviously loves his mistress, because he wouldn't leave her side for a moment. We bought a copy of her two books and her sign them for our grandsons.

Just down the road, children were climbing on a concrete whale at the local park. Odd to us, but perfectly fitting here, where whales can be seen in Alaskan waters. Across the way, you can see other children having a home-made cookie sale in their front yard. We bought a giant oatmeal raisin treat from a little salesman who was more than happy to take our dollar.

Many of the other folks from our ship had gone on outbound excursions -- fishing trips, hiking, biking and sea -plane ventures. We were happy to putter around town awhile and take photos of Mt. Edgecumbe, a dormant volcano, in the distance.

Before leaving Sitka, we huffed and puffed our way up the hundred or so (?) steps to a spot that overlooks the bay. There, we read about the history of the town and took a few photos before going back down to board ship.

The orange and white life boats in the photo below (they're in the background) returned to pick us up after our time in Sitka. They had delivered us to shore earlier due to low tide. The Oosterdam's gracious crew members made dozens of trips from ship to shore to ferry over 1800 guests back in time for a tasty supper on board ship.

If you're ever in Sitka, be sure to see the Russian dancers at the local theater and stop by the museum and gift shop. Take that hike up the hill and enjoy scenery like this ...

Sitka - and the lovely scenes surrounding her - will remain in my heart.

We visit Juneau, Alaska

2010-08-10T22:13:00.000-07:00

Welcome to Juneau!

As we approached the harbor, I was excited to see Juneau, our first port of call. The closer we got, the more obvious it was tourism was one of its main industries. Shops lined the streets and marched up the hillsides touting their main attractions -- furs and diamonds.

Phillip and I went into one shop, then another and another. Somehow, they all looked the same once you got inside. Granted, the jewels were beautiful and the sales clerks willing to serve us, but we were anxious for our whale-watching excursion.

In the meantime, our tour guide showed us the salmon hatchery and pointed out lots of eagles perched around the harbor. Smart birds -- they knew where to find a free meal. These chub salmon weighed an average of 12-15 pounds and were nearly 24 inches long!

And here are the free-loaders waiting for a tasty bite!

This fellow flew past our bus and landed on a hill nearby. Our driver stopped to let us snap his photo. Isn't he a beauty?

We also took a side trip to view the Mendenhall Glacier -- one of the prettiest we viewed on the entire trip. That's my hubby in the red jacket, and we are standing about 3 miles away from the glacier. It is HUGE.

A bit later, the bus driver delivered us to the designated dock where we met our pilot. Harv is one half of the "Harv and Marv" duo who provide whale-watching tours on small crafts near Juneau.

Our boat was fast and quite comfortable. As we zipped over the water, Harv gave us a lot of background on the area and pointed out interesting sites. There were only six of us on the tour, so we had a chance to get to know one another over the next three hours.

When his radio crackled with updates from a fellow whale-spotter, Harv turned to head that direction. When you're near whales, the first thing you'll usually notice is their "blowing" -- a sign they are preparing to surface.

And sure enough, they did! But by the time we got our cameras aimed and focused ...

... there wasn't much left to see. Take a look at the photo below -- rocks in the background make it harder to see the whale's tail, but it's there!
After an adventurous three hours on the water, we spotted at least six whales and watched them carefully. The boat was rocking on the waves at times, so I had to focus on standing up and not falling overboard. Which means I missed a few great shots. :-(

Nonetheless, we had a great time in Juneau and surrounding sites! In the photo above, you'll note we are zipping along back toward the harbor. A fitting snapshot to bring this to a close, don't you think?

A Dream Come True

2010-07-28T21:07:00.000-07:00

Back from Alaska ...

As parents whose nest is empty, we recently fulfilled a long-held dream ... our very first cruise. What made it even better was visiting Alaska, the "Last Great Frontier."

What a beautiful place it is! The sky seems clearer, the air cleaner, the ocean bluer. Being there was like being in a different world altogether... especially when leaving the humidity and triple-digit temps in the southeast for the northwest and cool temps in the low 50's!

It's not every morning you get to sail past icy-blue glaciers that loom 250 feet above the ocean and extend another 100 feet beneath its surface. We were overwhelmed by their beauty and stood in in awe of the way their Master Designer "tucked" them effortlessly between snow-capped mountains.

It's difficult to judge their size from a distance when you don't have a reference point. I would have guessed we were 500-1000 feet away. With nothing between our ship and the glacier to give us perspective, none of us knew we were miles away from it.

How does one describe such a massive presence? How does one capture its color and splendor? Not even the best camera can do justice to these rare beauties, yet dozens of us stood in cold rain with our cameras trying to do just that.

Back inside, I stopped in the Crow's Nest - a window-wrapped lounge on the top floor of the ship. Dave, the guest guitarist, was strumming the song, " How Great Thou Art. " He looked at me, shrugged his shoulders and smiled, "What else is appropriate when an awesome glacier is just outside your window?"

He was right, you know. A glacier puts things in perspective, even if only for a few moments. It's a testimony of how small we really are in comparison to a glacier. It's a reminder that years were invested in the formation of that great big "chunk of ice."

It's also an opportunity to pause and reflect on the One who formed the glacier and how He holds all things -- big and small -- in His hand. It's good to know we have a great big God that can handle all our concerns.

Visiting Alaska was a dream come true for hubby and me. I've got lots of photos to share -- from Juneau, Sitka, Ketchikan and other spots of interest. I'll be writing more about our trip in the days ahead and hope you'll ...

... stay tuned.

Celebrating freedom ...

2010-06-30T12:06:00.000-07:00

What does freedom mean to you?

Is it the right to worship the way you see fit ... the absence of tyranny? ... the liberty to speak up for what you believe without fear of losing your life? Perhaps the right to bear arms to protect your life, family and property?

To teens, freedom might be getting their driver's license or moving out on their own. To those on a restricted diet, freedom might mean splurging on occasion. There are many definitions of freedom, and the way we celebrate it varies.

When our children were younger, we taught them the story behind the freedoms they enjoy here in America. They heard about the Boston Tea Party, Paul Revere's ride and the signing of the Declaration of Independence. Along with those action-packed and celebrated events of early America, we shared other freedom stories from more recent history ...

... the freedom to reunite with family and friends when the Berlin Wall fell
... the freedom purchased for others by our brave troops
... the freedom won for civil rights of all people, regardless of color
... the freedom to choose our own style of education

We focused on freedom every July 4th and made it a special event for the kids. You can see them here with a cake they decorated in 1987. Just look at those proud grins!

Celebrating Independence Day was always a big deal at our house. A week early, my hubby would purchase a large pack of kid-friendly goodies that danced and sparkled, popped and wiggled. He then got something bigger and badder for himself -- the Roman candles, which would be shot off in a safe area.

We let our kiddos stay up late on those special nights. Summer skies don't really turn dark until 9 PM, you know, and they loved being in on the action! After supper, bath and pajamas, they would prance around the house and watch the clock.

"How much longer NOW?" was a question I answered a dozen times, at least. Then, when their Daddy gave the okay, they'd dash outdoors while hollering back over their shoulders -- "C'mon, Mom!"

In those days, I realllly didn't care to participate in the revelry outdoors. I could do without the noise and I sure wasn't crazy about the bugs! Call me a spoil sport, but after running interference and caring for three little people all day, I kinda liked the peace and quiet inside our house.

I look back now and realize part of that need to recede into the background was due to exhaustion and a lack of proper rest. Too many nights, I was up all hours trying to keep up with a busy household. The work was never done, but I kept chipping away.

But out I'd go, planning to stay about 10 minutes and slip back inside while Daddy was on duty. for at least awhile. Down at the end of the driveway I'd slide in behind them and listen to their chatter.

"Hey, did you see that one, Dad?"

"Look, sissy! I'm writing my initials in the air..."

I'd stand there and stare up at a blanket of stars, listening to the deep voice of my best man and the childish tones of our precious little ones at play.

The people I loved most in the whole world were within reach. Thankfully, they weren't in a hospital room or caught in the crossfire of snipers at war. They were here, in our neighborhood, in front of our home and on our own property.

Breathing deeply, I'd thank God we were healthy and happy and we were a family. In moments, they'd be clamoring inside for a treat of ice cream and July 4th cake. Earlier that day, we'd had the right to drive our own car to town and purchase whatever we wanted to eat whenever we wanted it. We had the freedom to do so.

That night, we would tuck our children into their own beds and kiss them goodnight, then retire to the living room and relive the evening and their delight. There were no soldiers banging on our doors to snatch us into the night. No fears of our children being left orphans if we got hauled off to jail for voting a certain way ... None of that, because we had the blessed privilege of freedom given to us by a loving God.

So we'd brush our teeth and head toward bed to sleep without interruption. Then we'd get up again in the morning and start the day as we chose ... and enjoy our freedoms all over again.

When you think about it, we all celebrate the gift of freedom every day of the year. I think our children have a handle on that attitude. The way they enjoy life and look at every day as a new adventure --- there's a lesson in there for all of us.

Happy Fourth!

All's well that ends well ...

2010-06-24T11:32:00.000-07:00

They say that "All's well that ends well, and yesterday certainly bore that out. Though, I must say, that's one day I'd rather not repeat for a long, long time (and never ever would suit me just fine).

It began at 3 a.m. when I woke with an irritated feeling. Nothing I could pinpoint, but just a restless, something-isn't-right feeling.

Moments later, I was kicking out from under the sheet and feeling panicky. Then it hit me ... I was reacting to a new medication -- "flushing" from head to toe.

By the time my feet hit the floor, my face was red and hot to the touch. Within 15 minutes, it had crept southward to my entire trunk, arms and legs.

I knew the routine and I knew what to do -- grab something cold to drink and a snack, and get somewhere cool -- like in front of the air conditioner. It worked and I survived, but now I was wide awake at four in the morning.

In the meantime my hubby had gotten up, taken one look at me and said "WOW." I don't think he was smitten by my bedhead and frumpled look -- he was commenting on my new skin tone: fire-engine red.

So what does one do at 4 AM when she can't get back to sleep? The same thing all the rest of you do, I betcha. I did some reading, surfed the internet and sent out some emails to fellow writers on my team. Next, I grabbed a quick shower so I could be ready to take my Mom for a very-early dental appointment.

Just out of the shower, my arms began to itch like crazy... as if ants were crawling under the surface of my skin. Crazy, huh? I rubbed and scratched and applied lotion and washed it back off again. The itching was getting much worse and I was getting panicky.

Then it hit me -- I had failed to put on sunblock the day before and my arms had a bit of sunburn. Just last month I found out I'm sun-sensitive due to a beta blocker for my atrial fibrillation. So ...

What's the chance of two different reactions on the same morning? I don't know, but I didn't have *time* for all of that! Grabbing cool cloths, I applied them to my arms and plopped down in front of the air again... praying, crying out to the Lord for help. And the clock kept right on ticking ...

Back in the bathroom to dry my hair and get dressed, I spied the sun-blocker the doctor had prescribed and slathered it on for the day ahead. My itching subsided within seconds. Thank You, Lord!

No time for breakfast now -- I dashed out the door, patted my doggie on the head and told him what I always tell him "Be a good boy. I'll be back after while, Lord willing." He usually whines a bit and plops his rear on the carport to watch me leave.

Yesterday, when I turned at the end of our driveway and started up the hill, I heard a loud thump on the right side of the car. Oh dear, had our neighbors left something near the road?

When I looked in my rear-view mirror, my heart nearly broke. It was our little Sport, and I'd just hit him with the car! He was half-running back to the drive where he dove into the drain pipe and disappeared.

I stopped the car, ran back to him and pleaded for him to come out. I needed to see if he was okay! Poor little guy would *not* come out, no matter how much I tried. The clock was ticking, and I had to go ...

Back in the car, my thoughts whirled and tumbled. I was quite sure nothing was broken, or he couldn't have run off. But what if I'd damaged him internally? Leaving him there was torment.

Would he stay in the drain pipe, go to sleep and die of heat exhaustion? Was he bleeding internally? Did he have head injuries? That's one of the longest days I've ever experienced -- leaving him behind because he was half-way into a 12-foot-pipe and wouldn't come out.

When I got back home, I looked for him there, but he wasn't there. That gave me a bit of hope! I went to the barn, the tractor shed, the neighbor's (where he has a girl-friend) and still couldn't find him anywhere.

I called and called, but he didn't come. Maybe he was *unable* to come. That was an even sadder thought.

All's well that ends well, right? Last night about 9:00, our doggie came hobbling into the yard. Today he is very stiff and sore, and we think the bumper must have caught his right flank.

There are no cuts and he is back to being himself other than walking like a little old man. I am so very grateful. This is the first time he's ever chased the car, and I hope it's the last.

Not every story has a happy ending. Sometimes it seems as if the first thing that goes wrong begins to snowball, collecting other bad things along the way. We get discouraged and defeated and plain ol' despondent.

We look for that cool drink in the midst of our fiery trials. We camp out in front of our virtual air conditioners and fan ourselves while whining and complaining to the Lord.

Thankfully, not every day starts out and progresses like my yesterday, and I'm glad the Lord cares about me in the midst of my pity parties. I'm also thankful He has promised that one day, the "bad" things in this life are going to end when He returns. And truly, at that moment, we can say,

All's well that ends well. Forever and ever!

Memories of Dad

2010-06-20T19:15:00.000-07:00

Dear Daddy ... I thought I'd write a note on this Father's Day, because it helps me remember the blessing of having you in my life for 36 years.

If you were still here, I'd want to give you a big hug and thank you again for so *many* things!

Thanks for loving our Mom and being faithful to her ... and coming home to your family every night. When I was about ten, I remember taking off your work boots and fixing you a big glass of iced tea in summer -- or a cup of hot tea in winter. I took that job very seriously and loved doing it.

Thank you for being a good father who loved and enjoyed his children. I remember how you nurtured and protected me as I grew up and how safe and secure that made me feel. And, oh yes -- thanks for kissing my boo-boos (even though you made a big deal of kissing the wrong finger or knee, making me laugh and forget about how badly they hurt).

Thanks most of all for being a godly man who taught me about life, faith, hope, joy and peace. I loved the way you gathered us in the living room before bedtime and prayed for us all. Thanks for making the Bible come alive to us --- the rattle of Goliath's armor, the whistle of David's slingshot, the roar of a lion or the bleat of a frightened lamb.

Today, on Father's Day, I thought about how you freely gave me the love, acceptance and protection that all children are supposed to experience. This, I believe, is what opens their hearts to the love of the Heavenly Father. I know it did mine, and I'm thankful you were the one who held me on your knee and talked with me about trusting Jesus as my Lord and Savior when I was a young girl of seven.

You are never very far from my thoughts. When I see a man with a full head of silvery white hair, it reminds me of you. Or how, when someone says, "It sure is raining down out there!" I think of how you would chuckle and say, "That's good -- I've never heard of it raining UP before!" And one other thing ... the smell of Old Spice aftershave still reminds me of you.

I think of you often and still miss you, Daddy, even though you've been "gone" the past 19 years. But I haven't lost you, because I know where you are -- with our Father in heaven. One day, I look forward to seeing you again. In the meantime, I just wanted to say once more, Thank you for being such a good Daddy!

With all my heart,
Your fifth daughter, Nan
---------------------------------------------------------
In memory of John Adam Keltie (1922-1991)
---------------------------------------------------------

Unexpected events ...

2010-06-14T22:29:00.001-07:00

Sometimes, being a Mom is one of the toughest jobs in the world. You think you've finally got it figured out, and then something unexpected pops up and nearly tears your heart in two.

We had been planning, for weeks, to have both married children and their spouses and little sons here for Memorial Day weekend. I had meal plans and schedules scribbled on my note pad, had shopped for groceries, laid out recipe cards and worked to get the house in order.

That was also the week we painted the front porch, a screened-in extra room for nice weather. The stain is a neutral color and brightens the concrete floor a LOT, making it look more like a room than a garage. :-)

I even got inspired to wield my paintbrush in other areas and chose an apple green for an old wooden chest that sits on the porch. One thing led to another, and soon I had a most-unusual-for-me color theme going. Apple green and mango, which came from a fabric print I found at Hobby Lobby. Everything I found for renovations was on sale - even the paint had a nice rebate!

But back to the kids' visit. Our son and his wife were to fly in from D.C. on Saturday morning and our daughter was hoping to come in early Monday or perhaps meet us somewhere and come on Sunday afternoon. Her hubby would be unable to make the trip.

On Thursday, our daughter called. She had been battling a sinus infection and was to see the doctor again that day. I fully expected her to be on the mend, so

I quipped, "And how are you by now?" thinking of the wonderful reunion just two days away.

"I've got pneumonia," she croaked.

Pneumonia!?! Our girl was so sick she had been in bed with fever all that week and after two rounds of antibiotics and a powerful shot, she was told, by her doctor, that she had to rest in order for her lungs to heal.

Long story short, she and her brother, whom she hadn't seen for 18 months, would not get to meet one another's children that weekend. I managed to be brave while on the phone with her, gave her some motherly advice about drinking fluids, resting, sleeping when their 14 month old slept, etc. When we said goodbye and hung up, my emotions burst like a dam. I think I cried enough tears to nearly run the river over.

We had so looked forward to our family being together for that one weekend! I grieved, for the next several hours, that our son and daughter (who are so very close in heart) wouldn't be seeing one another and that two little boys (cousins) would still be unable to meet one another for the first time. Talk about a letdown.

Thankfully, our son in law was off work that weekend and cared tenderly for our daughter and their son. It wasn't that I worried about a lack of assistance for her -- it was that I wanted, as Mom, to be doing what he was doing ... nursing our girl back to health.

Back to Jason and his family. Knowing Melissa was well-cared for gave me a chance to relax and enjoy time with our son, daughter-in-law and Jason Cody -- who has GROWN so much since New Years' Eve when we last saw him. He is such a delightful little guy who adapts well to new situations and new people.

It was his great-grandfather's first time to meet him, so that was extra special. It was also my Mom's first time to see him, too. He got lots of hugs and kisses! What a wonderful job our daughter-in-law and son are doing in teaching him. It's obvious they love him dearly and enjoy being parents.

Our time together was very special, and I was able to relax and enjoy it to the max. It wasn't easy saying goodbye to them when they drove away, headed to the airport. My hubby was standing there beside me, waving, and what he said fit the emotions of the moment. "This is the hard part." And it was.

We hope to see them again before the end of the year, but we know our grandson will do a lot of changing in that time. In fact, soon after they got back home, they called to say he'd sprouted his first tooth. ;-) It looks like he'll soon be walking, too -- and then life will really change for them all.

We don't expect this child to miss out on much of anything due to his bright curiosity! Kerry recently wrote beside a photo of him getting into things on a shelf, "Today I learned that everything within reach is no longer safe!"

I'm glad to finish this off by saying Melissa is much improved. She and her brother talked on the phone while she was here, and he's kept a check on her throughout her illness.

Bless those in their church family who stepped in to help and provide all their meals the last two weeks. We are also thankful for a 13 year old girl named Lauren who has been to their home to help out with Ethan. She's taken over while Melissa rested, allowing Ethan to do little-boy things, like toddling, half-running, going non-stop while awake to discover everything about just about everything in this big, fascinating world.

Though my heart was torn over the events that didn't turn out the way we had planned, we know there was a far greater plan working behind the scenes. We don't know what it is nor the reasons, but we trust in the One Who does know. And, to be honest, the awful rend in my heart that has now mended has made me stronger.

So ... I supposed I've passed a big hurdle as a Mom and Nana who felt she needed to be in two places at one time. I've learned through this experience (though I knew it in my head) that God was in both places, and He's far more able to care for our children than I am. He is faithful, and I can trust Him ... even with the unexpected events.

May 19th and its significance ...

2010-05-20T21:17:00.000-07:00

I'm a day late posting this, but it's much too important to let it slip by unmentioned...

My parents would have been married 66 years yesterday, May 19, had Daddy lived that long. It's a date that is special to me, because it's the day my parents began their journey together as a couple in the post-World War II era.

Celebrations and thanksgiving aside, life didn't look all that bright just after the war ended. Times were tough, families were broken by heartache and the loss of loved ones, and scraping by with what you had was part of the post-war effort.

In spite of all this, it was a hopeful time for Johnny Keltie and Myrtle Denton, because they'd found one another and fallen in love. Actually, it was my Dad that discovered my Mom -- and at the most inopportune time!

Mom was visiting her brother Jesse and his wife Florence in their little home, and she was an overnight guest on their living room couch. Aunt Florence had a brother named Johnny who was in the army, and he showed up to visit on a 3-day service pass the same weekend Mom was there.

In fact, he dropped in the very night my Mom was lying there on the couch with rollers in her hair! She was horrified to know a young man was in the room, so she pretended to be asleep. My Dad told his sister that he thought Myrtle was "cute."

It wasn't long after that they spent time together when Dad could get a pass. A few months later, in May of 1944, Daddy was home on leave and convinced my Mom to marry him. Dad was 21, and Mom was only 19 at the time, but it was a marriage ordained to happen, and it worked out nicely. It also produced six children!

How wonderful to have grown up in a home where we knew we were loved. Thanks, Mom, for making our home a clean and comfy place to return each day after school. Thanks, Daddy, for being our protector and provider. I miss you, and I'm glad you married my mother.

May 19th will always hold a special place in my heart.

Splish Splash ...

2010-05-15T16:35:00.000-07:00

There's nothing much sweeter than a baby in the bathtub! They don't mind getting clean when so much fun is going on. This is our grandson Jason Cody with his favorite rubber ducky.

I remember, as a little girl, taking baths with one sister or another, usually the one just older than me. Doubling up in the tub had several advantages ...

First, you're relatively safe in the water, (as long as you haven't provoked your sister). Second, it means somebody can wash your back for you. I was never good at using a long handled brush with a washrag wrapped around it.

Perhaps most importantly, doubling up meant saving hot water for Daddy's bath. That was one treat our hard-working father had to look forward to every evening.

Before his bath, though, we welcomed him home with hugs all around and something to drink -- Mom's wonderful iced tea in the summer and a hot cup of tea or coffee in winter.

Next, we'd take his work boots off and get him the mail. After relaxing a bit, he was ready to go soak in a very full tub of water. Dad may have had to live with a houseful of women (six of us), but he was treated like a king when he walked in the door.

As for our baths, we usually ran a little less than half a tub of water, knowing the level would rise and end up above our bellies when we got in and sat down. There was plenty to splash around and some left over when we got out. (For little brother, who would be last in the tub due to being a boy, and the only one at that). Hey, at a very young age, I already knew the main difference between boys and girls: Boys always got dirtier than we did!

Ah, those were the days. The simple, old-fashioned nuclear family days when you shared a bedroom, a bathtub, hand-me-down clothing, a family dinner table and the same parents your siblings had.

Things have changed a lot in the past 50 years ... most kids today have their own bedrooms and baths, a closet full of clothes they don't have to share, their own TV & cell phone, a game system, a computer, a car at 16 ... and on and on it goes.

Not that technology and a room of your own is bad -- I had to wait until I was in high school to have a room of my own -- and then it was only because all four of my older sisters had moved away to college by then.

But I think children today miss out on some things, too. The built-in bedroom buddy you inherit in a big family, the comfort of knowing you're never alone in a big house, the sharing of familiar heritage and family stories, and ... the bathtub.

Splish Splash, we DID take our baths -- mostly on Saturday nights!

Learning the Language

2010-05-07T19:11:00.000-07:00

Because children tend to mimic what they see and hear, we adults have to be on our best behavior. Our kiddos may be small, but they have a large grasp of spoken language. The photo here shows our grandson Ethan trying to communicate with his Papaw Phillip, my hubby.

I'll never forget the night back in 1981 when Ethan's Mommy was about 10 months old...

Phillip and I were sitting at the table with Melissa in her high chair at the corner of the table. She liked sitting there between us and would often mumble and coo as if joining in the supper conversation.

But that night, my hubby and I had some type of misunderstanding and both of us were silent instead of talkative. We thought we had kept our feelings private, but there Melissa sat, looking back and forth between us, whining.

Her little brow was wrinkled, trying to figure out what was going on between Mommy and Daddy. She would whine to me, then turn and whine to her daddy, as if to plead, "Talk to each other!"

That's when we, as first-time parents, learned that even a very young child picks up on the tension between people in the family. They just know. They can also tell when things are going along just right in their little world, enabling them to relax in play or at rest.

Little people learn to communicate by listening and observing their parents and others. No surprise, then, that they one day start trying out the words they've heard. Words like "Hi ... bye-bye... peek-a-boo... okay .... thank you and Uh-oh!"

A few weeks back when we visited Melissa and her family, my hubby got down on the floor to play a little game with Ethan. Phillip was at one end of the coffee table with a little plastic car counting ONE, TWO, THREEeeee! and would then give the toy a quick push. As it rolled off the other end onto the floor, he would look at Ethan and say, Uh-Oh!

Ethan loved toddling around the table, grabbing the car and toddling back to Phillip. Then he'd grin as if to say, "Do that again!"

And Papaw Phillip didn't mind a bit. ONE, TWO, THREEeeee! Before he could say UH-OH!, Ethan was already starting around the table to snatch the car again. This went on for 30 minutes, at least.

No surprise, then, that one of Ethan's first words was "Uh-Oh!" He sounded so cute on the phone when they called to say "Listen to Ethan's new word, Papaw and Nana ..."

At first, all we could hear was him breathing into the phone -- a sweet enough sound -- so we waited, and waited and waited ...

Then he said "Uh oh" and his Papaw said it back to him. Melissa said Ethan was smiling real big at that point. Seconds later, his own little Uh-Oh! was repeated several times in a row. He varied the pitch and volume as if trying it out on his tongue and liking what he heard.

He didn't say "Nana" or "Papaw," but that's okay. "Uh-Oh!" is a perfectly good start to learning the language. It won't be long before our little guy will be repeating more and more words. I don't really care what he says when they call us. He can say "Uh-oh" all day long, and this Nana's heart will still sing!

The joys of boys!

2010-04-14T20:57:00.000-07:00

Time to catch back up ...

I've been absent from blogging for quite some time due to travel and helping our parents with various health issues, but I wanted to catch you up on our boys...

Our Ethan turned one year old in March and has been walking for about a week. He still has those big, beautiful blue eyes and a mouth full of teeth -- eight of them, on last count.

Between the first and second picture, he also had his first haircut. Our precious boy is shown here on his first birthday, sitting in the same rocking chair that *his* daddy sat in on *his* first birthday 29 years ago.

Ethan is an outdoors-kind-of boy and loves to explore nature. He's learned to blow dried dandelion puffs, enjoys studying pine cones, rocks, bugs and flowers. I can imagine him being quite the hunter-fisherman with his Daddy as he grows up.

He also enjoys music! Melissa lets him play on her keyboard at home, and his little fingers look so sweet as he plays. He seems to know how to put just the right amount of pressure on the ivories to make those wonderful sounds! Ethan also likes strumming his Daddy's guitar and waving his arms to direct music.

______________________________

Our Jason Cody is six and a half months old and a bundle of energy! What a charmer this little guy is. He meets no strangers, loves crowds and fits in well with adults and kids alike.

Honestly -- I've never known such an animated baby! The way he communicates with his eyes, smile, hands and his whole body is just precious. As you can see, he doesn't mind wearing hats -- in fact, he seems to enjoy them!

In the first photo, he's modeling one at The Disney store and is held by his other Nana in Virginia. In the second photo, he's greeting Grandad John Medaris after a big realtor's convention. With so much exposure to people and large gatherings, he doesn't seem upset when his routine is interrupted.

We've only seen this precious boy twice since his birth -- once at 3 weeks and another time at 3 months. We can hardly wait to see him again Memorial Day weekend! If this pattern continues -- seeing him every 3 months, I suppose we can survive being 600 miles apart.

What a pleasure it is to have two little boys in our family again. It's been a long time since our sons were babes in arms. We love cuddling them, talking to them on the phone and sending them packages. We also look forward to the day when Ethan and Jason Cody are old enough to spend some time with their Papaw and Nana on the farm. ;-)

We'll pull out the little wooden train that Phillip made for our Jason when he was 2 years old. That, and a set of train tracks to run them on. Oh, and no batteries needed -- this train is the hand-made kind that needs a little imagination and hands-on guidance to go 'round the track.

Nana will enjoy baking cookies for her boys and will let them help mix cookie dough and cut out special shapes with the same cookie cutters our children used way back when. I even have the same little mugs our children used for milk and cookies.

I'm sure Papaw will take them for rides around the pasture in the same wagon pulled by the same Massey Ferguson tractor we've used for 30+ years. They'll probably climb in the hayloft and swing on ropes like our boys did. Oh yes, there are still lots of fish in our pond that need to be snagged, and these two may be just the fishermen to do it.

What fun it's been to fall in love with Jason Cody and Ethan over and over. What fun we have listening to their baby babble on the phone and anticipating being with them. We look forward to watching them grow up and knowing, once again, the joys of having little boys in the house!

My in-house specialist

2010-02-02T11:27:00.000-08:00

Meet Kevin, our second son and the third born of three children. He's the IT specialist (information technology) in our family and knows computers like the back of his hand. I'm amazed to watch his fingers fly over the keyboard and sniff out the problems I'm having with my desktop computer.

He knows how to get in the 'back door' of any computer and can figure out how to correct the problem, usually within moments. Kev's ability to read scrambled codes, binary files and everything else related to internet and PC's is beyond me! How does he do it?

I think it's an inborn gift. As a very young toddler he was examining the innards of just about everything he played with. His mind just works that way -- asking questions, figuring out the answering, studying the detailed insides of things that are normally closed up and screwed shut for the rest of us. Kevin was never satisfied with the partial picture but wanted the "whole full of it" as he would say when he was five.

We also noticed, when he was around 9 or 10 years of age, that he read a LOT of manuals and reference books. Encyclopedias were fascinating to him, and he would sit and read for an hour or so if not interrupted. I loved having him say, "Mom! Did you know ...." and then share what he'd learned. When other friends were struggling to play a new computer game, our by-the-book son sat on the sidelines devouring the manual that came with it.

We didn't always see these tendencies as a blessing or gift. No, at times they could be quite frustrating. Like when he was called to the supper table (more than once) and would scurry in with a book in hand. We had a no-reading-at-the table rule, and that was painful for him. So he'd find a bookmark and close it with a big sigh.

The bookmarks he used told quite a story, too. I once found a sock tucked between pages. Thankfully, it was a clean one! Another time, I found a spoon inside his book. He would also used a fork or knife if necessary (go figure). Oh, and LEGO blocks made handy bookmarks ... or money or whatever else was handy at the moment. I did give him bookmarks, but they were close by when he needed them. :-/

You've heard of the absent-minded professor, I'm sure. At times I thought he'd moved in with us! When everyone else was ready to go out the door, Kevin could sometimes be found in his room with one sock on, no shoes, engrossed in a manual or encyclopedia. If we called him while he was at the computer, it took a bit for the glassy-eyed-look to fade out, then he'd say "Huh?'

At other times, his in-house experiments could get him in big trouble in a hurry. Think water + electricity. On more than one occasion. We were never bored raising this child. ;-/

In looking back, I remember a woman telling me, when Kevin was 6 months old, something almost prophetic. Fifi was a lovely lady from Venezuela with all the charm and accent to match.
She was cuddling him on her lap and suddenly said,

"He will be what you call ... intelligent?" I raised one eyebrow and she pointed to his forehead and vowed, "Yes ... high forehead means plenty of space for brain to develop."

Kevin is a man now at 24, and I have to look up to him in more ways than one. Our other two children are married and live far from home, so it's nice to have Kevin here closer. I love going by his workplace to say hello now and then. If he's busy (and he usually is), I just take a seat and quietly observe my handsome son in action.

He's much more comfortable relating to people now than when he was younger. Back then, he preferred interacting with machinery. I watch him now, conversing with a customer who is picking up the computer that was repaired in the store. The interchange is a pleasant one, and the man commends Kevin for being so helpful.

I am proud of my son. Not just because he can fix my computer when it messes up, but because he is a gift from the Lord and has become a fine young man. He's got a good head on his shoulders and knows how to relate well to others. He's also got a tender heart, meaning he is touched by the less fortunate and is willing to help those who struggle. He also has a firm chin, meaning he stands up for those who are wronged and isn't afraid to speak his mind on issues.

Oh yes, and he still opens doors for me and any other females that happen by ... if they will let him. He also knows how to show respect for his elders. I attribute that to his Daddy, who was taught by HIS Dad how to respect women and senior citizens. I also give my hubby credit for training our sons to stick with a job until it is finished, to be honest, to show up on time and to call if you can't make an appointment.

These traits serve him well as an IT specialist who goes into people's homes. What a joy to hear him tell me about "the coolest couple" he met during an in-home product installation awhile back. I learned they were probably in their late 70's or early 80's and they hit it off right away. The man commended him for being on time, for doing a good job and for having a nice appearance. (Kevin told him that was company policy.)

When he is working, food and drink is not part of the mix for a couple reasons. First, he doesn't want to risk any spills and also, when offered a snack aside, he'll say, "Thanks, but I'd rather stick with this until I get it completed. I appreciate it though." (Again, so much like his Dad.)

As he was leaving the couple's house, the woman handed him a plate of brownies. Kevin was surprised and touched -- and later told her they were some of the best he'd ever had. Bless that woman. She did something that really touched my son's heart, and in doing so, she touched mine.

I hope you'll forgive a sentimental Momma rambling on about her son. I'm thankful for each of our three children and may share about the other two in the near future. Today, I had my in-house specialist in mind and wanted you to meet him!

My sister, my friend

2010-01-29T08:13:00.000-08:00

I have four sisters - all born before me ...

and today's blog is dedicated to one of them. That's her above, hugging one of our other sisters recently when we all said goodbye. Because it's her birthday, I want to reminisce a little and share some things I remember about growing up with Brenda...

Sis, you've always had a giving, gentle heart. You've always been willing to listen to anyone who needed to open up their heart and pour out their deepest thoughts and feelings. You made it easy for them, because you sat quietly and listened. I think that's why our family and friends back then lovingly referred to you as a "young Ann Landers." Fellow students, siblings and even casual acquaintances were drawn to your sweet spirit.

I came along seven years later than you did, sis, and to me you were quite "grown up." I loved watching my sisters get ready to go places -- school, church, anywhere. A touch of makeup, a bit of cologne, lots of hairspray (!) and the finished result was great. Other folks often said you looked like one of the Lennon Sisters. You also had a good singing voice and still do. It's a rich alto I love to hear.

Remember how we gals sang around the piano at home?

We also sang at church on occasion and loved singing in the car on those long trips in the old Pontiac. Wasn't it amazing how well we sisters harmonized? I've heard family members are better able to harmonize, and in our case that was true.

I guess we knew one another well enough, too, that we could almost predict when the other would take off in a direction and we'd fill in what was needed. All these years later, we can still take up where we left off in that way, it seems.

There are other memories of our growing up years -- I remember the shoulder-length "flip" in your hair and how it bounced when you walked. Back then, Breck shampoo was a big deal, and so was the dab of Suave cream Mom taught us to use for de-tangling. I always thought your hair was so pretty, and you kept it in up-to-date styles.

I can also remember some of the outfits you wore -- soft sweaters and pleated skirts, A-lines and straight skirts as they came in vogue. There are a couple shirt-waist dresses I recall, too.

When family photos were taken, you are the only one who really looked comfortable in front of the camera. :-) Just like a model, you'd stand with a hand on one hip, one foot pointed toward the camera, a certain tilt to your head and that beautiful, mega-watt smile.

Another memory - my earliest of you - is the way you'd comfort me at night when I was afraid. My overactive imagination got me in trouble sometimes (or a scary show on the neighbor's TV), I tended to dream a lot. Sometimes those dreams were full-blown nightmares and I was horrified of being kidnapped or worse.

I would be shaking in my p.j.'s and scared to move out from under the covers ... but so desperate for someone to comfort me.

That's when I'd dash around the corner to your room and climb in bed beside you. I don't ever remember being rejected; in fact, you cuddled and comforted me. That was probably a huge interruption to your sleep on school nights -- but you were always there for me. Thanks, Bren, for being my bad-dream chaser!

Today I still count you as one of my very best friends in the world. Since we live about 5 hours apart, it's hard to find time together. Aren't you glad for telephones, cell phones, emails and Facebook! On those occasions we do get to be together ...

... it's as if we've slipped back into a conversation we started months ago.

Sometimes we even finish each other's sentences or have the very same thoughts about a situation. Still so very much alike, aren't we?

When we're together, the clock seems to be daring us to waste just one minute, but we don't. During the day we'll laugh and talk and work together on meals or take a walk or run to the store to do some quick shopping.

At night, when the rest of the household winds down, we sit up waaay too late (!) sharing our hopes and dreams and catching up on the latest events in our lives. That's because we know our time is short and it's going to be a long time before we get this opportunity again.

I am so thankful to have you as a sister, Brenda, and I still feel free to open my heart to you. So many times over the past 20 years or so, you've picked up part of my burden and shared the load. In that way, you haven't changed at all; you are still the Ann Landers in our family circle -- only a much better version, in my opinon.

Remember, as children, how our big family would kneel to pray by the old couch each night? We don't get down on our knees now, because the knees aren't so young anymore, but we still hold hands during prayer before slipping off to our own beds.

I love you bunches and want to tell you how precious you are to me, Bren. I am so thankful God placed you in my family so I could get to know you in a special sister-kind-of-way. Here's hoping the year ahead is one of your best yet!

Happy birthday to my sweet sis.
P.S. To me, you get more beautiful (inside and out) as the years go by.

Three kids, three calls

2010-01-20T08:24:00.001-08:00

Our three children were very close as they grew up. Not only in age (I had three within five and a half years) but the are also close in heart.

How did that closeness come about?

If you listen long enough, you realize our society pretty much believes kids are going to choose their best friends outside the family circle. As for their relationships with siblings, they're supposed to roll their eyes, argue a lot and get on one another's nerves, right?

I think parental expectations play a huge part in what really happens at home. Not that we were perfect parents (our kids can vouch for that!) but we did try to encourage and expect our kids to be pals - and we tried to guide them in that direction.

As a family, we tried to plan fun activities that pulled everyone together.

When you're playing Checkers by the fire or sledding down hills in your backyard, you're bonding. When you travel together, visit museums as a family and hang out ocean-side together, you get to share some pretty cool experiences. Later, you revisit them in your mind and talk about them together. Having things in common helps develop close friendships.

I think being partners in the home school experience also helped our three kids develop close relationships. They had the same teacher, the same classroom, the same daily schedules and vacation days. (The photo above was at the Gulf of Mexico where the children and Phillip threw bread crumbs to the seagulls).

Back in the class room at home, they worked together on the same subjects at the same time, though each child approached the topic on a different level. When we studied astronomy in science class, for instance, our three children each took on different assignments.

Jason, at 10 years of age, made a time-line of index cards. On each card, he wrote the name of a famous astronomer (Copernicus, Galileo, Kepler, etc.) and included their birth and death dates. A couple lines down, he wrote a brief synopsis of their most important contributions to astronomy.

Melissa was our detail-oriented, creative student. She enjoyed drawing charts, writing longer reports and illustrating the folders she filed them in. She also helped design and hang mobiles from the light fixtures.

Kevin, at 7 years of age, loved looking at picture books about astronomy. He was also an encyclopedia kind of guy and loved studying rockets and space ships. Later, he would draw his own models or build them out of Lego bricks.

Their studies would come to mind when we had the privilege of touring the Smithsonian Institute during their teen years. Closer to home, we visited the Huntsville Space and Rocket Center and Marshall Space Flight Center here in Alabama. What a joy to see our children enjoy those experiences while learning and working together as a team. Oh, they had their moments of disagreement, but the majority of the time, they were pals.

All too soon, they grew and went their own ways, one at a time...

Melissa went to Blue Mountain College in Mississippi for four years and majored in music with a minor in business. She then went to Southern in Louisville, Kentucky to get her Master of Music degree. During those years of college, she often connected with her brothers via phone or letters.

Jason graduated high school and enrolled at Patrick Henry College in Virginia that fall. He later spent 4 years as a security guard stateside with the US Marine Corp and was called back for a special 8 month stint in Iraq. We sent lots of mail while he was in the USMC and he and his siblings stayed in touch as often as possible. Presently, he is finishing his college degree in Virginia via online studies.

Kevin went straight out of high school to boot camp and on to radio school at Twenty Nine Palms, CA. He served with the Marines while stationed at Kaneohe Bay in Hawaii and spent a few weeks or a month on maneuvers in South Korea. Letters from Mom and Melissa kept him up on the news. It was extremely difficult to get him and Jason together during their military years. (Their leave times intersected only once, I think.)

So many times, through the past few years, our children have all three called home on the same day. It happens that way so much of the time, I am amazed. Phillip and I will go days without hearing from any of them, and then ... three kids and three calls occur within hours (and sometimes minutes) of one another.

Of course there have been times they plan it that way -- on our birthdays or holidays when they are away from home -- but on the ordinary days when they haven't talked with one another ahead of time?

How does that happen?

I don't know, but I do know I love it! Phillip and I will often talk about how we miss their voices and sometimes we laugh about their childhood antics, the funny things they said and just enjoy reminiscing about the good ol' days. We do call them now and then, but not so often that we become pesky parents ...

There's a balance there, I think. Love them, let them go when they're grown, and let them know you are still there for them. Write them letters, send cards now and then and leave messages on their cell phones. Then sit back and wait a bit.

They do have their lives now and adult responsibilities, which we want them to fulfill to the best of their abilities. So we wait. We figure sooner or later, they'll miss our voices or have a question to ask or just want to connect. And when that happens, we are grateful.

We've given them their wings and encouraged them to fly...

... and they did, each in their turn. Now we want them to keep flying, soaring, building those wing muscles that will carry them through life. We try to stand back and admire their individual flights without distracting them. We also want them to fly close to their mates and keep their own nests in good repair.

Ahhhhh, but when three kids call home on the same day? That's a bit like being up in the clouds myself on a grand and glorious day! Three kids and three calls - it's a simple formula, but it sure makes for one happy Momma!

Take a closer look ...

2010-01-12T20:59:00.000-08:00

Do you know these little girls?

A few weeks back, hubby and I were browsing an antique mall when I came upon a basket of photos marked "Half price sale - 50 cents."

While many of the snapshots were sepia toned, the majority were black and white. I couldn't help being transported back to the good ol' days while sorting through that pile.

This particular photo was taken in 1960 of sisters Lindsey (two-and-a-half years old) and Gail (two-and-a-half months). On the back of the photo is an address: 24 Grampian Way, Sandon Park, Luton Beds, England.

My attempt to look up this address on the internet was not too helpful. While there are various listings for Grampian and Sandon Park, the closest I came to finding "Luton Beds" was a Luton, Bedfordshire. Perhaps it is sometimes abbreviated.

I can't help wondering who lost this photo or entrusted it to someone else who eventually lost it. Perhaps it was lovingly placed in an album but slipped out and was picked up with old newspapers to be tossed out.

How, I wonder, did these little girls end up here in Alabama?

It's also possible the photo of these girls was passed along to a second or third generation family member when a parent or grandparent died. Not knowing the girls personally, the recipient may not have seen any reason to keep the photo. Feeling badly about the thought of just tossing it out, they donated it to charity with other goods when the estate was settled. At least it's a theory!

We will probably never know the journey of this photo before it landed in that basket on a shelf in our local antique mall. I just couldn't let these precious little gals lie there indefinitely, could I? How many other shoppers saw the photo and smiled? How many voices whispered, "Awww ... how sweet!"

Something about their expressions captured my heart.

While there's not a lot we can tell from just one photo, we can surmise a few things. Look at Lindsey's bright eyes and sweet little dimpled grin. She is proud of the new baby her parents brought home. Her touch is gentle, she holds the baby "just so" and seems to enjoy playing the part of big sister.

And baby Gail? She's relaxed in her big sister's arms and seems to be listening to the person next to the photographer. I'm guessing it is own her mother cooing and calling out to her so she will look up as the camera clicks.

Note her little hand, which is open and relaxed. This is one way of telling she's not hungry or sleepy or upset. No worries for little Gail -- she is perfectly content and at ease. Did you notice both girls are nicely dressed and well-groomed? Behind them, a pretty lace doily rests on the sofa back.

All of these hints point to one thing for me -- Lindsey and Gail were in a nice home where they were secure in their parents' love. There is no dread or fear in their eyes ... only delight. And because they were cherished and happy, I am happy, too.

Not every child comes into a loving home, nor do they have reason to relax and feel secure. Some parents abuse and/or neglect their little ones. Others have no time for storybooks or quality time, which builds a child's self-confidence and gives them that "I know I'm loved" look. Oh that we could rescue all the little ones who are hungry for food and affection!

Oh, that every child could be raised in a loving, happy home!

If I've figured right, the eldest child (Lindsey) would now be perhaps 52 years old and the baby (Gail) would be about 50. I wonder where they are today, and if they get to see one another often. Are they both still living? Do they live in England or America? Did they somehow settle right here in Alabama?

When I first saw this photo, it touched my heart. Perhaps Lindsey and Gail wanted me to see this photo and interpret their story for them. I hope I got it right.

Go Bama!

2010-01-07T13:11:00.000-08:00

Tonight is the night -- the BIG bowl game between Alabama and Texas, two top-ranked teams. It's been hyped for a long time, so fans all around the world will be rooting for their chosen team.

Me? I will probably watch the action awhile. It's not that I'm a kill-joy ... I just don't know how to follow it all. One thing I do understand is this: The object of the game is to run the ball to your end zone and make a touchdown -- lots of them! And to kick the ball between the goal posts for that all-important extra point. This is called a field goal.

Are you impressed yet? I am amazed I've remember this much! Oh yeah, I do remember that the one who runs with the ball is supposed to avoid the big guys who want to knock him down to the ground. Beyond that, I'm basically ignorant.

As many times as my husband has tried to explain it to me, I still don't get the "first down, fourth down, etc." Neither do I understand why -- when I've finally figured out which team is which and where their end zone is -- they insist on switching places at half time to confuse me.

I certainly don't grasp the concept of guys running and jumping up to bump chests so hard they fall backwards. Of the tradition of "piling on" when someone is down. Once he's held down by a guy the size of a Sherman-tank, why do other players keep jumping on the pile? One of these days, they're all going to stand up (except the guy on the bottom), and look down in horror to discover they squished the one on the bottom flatter than a pancake.

We've also gone over the player positions many times, but for the life of me, I can't remember what a tight-end or a fullback is supposed to be. Sounds too much like personal descriptions of different body parts to me! Ah, well ... I just watch and listen and try to learn, but it's looking pretty hopeless.

So ... I'm counting on Jason Cody to help his Nana sort all this out. After all, he's started out learning football, so he'll have the advantage. He watches the games with his Daddy and seems to be just as "into" it as the big guys. I do know he can stick with it far longer than I can! In the photo here, he's as intent on the game as he is on his thumb... and that's saying a lot.

So tune in your TV at 7 p.m. tonight, even though the game doesn't actually start then. There will be lots of pre-game hype and a lot of talk about Coach Nick Saban and the way he's shaped the Alabama team.

I'm sure our first Heisman trophy winner, Mark Ingram, will also be discussed a lot, but that's okay - he's made history and we're proud of his game, his attitude and his humility.

Back to Jason Cody. We bought this "Lil' Bama" cap for him and the Bama "hoodie." I can only imagine what it's like in their part of Virginia tonight. The BIG GAME is just hours away!

Instead of nursery songs, my grandson will be hearing the Alabama Fight Song, which is his Daddy's ring-tone. I figure he and his Daddy have on their "team shirts" and are geared up for an evening of football. Me, too. Sorta. ROLL, TIDE!!

When I grow up ...

2009-12-29T11:43:00.000-08:00

Photo from dreamstime.com

Lots of people ask children what they want to be when they grow up.

When I was asked that question, I had a few answers in mind, and they pretty much stayed with me through my life. I wanted to be a Mommy (check), I wanted to be a teacher (check), and I wanted to be nurse (check). So I guess I've grown up now ...

You didn't know I was a nurse? Oh yes, I've been a practicing nurse since I became a mommy -- all those boo-boos to bandage, sore throats to soothe, fevers to fight and tummy aches to tame. I also handled croup on more than one occasion -- and once with all three children gasping for breath. That was a terrifying time! One child sick with croup is tough, two is tougher and three can send you into panic mode.

Like a licensed nurse, I was checking temperatures, giving sips of water, wiping away tears and trying to stay calm. There was no time for a break on my nursing shift, nor did I want to leave my patients. Along with the handsome intern (my hubby), I took turns rocking, walking, talking and trying to soothe the fears of children who didn't understand why they couldn't get their breath.

More than once we bundled them up and headed for the emergency room only to have them calm when we got there. One doctor finally told us that was par for the course with croup. He explained that getting out in the colder night air actually shrinks the swelling around the affected area and allows a normal breathing pattern to resume. That same doctor suggested an unusual remedy for the next attack: "Bundle them up in a blanket and carry them outdoors to look at the stars."

It worked, too. The night air worked its magic while they were busy listening to Daddy count stars! Of course when there are three coughing and gasping, it's a bit hard to do it with all of them at the same time. So we took turns, thankful for a doctor that shared the secret to croupy nights. He had seen many scared parents rush into the ER with children that had moments earlier been "choking to death." By the time they got there, the little ones had relaxed and were quite calm -- and sometimes asleep.

So I've been a Mommy, a teacher (homeschooling our three children over an 18 year period -- and loved it!) and I've been their nurse. Now that the children are grown and gone, I am now helping care for (nurse) our aging parents. My father-in-law has several health issues, so I take him to the doctor and help him with his breathing treatments on a daily basis. I also help my mother with some health-related issues and am her transport when she goes to the doctor.

What a blessing to have those when-I-grow-up dreams come true! Looking back, I see how our loving Heavenly Father placed people and events in my life that prepared me for each of those dreams.

As a child, I had Mom to set the example

of what motherhood was all about. She was creative in the kitchen, a hard worker around our house and she enjoyed singing while she mopped floors or did laundry. Even with a bad case of phlebitis in one leg, I never heard her complain and later learned why she would prop that leg on a low stool while doing some of her work.

Mom loved us, fed us, made our clothes and kept them clean. She also nursed us through many illnesses and taught us to be respectful children. I thank her for that and realize what she taught me carried over into my own mothering days.

As for teaching, I'd say a half-dozen great teachers in my school days had a lot to do with my wish to follow in their footsteps. One of my sisters also became a teacher and I got to sit in on her classes now and then to observe.

I loved the way she related to the children,

making things come to life for them and maintaining a calm control of her classroom. When our children came along and we made the decision to homeschool, she was one of our best cheerleaders. Brenda also shared her experience, encouragement, resources and more.

What about nursing and how my interest was tweaked? While in college, I worked as secretary to three radiologists at the hospital and later to four pediatricians at a children's clinic.

The medical field intrigued me

and tweaked my interest in nursing, though I never pursued a formal degree. I've also known many good nurses that set a great example and treated me with kindness and compassion when I was a patient.

The way we do our jobs and carry out our responsibilities affects those around us! How thankful I am for a good mother to teach me the joys of motherhood ... for good teachers that set the example for me as a child. Before homeschooling our children, I taught many children in various settings. As a teen babysitter, I found myself "teaching" my little charges about colors, numbers, reading, etc. There were other opportunities to teach, too -- Sunday School, Vacation Bible School, nursery school and special classes on birdwatching, etc.

Before I close off, let me share one more thing I wanted to be when I grew up ... a grandma. Of course I didn't think that far ahead as a child, but when our three children flew the nest, my heart longed to have little ones around me again. So I wanted to be a grandma.

That dream came true for me in 2009! Ethan was born on March 25th and Jason Cody was born on October 5th. We have so enjoyed getting to know those little fellows the past few months and look forward to seeing Jason Cody in a few days when we drive up to welcome in the New Year at their place.

I suppose I've grown up by now and would be considered a full-fledged adult. Words like "mature" and "laugh lines" and "middle-age-spread" come to mind when I look in the mirror. But there's a little girl still inside that sticks her tongue out now and then to remind me to never get too grown up.

She wants to stay young at heart and keep on dreaming of other things she'd like to be when she grows up ...

Miles apart and smiles from the heart

2009-12-19T08:06:00.000-08:00

photo by simon howden at freedigitalphotos.com

This will be a most unusual holiday
for us, and I'm trying my best not to be down-in-the-mouth about it. We knew our two older children and their spouses and babies wouldn't make it -- but the closer the time draws near, the harder it is.

I'm not resenting the time they will have with their other families -- not at all - but we will miss them nonetheless. Perhaps the hardest thing this year is that my hubby will be working both Christmas Day and the day after. When I sigh about that, he grins, "Most people still need to use water on holidays..." and he's right, of course.

As the plant operator, he is responsible to keep enough water treated and available for the many customers on the Hawk Pride Mountain Water system, and he takes his job seriously. I admire him for that, because he's a man of commitment and faithfulness. He wouldn't slack on his duty. It's just that Christmas is a family day, and it won't be the same with him there and me here.

I suppose I could go to work with him and putter around the office. I'd even daydreamed of taking a nice meal down there and spending the afternoon watching an old movie (on the flat screen TV the plant provides for the guys)... but I have other people to consider.

I'm the only family my dear Mom has, and she's coming over for the day. Also, our son Kevin is off work and lives fairly close by, so he will be with us part of that time. I want to make it a special day here with the three of us -- or four of us, if my sister Brenda gets to come for a visit.

A small family gathering, to be sure, but precious members nonetheless. Phillip will be home that evening if all goes well on the water system. This means no major leaks or pump problems at the treatment facility. I don't want to consider that possibility (though it has happened on other holidays!), because I could really get down-in-the-mouth.

At my age, a frown can do major damage to your face.

You know what I mean ... once you do stop frowning, those little wrinkles hang around long enough to cement into little crevices around your mouth. If I'm going to have those crinkles and wrinkles, I want them to come from smiling -- not frowning!

Back when I was a child, I remember hearing someone say, "If you frown too long, your frown will get stuck." Maybe that's why I practiced smiling a lot. I would slip into my parents' room and sit in front of the big round mirror on their dresser. Leaning forward, I'd cock my head and grin, or frown first and then smile real big to see if my frown was stuck.

Oh, how I loved admiring my little self in that mirror as a four year old! I knew how to pose, too, because I had four big sisters to observe 24/7. So there I'd sit, turning my head this way and that, patting my hair and practicing the biggest smile I could muster.

It paid off, too! The day a new store opened at our little shopping center on Broadway, there were games, contests and freebies. To my delight, one of the contests was called the 'Biggest Smile' contest, and yours truly was confident she could win it!

The judge lined us up - probably a dozen children - and told us to give our biggest smile. I'm quite sure he'd never seen so many teeth at once as he did when he stopped in front of me.

I was smiling so big it hurt -- but I won the prize! A giant lollipop was mine to savor for the next few hours.

So, while I am bit sad about a low-key Christmas this year, I'm smiling outside to give myself a temporary "face lift." I have much to be thankful for, and I will focus on that. We'll have a warm fire, a light lunch, and probably pull out a jigsaw puzzle to work. Mom enjoys that and I do, too. When my hubby gets in, we'll have our special meal together.

So I can't complain! We are healthy, happy and have a roof over our heads and the love of family and friends. My siblings will call here Christmas Day -- another advantage of having Mom at my place -- and I'll get to connect with them even though we are many miles apart.

Our two older children will no doubt call home to say hello to those at our table and share with us about their visits with in-laws. If they put our grandsons on the phone (and I'm counting on that), their goos and coos will give this Nana something else to smile about!

When I focus on all these blessings, how can I possibly be down-in-the-mouth? I'm smiling as I finish this post, and I can just feel those little down-in-the-mouth wrinkles easing up and disappearing as I do.

Anybody wanna challenge me to another big-smile contest? Nah, I didn't think so ...

Don't forget your coat and hat!

2009-12-10T06:30:00.000-08:00

As long as time has faithfully tick-tocked on the universal clock, mothers around the world have had one thing in common. Their children have tried darting out the door without coat and hat in the coldest of winter -- and they've had to call them back in.

I know my Mom did, and I know I did with our three children! I suppose the anticipation of playing in the snow or kicking through the leaves on a frosty morning overrides all thoughts of proper clothing. This came to mind yesterday while babysitting my friend's 3-year-old granddaughter.

Mary came to spend a few hours with me and visit a pup that has taken up residence at our place. (That's another story for another blog.) It was bitterly cold out, but she desperately wanted to befriend the lil' guy... so we went outside a bit to run and play in the leftover leaves.

The pup was curious about our little visitor, but he gave her a wide berth. Probably because three-year-old children don't usually walk around. They dash and dart, squeal and holler, arms waving and legs flying. I suppose it scared him to death!

Back inside, we read books by the fire awhile. "Time for a Rhyme," a Rand McNally publication from 1966, was a favorite. The realistic children rendered by the artist were intriguing, and the enchantment of rhyming words relaxed Mary. Her long lashes began to droop.

I was feeling quite proud of myself at that point. If she got a nap, Mary's mommy and grandparents would have a lovely evening with a well-rested child. But I'd forgotten what her grandmother told me usually happens when she gets sleepy. To keep from dozing off and taking that dreaded "nap," Mary relies on a sure-fire cure. Activity!

She suddenly jumped off the sofa and announced, "I want to see Sport again!" The child who was nearly out like a light was now out the door hollering for the dog. With no coat and no hat, her long blond curls were flying in the frigid wind. I called her back in to get bundled up properly, lest she get sick on my watch.

We had a good day together, and just before her Papa Joe came to pick her up, we scrolled through photos on my computer. She loved the pix of Jason Cody, our two-month-old grandson, modeling hats at the mall for his Mommy and Nana Linda.

Here in Alabama, we often get by with a light jacket in winter and sometimes none at all. But little boys (and girls) in Virginia need coats and hats in winter! In fact, Jason Cody saw his first snow this past week -- five inches! A friend teased, "Oh! He can make baby snow angels!"

To tie this story together, here's my grandson, parental paparazzi in tow to capture the moment. Which hat do you think they chose? I've given each a caption.

Nah, too many snaps and flaps.

Dad's right -- I am one handsome dude!

You've gotta be kidding me.

Oh, yeah ... this one has "ME" written all over it!

I'm glad they're keeping that sweet little head warm. He's loved, he's happy and he's a joy to us all. I'm sure there will be times -- in the future -- he tries to dash outdoors without a coat and hat, just like his Daddy did here at home.

I'm also sure his Mommy will call him back with a phrase that's stood the test of time in every century and every language. "Don't forget your coat and hat!"

Winter's muse ...

2009-12-02T21:51:00.000-08:00

Here in the south, we're excited to hear the word "snow" being batted around in the forecast. Okay, maybe not everyone is excited, but I certainly am!

Having grown up in Illinois where cold weather arrived in October and camped out until April, winter in the south has been quite an adjustment for me.

In our corner of Alabama, snow is a rarity -- in fact, extremely rare! The last time we got enough snow to cover the ground and pile up 2-3 inches high was oh, about five or six years ago. Now, I understand 2-3 inches may not be "piling up" to your thinking, but it is in this area.

I miss having snow! It brings with it a pristine beauty that blankets the neighborhood in silence. Fallen and frozen in place, it transforms eye-sores overnight. Even an old auto junkyard becomes a fascinating work of architectural wonder when snow-kissed.

With or without snow, winter becomes a welcome writer's muse for me. Looking out my window on the bare branches and frosted ground, I contemplate our blessings. We have a warm home and enough food to eat. We have family and friends that love us. My plush pullover keeps the chill away, and a fire on the hearth sets the mood. For a moment, I am back in the neighborhood of my childhood ...

When snow fell on Oakwood Avenue, our neighborhood was transformed into a winter wonderland. I loved waking up to fresh snow, but when school was in session, it was particularly difficult to dash to the car instead of to the back porch to grab a sled.

Slumping in the backseat, I'd be unhappy with the ugly tracks our tires made in the new-fallen snow. Gazing out the back window as we pulled away from home, I'd sigh and resign myself to sitting inside a stuffy classroom on a perfect winter day. By the time we got back home again, the lovely snow would be crisscrossed and slushy from dozens of tires.

But not the woods! They were all ours when we returned, and they would still be untouched. Bundling up, we neighbor kids would meet up and head into our own magical kingdom. What made it especially wondrous was the fact we weren't ever allowed in those woods at any other time of the year...

That's when the threat of poison ivy, briars, ticks, mosquitoes, spiders and the occasional snake caused our moms to throw down the gauntlet. Hands on hips and eyebrows raised, their faces were set and their words sufficed. "No going into the woods!" I think some of us were secretly afraid there were monsters lurking down there in the shadows, so we gladly obeyed.

But winter snow -- with all its purity -- meant that spiders, snakes and all things sinister couldn't co-exist with its loveliness! So we donned our snowsuits and boots. Freed from parental regulations and our own fears, we dashed, trampled, twirled, climbed and eventually lumbered along-- in heavy boots with frozen toes -- through the mile or so of woods that backed up to neighboring yards.

In the hour or so of daylight left to us, we sang, hollered, teased and laughed, our voices ringing out in the stillness. We designed forts, threw snowballs, explored uncharted territory and reveled in our personal winter resort. Towering, bare branches, frosted with ice crystals, provided a canopy that completed our winter castle.

Around here in Alabama, our own three children delighted in the infrequent snows we've had. One year we actually had six inches piled up! A bit better description of snow piling up, eh? Another year, an ice storm shut down everyone's electricity for days.

Thankful for a wood stove, we stayed warm and cooked enough stew on it to keep our bellies filled. We also fried eggs in a black iron skillet and tried our hand at "fried" cookies, which turned out quite tasty! During that power outage, we read Laura Ingalls Wilder's books by kerosene lamplight and considered our plight an adventure.

By day, all that ice came in handy for skating and sliding across the pond. In the evenings, when the kids brought the cows up to the barn, they would approach the frozen pond in fearful confusion. Once a couple of them stepped on the edge, a great rush of water popped through the hole they'd made, and others would crowd around to join them for a drink.

Ahhh ... winter's muse ... It reminds me to reminisce, to write and to rejoice in the simplicity of fresh-fallen snow. I hope we see some in Alabama this year. Just give me an inch or two for a couple days, and I'll be glad to go back in memory to Oakwood Avenue once again!

Pumpkin Pie Memories!

2009-11-16T11:29:00.001-08:00

Thanksgiving and pumpkin pies just go together, in my opinion!

I remember watching Momma make pumpkin pies for the holidays -- especially at Thanksgiving. While she prepared the homemade crusts, I'd sit on a stool near the counter and watch. Her hands would work the dough as the rolling pin flew back and forth across it. Then she'd flip it and do it again.

When the crust was big enough 'round to cover the inside of the pan and come up over the sides, Momma gently laid it inside -- almost like putting a baby to bed. Then, with one hand, she'd twirl the pan slowly while with the other, a sharp knife would slice off the extra dough hanging over the edges. Last, but not least, she'd "crimp" the edges to make pretty patterns like those pictured below.

The scraps that fell from her knife were all mine -- and I knew just what to do with them! When my enthusiasm with the rolling pin threatened to tear the tender dough, Momma would remind me to handle it ever-so-gently. It took more than a few tries, but after I rolled it out just-so, I'd slather butter on it and sprinkle a cinnamon-sugar mix on top of the entire piece.

We would then cut it in 1-inch-wide strips and place it on a cookie sheet for baking. I could hardly wait for it to come out of the oven! Those baked cinnamon strips were a melt-in-your-mouth home made experience ... but one that had to be shared with all my siblings.

Momma's pies were always made with just the right mixture of Libby's canned pumpkin, eggs, milk, butter and sugar, along with the perfect balance of nutmeg, cinnamon and all spice. Our electric mixer would whip it to a lovely height while the smell of spices tickled my nose.

After the filling was in those lovely crusts, Momma would decorate them with a cookie-cutter pumpkin shape made of scraps of dough she'd reserved for that purpose. Then, with all the love and care of a domestic goddess, she'd slide her pies into the oven.

Once that happened, we children were reminded not to run or jump in the kitchen. Pies in the makin' must not be shaken! The whole house smelled like Thanksgiving on those days, and I could hardly wait until it was time for our special holiday meal. Momma's pies were the crowning touch after a chicken and dressing meal complete with all the trimmings: Mashed potatoes, homemade gravy (always made with giblets), homemade yeast rolls, corn, beans and of course, the cranberry sauce.

When our children were growing up, we carried on the same pie-baking day traditions. Just like me, they enjoyed rolling out scraps of dough to sprinkle with cinnamon and sugar. Once in the oven, they watched through the glass door or sometimes called from another room of the house, "Are they done yet?"

While I finished preparing the pies, they would decide on a special shape for the decorations on top. I've collected a lot of cookie cutters over the years, and during the holidays, the kids enjoyed dumping them all out on the table to sort and admire. We made lots of tea-cake cookies of various shapes and sizes with those cookie cutters, but when Thanksgiving pies were baked, the children chose a thematic topper -- a pilgrim, turkey, pumpkin or leaf shape.

This year, our daughter, son-in-law and grandson Ethan are coming home for Thanksgiving. Our son Kevin will be here for dinner that day, too, along with one of my four sisters AND my Momma. I'm planning to make pumpkin pies again, just like she used to make.

She's altered her recipe through the years, but I don't think you can improve on perfection. So I stick to the original ... the one I remember Momma making when I grew up. No matter how you cut it, you just can't beat a homemade pumpkin pie that's full of just the right combination of ingredients ... and pleasant memories to match.

Happy Thanksgiving to one and all!

Some down-home country decor ...

2009-11-09T21:38:00.000-08:00

Welcome! So glad you could stop by for a little tour of our place. This is where we raised our three children, where we made lots of happy memories and where hubby and I are now in our empty-nest years. We look forward to having our grandchildren come with their parents for visits! Hopefully, Ethan and Jason Cody will learn to love the place where their parents grew up.

This little pilgrim couple greets you when you enter our front screened porch. Hubby built the porch, which runs almost the length of our place, and put a basement storm shelter room under it. That's a very important thing here in the south where tornadoes are common.

I've had these little pilgrims for over 10 years, and they come out every autumn to keep us company from mid-October and on into the Thanksgiving holiday. They're still smiling right now, because the weather is lovely. When it turns colder and the winds start whipping, I may have to bring them indoors to warm their toes by the fire!

When you enter the front door, our fireplace is the first thing you notice. It brightens up our small living room and welcomes you on into the rest of the house. I love making the mantle a display of seasonal things. Here, you'll notice my autumn angel, a favorite pumpkin and a clock my parents had when I was a teen. It has a lovely tick-tock sound that soothes the heart and soul.

The floral in the middle was done by yours truly when I visited my sister in her home-decor store. She taught me how to make something pretty with leftover silk flowers and stems. I just kept piddling with it until -- voila! it came out like this.

On the other end is a photo of dogwood leaves I need to frame. It was entered in the county fair this year and is a colorful piece. In front of it is a cute little squirrel I've had about 12 years now. He comes out of hiding each fall, too, and is still nibbling on the same acorn!

Beside him is a favorite fabric frame that holds a picture of our three children when they were very young. In it, they are running across a grassy field toward a huge Indian mound. It speaks to me of youthful energy and happy memories.

The candle behind that is a cherry wood spool shape I found at a thrift store (it's one of a pair). I brought it home and polished them up, then adorned them with scraps of fabric ribbon. The little "welcome" blocks have been around for 20 years now! And the tall candle sticks behind the floral are a gift from our daughter-in-law.

Here's a quick peek at the kitchen and dining room wall above a long buffet. The decor for this area was settled when I found a cute little ceramic rooster 7 years ago and brought it home. I now have roosters everywhere -- on rugs, walls, counters, serving trays, dishes, etc.

If you could have seen this room before we redecorated in 2003! It was so dark and dreary looking and my former cabinets were hanging by their hinges (almost). What an improvement and blessing to have a pretty kitchen. It's not fancy, (and neither are we) but it's a place people can feel welcome to relax and pull up to the table. That's what matters.

Our kerosene lamp goes back 35 years -- a gift from a wedding shower. I like the globe with it's "Home Sweet Home motto. About 10 years into our marriage I broke one just like it and later found a supplier who made the exact globe. What a thrill to have it back to the original style.

This photo frame features my cute husband as a child with his parents. I treasure this photo and love the perky frame that makes it stand out as a special addition to the dining room. My mother-in-law was a very precious lady who died in 1991. We still miss her! At Thanksgiving I always make her sweet potato casserole and angel-flake biscuits. They are yummy and help us remember a very special Mom.

Before we go, I'll take you out back to show you two items I found at thrift stores. Hooter was lovingly made by hand with a patchwork overlap design. The chair is old -- very old -- and someone painted it green, then accidentally spilled some purple paint on it? Anyhow, I love old chairs with character and brought it home. (My hubby doesn't understand my need to rescue old chairs with a history...)

Hooter has been sitting in this chair the past eight years, faithfully guarding our sun porch. So why is he in the yard among the leaves? I thought he might like to get out for a bit of fresh air.

Okay, you're not buying that story, so I'll be honest -- the sun porch is a mess with dear hubby's "stuff" that will go in our future shop. Poor Hooter has been guarding the power saw, golf clubs, plumbing supplies and everything else you can imagine!

We're anxious to get started on that shop. Over the past several weeks, some concrete guys gave us the run-around and then the heavy rains came, delaying any hopes of pouring a pad. Finally -- we've found someone who is planning to start soon. I think when I look out and see that pad, I'll feel like there really will be a shop in our future!

Well, that's about it for now -- I had my camera out today and took photos of the autumn decor to share. Maybe others will come later, who knows? I hope this little peek in my window helps you know me a bit better. I'm just a country gal at heart!

Autumn on the farm

2009-11-07T08:15:00.001-08:00

I took my camera with me on a walk to the pasture yesterday, passing through the woods on the way. We're having our last week of beautiful colors here in NW Alabama, so I wanted to capture the leaves before they fade and fall to the ground.

You never know what you'll come across in the woods! The photo above is an unusual-shaped growth of branches and vines and always catches my eye. Yesterday when I passed by, the sun sifted through the canopy of trees overhead and kissed these golden leaves -- long enough to make them "pop" in the picture.

I also noticed a fallen tree covered with orange dots. From a distance, it looked like someone had used neon-orange spray paint to write on the tree, so I went closer to take a look. This is actually an unusual fungus -- a touch of vivid orange on a fallen tree in the middle of our woods. If I hadn't glanced that direction, I wouldn't have this photo. It's fun to find surprises in the quiet of our woods!

Taking that walk also stirred up a lot of good memories. You see, our children used to walk those same paths with me in the lovely days of autumn. The boys would dash hither and yon, picking up acorns to toss at one another while Melissa and I collected pretty leaves. All that fresh air and sunshine cleared the mind and strengthened the lungs. By the time we got back up to the house, we'd had a good workout.

It was in those same pastures my hubby would cut hay in the summer and have the boys help bring it back to the barn. When there's no grass growing in winter, cows still have to eat -- and they love farm-fresh hay. Hauling hay is hard work, but Phillip introduced the boys to it early on. When they were old enough to go with him to the field, they could be helpful in some way or other -- if nothing else, carrying the water jug to thirsty Daddy.

As they grew older, they learned to grab those heavy bales of hay and drag them to the truck. Later, as strapping teens, they were able to toss them up on the truck and stack them. In the photo above, a friend (on the left) helps Kevin (7) and Jason (10). They'd all been working hard and it shows! I always made it a point to feed them a man-sized meal after this kind of workout.

The children also went to the pastures in late fall and winter, rounding up the cows and heading them home for a healthy portion of hay at the barn. Normally, Jason or Kevin would slip around behind the cows who were furthest away and start working them back toward the upper pasture. If that failed, Melissa would locate the bossiest Mama cow and start her in the right direction. The others would inevitably follow along!

When they came through the gate near the pond, one of the kids would perch on the post and count heads. That could be a challenge at times, because the cows and calves were pushing and rushing toward the sweet-smelling hay. At times, the sound of their hooves on the cold ground was like an out-of-sync drumbeat. Cows usually don't get in a big hurry to do anything, but if they are frightened -- or, in this case, hungry -- they can certainly run. The little calves usually kicked their heels and pranced, which was quite cute!

After the cows were in the barn lot, I'd have have hot chocolate or a special treat waiting for my helpers, especially in winter. They would come to the back door, slapping ice off their gloves and stepping out of muddy boots before entering the sun room in their sock feet.

Now and then, I miss those days ... but we decided when all the kids left home, we didn't need to keep a herd any longer. We're thinking of repairing the fence around the barn lot so we can raise a few steers for beef. I can handle that part just fine -- befriending young calves and feeding them corn and sweet feed while they're at the barn. I'm just not nimble enough (or willing) to round up a whole herd of pig-headed cows in the pasture anymore!

Ahh, the crisp, colorful days of autumn. They stir up a lot of good memories for this Mom!

Pumpkins or Punkin's?

2009-11-05T20:41:00.000-08:00

Which is the correct pronunciation -- pumpkin or punkin? I suppose it all depends on what you're talking about -- and perhaps, where you're from. To me, pumpkin is the proper pronunciation for a perfectly plump growth on the end of a harvest vine... such as those shown in the photo above.

Punkin' -- on the other hand -- is a beloved nickname for my newest little grandson, Jason Cody. I suppose it started because there were pumpkin decorations around the home when I got there -- the pretty pumpkins on their front stoop (above), ceramic pumpkins on the kitchen table and a bronze-type wire pumpkin shape adorning the floor near the staircase.

I don't know why, it slipped out, but when I took Jason Cody from his Daddy's arms that first time, I cooed, "How's my sweet lil' Punkin' doing?" And he didn't mind a bit. Without giving it much thought, over the period of a week, the nickname slipped from my tongue several more times. Do you suppose that's why they sent me the photo below?

Just a few days later, I got an email from our daughter with lots of new photos for us to drool over. There he was -- our seven month old Ethan posing and playing with a pumpkin in sunny Florida!

So I ask you, is it pumpkin or punkin? :-)

What October 31st means to me ...

2009-10-31T09:31:00.000-07:00

While to some, October 31 means Halloween and trick-or-treating, to me this day has an entirely different meaning. It's the day my Dad was born in 1922. Today would have been his 87th birthday! The story below shares the emotion of "letting him go" in 1991.

My hope, in sharing this story, is to honor the memory of my Dad. He wasn't a big man, but he was a giant in my eyes! He wasn't an educated man for the first half of his life, having only finished sixth grade to help support his mother and siblings when his Dad walked out on them. At age 50, he earned his GED and began Bible college and earned his degree in 1977.

He wasn't a loud man -- he was rather quiet. What drew your attention was his appearance. Many people considered him "distinguished," because he dressed nicely, head his head high and looked like a professor.

Dad wasn't stuck up though -- on the contrary, he was a humble man that knew how to appreciate his blessings, having been raised in the slums of New York city. He reached out to all levels of people won respect from everyone who knew him.

Yikes, I didn't think about all that when I was growing up! To me, he was a fun, relaxed father that didn't mind flying a kite with his fifth daughter. He enjoyed playing games, teasing his kids, loved the holidays and made them special (on a shoestring budget). In other words, he worked hard to provide pleasant family memories for all of us ... something he never had as a child.

He wasn't a center-stage man, preferring to stand on the sidelines and observe someone else take the spotlight. His calling as a minister and college professor (yes, he taught!) put him in front of others again and again.

Here's my story ...

The last gift I gave to my father wasn't wrapped. I hadn't shopped for it nor even paid for it. Actually, it cost me nothing but a moment of time. The giving of that gift all started with a phone call from my sister.

"Daddy's had a massive heart attack," her voice was shaky. "I'm here with Mom, and the doctor just told us to notify the family."

As I hung up, my mind was reeling, like someone had slapped me senseless. How could I possibly get there in time? My parents lived in Missouri, and I was in northeastern Kentucky - as far as you could go before leaving the state. It was a ten hour drive, at best. My husband held me while I cried, then urged me to pack the things we'd need for the next few days. He'd take care of everything else.

We left early the next morning and met his parents in Bowling Green, Kentucky where we handed over our three young children. Visiting them would be a special treat, and that eased my mind while hugging them goodbye. Back on the interstate, we pushed to finish the last half of our trip. I tried calling my mother and sister and got no response. From that point on, it seemed the ta-thump, ta-thump rhythm of our tires mocked, "Too late, Too late!" A severe headache crept up the back of my neck and settled behind my eyes.

When we arrived at St. Francis Hospital, I yanked the door open before the car came to a stop. Dashing down the hall to CCU, I found my family huddled in a corner of the waiting area. One good thing about having a large family in a crisis is that you have a built-in-support system. Another is having someone to hold onto and talk with as you sort through a myriad of emotions. But the down-side is that you can't go as a family group to a patient in cardiac care. We could only go in two at a time.

I dreaded that first peek at Daddy. A dozen wires and tubes were attached to him, and at least half that many machines were whooshing, beeping and buzzing around his bed. I had planned to be brave, but this was more than I bargained for! The man who taught me to live life to the fullest was now dying.

Turning to leave after my second visit, I felt a strong urge to go back in. I longed to give something special to my father - just some little token of my love for him. When I turned around, I found it. Someone had left the blinds open, and bright slits of afternoon light were creeping toward my father's face. Daddy's blue eyes had been sensitive to light as long as I could remember. Maybe the staff thought it wouldn't bother him, since he was in a coma. Maybe they just hadn't had time to close them for the evening. One way or the other, I had no intention of leaving them like that. So I crossed the room, closed the blinds and then bent over to kiss my father's cheek.

"I closed the blinds for you, Daddy," I whispered. "Now the light won't bother your eyes."

Later that night my father died. I've given him many gifts through the years, but I can't help thinking that last little love-gift is the one that meant the most to him. I know it does to me.

Thank you, Lord for the blessing of my wonderful Daddy - John Adam Keltie.

The many faces of Jason Cody

2009-10-30T14:54:00.001-07:00

Ahh, the precious poses and facial expressions of a newborn! I took these photos while visiting my new grandson in Virginia this past week. He's a real keeper!

# 1 "The Sleeper"

#2 "The Philosopher"

#3 The Communicator"

#4 The Concerned Citizen"

Nan in Virginia!

2009-10-26T14:16:00.000-07:00

Here I am holding my new little grandson, Jason Cody. He is three weeks old today! After waiting so long to meet him, having him in my arms is a wonderful feeling!

He has the cutest lil' frown between his brows in this photo and a few other photos I've taken, too. Maybe he's carefully considering everything about his new "outside" world and will soon make a decision ... on whether this one or the other (inside) is best.

What a joy to be here and help out. Today we spent some time rocking and reading and singing and sleeping. I'll say this -- he's one very alert little man who studies things carefully. He can also melt your heart. So far, he's given his Papaw and me some precious little smiles. What a thrill! I felt sorry for Phillip when he had to say goodbye and go back to Alabama yesterday. He had to report to work today, but he's called me twice to check on us. I think he's missing his little buddy.

I'm on a laptop that belongs to my daughter-in-law and can't figure out how to insert additional photos in different spots of this blog, so I'll add more later!

I heard a cry, and my heart responded ...

2009-10-19T18:33:00.000-07:00

Our son called the other night to talk about his son awhile. It's a blessing to hear your own child talking about parenthood and the awesome feeling of holding his own tiny newborn. While we talked, I heard a little mewing sound in the background.

Soon, it turned into a tight whimper and then a full, high-pitched cry. My heart responded immediately! Our brand-new grandson was making conversation, though not necessarily with his Nana on the phone. There was a rustling sound and then our son's deep voice.

"Hang on a minute, Nana ..."

More static over the phone as he situated Jason Cody on his shoulder and said, "Okay, big boy, I know there's a burp in there somewhere. Show Nana how you can burp!"

It's an amazing thing how the human heart continues to grow and enlarge through the years. I know mine has certainly expanded each time a new family member has made an appearance.

First, there was a sweet baby girl named Melissa, who made her entrance at 5 a.m. on a lovely Saturday morning in May of 1980. The doctor held her up for me just as she opened her mouth and gave a pitiful little Where-am-I? cry, and my heart responded.

Oh, how we loved our dainty firstborn child! Just looking at her perfectly-formed fingers, toes, chin, eyelashes and mouth could bring tears to my eyes. Could there ever be another baby so precious?

Two years and one week later, our hearts nearly burst with joy again. It was 6:32 on a June morning in 1982 when our son Jason arrived ... fast! The dr. described that delivery as if our son was "on a slippery slide and there was no stopping him!" Seconds later, he split the silence of the delivery room with a lusty cry! My mommy heart responded again, swelling with love and compassion and tenderness for our little man. Holding him close to my heart, I couldn't help laughing and crying at the same time.

How could we possibly love two children so much! Yet love them we did, and our happy little home seemed perfect and complete with one lovely daughter and one handsome son. Imagine my surprise when hubby suggested, two and a half years later, that we consider having another baby?

He had been to a men's conference and was extremely touched by a story a young father shared that day. Like us, this couple had a son and a daughter and figured their family was complete. One afternoon, however, their children surprised them with an unexpected request. Offering a jar full of pennies, nickles and dimes, they asked, "Could you use this to get us a little baby brother or sister? "

The father shared, at the conference, how unreasonable it all seemed ... their dreams of one boy and one girl had been fulfilled. Their lives were organized and prioritized to the "nth" degree, and he thought things were just fine. Should they even consider another baby? Why were the children so anxious for one when the parents were not?

It struck him as selfishness on his part -- strictly for convenience sake. Didn't God say that children are a blessing? He and his wife agreed to pray about it and ask God to tender their hearts if another child was His will for them.

Long story short, they did have a third child and their family was blessed beyond measure with the little 'caboose.' Why was my husband telling me all this? It was a sweet story, and I was moved by the tenderness in my husband's eyes as he related it, but...

We had recently sold off the playpen, crib, walker, highchair and everything else related to baby care. We, too, had finally settled into a little routine, and our son was sleeping well through the night after 15 months of up-and-down. (He wasn't a crier, he was just a happy night owl!)

It was almost unbelievable to think of starting again, wasn't it? I was in shock, to say the least. My hubby didn't press the issue. That night, when he prayed with me before bedtime, we specifically asked for God's wisdom and guidance in the matter of another child.

Long story short, we had a third child and our family was blessed beyond measure! On a blustery, raw day in January 1986 -- after a painful labor and our son being born with the umbilical cord choking him to blue and purple -- we cried out to the Lord!

When Kevin finally gave out a serious cry, my heart responded. Such relief and joy and bliss and thanksgiving it was to hold another son in my arms! A healthy son that was going to be just fine! God is so good, and we thank Him for each of our children.

Watching them grow up was a delight to my heart. There have been times -- many times -- I would pause to observe them working or playing together and think ... What we would have missed if we had stopped at two! It was hard to imagine life without our cuddly, comical, curly-headed Kevin. Surely, my cup -- and my heart -- was truly full!

Time rocked along, and our children grew up, left home for college and met their future spouses.
In 2005, the Lord gave us a brand-new daughter (in law) -- a perky, precious girl who thinks our son hung the moon. My heart expanded again.

In 2006, a son (in law) was added to the clan when Luke married our daughter, and lo and behold, I had room enough in my heart for him, too. He is a fine man and treasures our girl, so what more could we ask?

Their son Ethan was born in March of 2009, and we got to the hospital shortly after his arrival. I didn't hear him cry at all until the day we took him home to new surroundings. When I did hear him cry, my heart responded again... almost like he was my own. We sure have learned to love that precious lil' guy. When I am with him or hear his baby noises over the phone, my heart is full of love and joy.

And now we have Jason Cody! I can hardly wait to get him in my arms and fall in love all over again. I've learned the heart is an amazing organ and has plenty of room to grow. No matter how many family members are added, God has designed the human heart with the particular ability to expand with love!

Well, I'm off for now, but I'll post again when I get back, and I'll bring lots and lots of photos to share! For now, here's a sweet shot of my latest heart-expander ... doing some serious snuggling with his mommy.

"Every good gift and every perfect gift is from above ..." James 1:17

I'm not biased, I'm just a Nana!

2009-10-10T15:32:00.000-07:00

Is this a precious photo or what? Jason Cody, just five days old today, is modeling his puppy-dog beanie.
(Not, as our son informed me, a bunny beanie!)

Oh, how fun this grand-parenting experience has been. Moments ago, I received an email request to bring some baby onesies and outfits in various sizes.

Not just any, mind you, but some that bear a special logo -- University of Alabama and/or their motto, Roll Tide!

That's my son - still loyal to the home team! I think he plans to indoctrinate his son into this BAMA tradition. That way, he'll have a good buddy to help root for the Tide when they play on TV. I like that idea, myself.

Unless I'm sorely mistaken, my son and *his* son are probably cuddled up together in the cozy man-cave this very moment -- cheering on favorite NFL players and college teams, too. How I'd like to peek in on that happy little scene!

I suspect, though, that one of them would be excited and making a running commentary on passes, plays, fumbles and tackles. The other, however, might just be modeling his beanie with his eyes closed. Sleep on, little one... you should have plenty of time later to learn all about football.

We'll see you in about 12 days, Lord willing!

Meet my grandson!

2009-10-06T07:42:00.000-07:00

And heeeeeerrrrrre he is -- our precious Jason Cody. These photos came through earlier, but I had to hold off on sharing until his Papaw (my dear hubby) could get to a computer and see them first. After all, he's the father of the father of this particular baby boy!

He and his Mommy had a bumpy ride through labor (22 hours with little progress) and at one point, his heart rated dropped drastically. Thus, the C-section for a quick retrieval.

We are thanking the Lord for His goodness and mercy in giving us little Jason Cody. I'm not sure if he will be called Cody, Jason or Jason Cody... but I'll let you know when I know! Here's the little family together... enjoying a special moment on his "birth" day...

"You have covered me in my mother's womb. I will praise You, for I am fearfully and wonderfully made! Your eyes saw my substance even before I was complete, and in Your book all my members were written -- which, over time, were fashioned. How precious are Your thoughts unto me, O God!" Psalm 139:13-17

A precious child is born ~

2009-10-05T21:44:00.001-07:00

We are grateful for our little Pooh's safe arrival! When our son called, the joy in his voice was obvious as he reported both mommy and baby were fine.

We then discussed those all-important statistics every grandmother wants to know at that moment ...

Birth weight? Seven pounds and eight ounces. Length? Twenty and three-quarter inches long. Hair? Some, and it may be strawberry blonde. Time of arrival? Approximately 4:55 EST.

The fifth day of October, in the year of our Lord two thousand and nine, is a very special date, indeed, and shall be permanently etched on my heart.

"Hey, Mom, I sent you a pic of your new grandson ... check your cell phone, and I'll call you right back."

He did call right back, but I couldn't get the pic to download! Turns out, I'm not subscribed to that particular "extra" via my cell phone provider, so he's promised to send one through email tomorrow.

When we last spoke at 8:30 EST, the new little family was totally exhausted and needed to get some sleep. Oh, yes -- Jason did say "He's been awake since birth and is focusing and alert. He also got stuck four times and never cried."

Moments later, while we were still on the phone, our grandson began to exercise his lungs -- and specifically, his right to privacy... "He's getting his diaper changed, and he doesn't like it."

Ahhh... but what a wonderful sound to this Nana's ears. My little grandson was letting me know he was healthy and had the gumption to communicate his wishes -- and complaints!

I reminded his daddy that he, too, had good lungs at birth. In fact, the head nurse in the neonatal unit told me when Jason cried, he woke up all the other babies and soon had every baby in the nursery crying along with him!

What a joy to talk with my son on the day of *his* son's birth. I wanted to know what it was like for him to hold his own little man? "One of the best feelings ever ..."

Before we said goodbye, I asked him to kiss his sweet little wife and thank her for being a trooper through 22 hours of labor. We are so very grateful she and baby are fine. I also had him promise to kiss our grandson's toes for me -- my signature greeting for newborns.

Thank you, Lord for our sweet little Jason Cody! This is one happy Nana signing off until tomorrow. Can't wait to share some photos when they come through ...

Oh little Pooh, where are you?

2009-09-29T08:15:00.000-07:00

Today's date, 09-29-09, has special meaning for our family. It is our daughter-in-law's due date and marks the upcoming birth of our second grandchild. She was hoping this would be the day and has remarked, "I love the numbers -- 09 - 29 - 09 !

Winnie the Pooh and friends is the theme of their nursery. It's a lovely, peaceful room with the classical Pooh from days gone by (not the newer, Disney version Pooh). The colors are neutral enough to work with boys or girls, though this baby has already been tagged during sonograms as a little boy! We can't wait to meet him.

I hadn't realized the classical theme only had four animals: Pooh Bear, Piglet, Tigger and Eeyore. Those are the four you'll find in the older Winnie-the-Pooh storybooks and drawings. They are also the ones featured in our new grandchild's nursery. There is just one thing missing in this lovely room, however. We can hardly wait to see our new "little Pooh" in here!

Waiting is tough, especially when you're so far from those you love. We have been praying about this event for many months and especially in the last weeks. None of us know the exact day he will arrive, but my Grandmother Denton, who helped deliver many babies, would always say, "Don't fret -- when the apple is ripe, it will drop!"

This photo shows the lovely bassinet our daughter-in-law slept in when she was a newborn. It has been refurbished for the baby and is anxiously awaiting him! This means our little Pooh will be portable -- moving downstairs when Mommy is in the kitchen or visiting Daddy's man-cave to hang out and watch a football game.

I love the thought that he'll get to use this family heirloom! He also has his maternal grandfather's bowl and will use his maternal grandmother's silver spoon and fork.

Our plans are to go up in late October, a few weeks after mommy and baby are back home and in that sweet, cozy nursery. Not that we wouldn't like to be there when the baby comes, but this is our daughter-in-law's time with her own mother, grandmother and extended family.

They should be with the new mommy first. And there needs to be a *bit* of time alone as a little family of three. I know our son is going to be a good daddy and will take special care of his wife and son. They will make a lovely family.

I'll be sure to keep you posted. You all know me well enough by now to be sure of one thing --- we'll take lots of photos of our little Pooh and his parents to share with you!

Autumn's reminder ...

2009-09-15T06:18:00.000-07:00

Autumn is officially "just around the corner," and it's already begun to make an appearance. There are some leaves turning here .. those on sumac bushes and our black gum tree out near the mailbox.

The photo here was taken of some dogwood trees last fall in the mountains of Tennessee. We had gone for a little retreat of our own and went to Fairhaven, a peaceful getaway for anyone, but particularly built for and reaching out to those in ministry.

It certainly is a quiet, lovely place with wonderful chalets and a rustic, welcoming lodge. Even the drive up the mountain to the lodge is a feast for the eyes.

While there, we took time to reflect on the busy months of the earlier part of that year -- as a couple, as parents, as pastor and wife in the ministry, and as grandparents (we'd just received news of our daughter's pregnancy at the time.)

That trip was a blessing in so many ways. The staff at Fairhaven were so kind and accomodating. A nice-sized library of games, books and puzzles were on loan to anyone who wished to use them. A roaring fireplace was in the main lobby with plenty of rocking chairs waiting for visitors to sit and chat.

The chalets had one master bedroom, a full kitchen, nice-sized livingroom/dining combo and an upper level with twin beds. The sofa made out into a bed, too, so it was possible to sleep six people comfortably.

Our chalet was literally backed up to a mountainside. Before us, outside the picture window, we could see the glorious hills -- their peaks and valleys taking on various hues at differnt times of the day or evening.

Early mornings, we would take a cup of hot cappuccino or tea out on the deck and listen to the birds greet the day. Below us, a pond beckoned with a cheery red rowboat tethered to the bank. A duck family floated, waddled and quacked, claiming their rightful territory. Streams and creeks were abundant in the area and made a musical backdrop as they dabbled or dashed over moss-covered stones.

Autumn is a wonderful time for retreats and mini-vacations. Even a short drive through the countryside refreshes the body, mind and spirit. God's creation is all around us, and when He adorns it with the colors of autumn, we need to take notice!

Take your little ones outdoors to collect pretty leaves and save some well-ribbed ones for crayon rubbings. Introduce the art (and work) of raking leaves by promising your children a chance to jump in the pile after it gets "this high." Even adults can hardly resist the urge to revisit childhood and romp a bit.

Our two older ones loved to bury their brother in a pile and then come get me. "Mom, have you seen Kevin anywhere?" I'd stall a bit, giving our 3-year old time to bolt upright and holler, "Here I am!"

Autumn is also a great time for hikes, bike rides, roasting marshmallows and cozying up to a fire on the hearth -- or sitting around a snapping bonfire outdoors. The smells and sights in autumn are gifts from our Lord.

It is His reminder to us that even though life on this earth is temporary, it is full of beautiful moments. As we lift our hearts and voices in praise to Him, we are refreshed and He is glorified. Autumn reminds us to slow down and enjoy the last few weeks of beauty and wonder before the trees are stripped of color.

I hope you and your loved ones have a blessed autumn!

What to do with junk mail ...

2009-09-08T17:36:00.000-07:00

I don't know about you, but I'd much rather get a letter or card or magazine in the mailbox than to find something marked "Occupant." In other words, junk mail.

It might be a flimsy sale paper from some store half way across the state offering a dozen donuts to the first buyer of their brand new fake fur foot stools. Maybe it's a crazy ad about humvees and artillery tanks being given away by the government. Then there are the slick and glitzy offers to upgrade your (non-existent) pool to an Olympic-sized, marblelized outdoor spa! You get the idea ...

So just what does one do with junk mail, anyhow? That seems to be question Ethan is pondering here while sitting on Papaw's lap. Teeth on it? Does it rip easily? Why does it make a crinkly sound when you wad it up? Hmmmm... if it's bright and pretty, does that make it taste better?

Our junk mail normally goes right into the garbage, but we couldn't resist tolerating it long enough to let our five-month old grandson explore it while I snapped a few photos. Normally, he focuses on the camera and grins (quite a ham, already) but he was too fascinated with Papaw's cast-off mail to even look up.

Maybe thinking outside the (mail) box is the solution, folks. Perhaps junk mail has all kinds of uses after all. Slap a label on it with your child's name and have him or her open their own mail. Cut it up into strips and make paper chains on rainy days. Collect various types and weights of junk mail and see if you can form a "Junk-Mail Family Band."

The name does have possibilities, you know. I'm just not sure you'd get a big following or could come up with a good recording -- unless ... perhaps ... well, just think of the possibilities. Junk mail makes all kinds of sounds, depending on what type of paper it is and what you do with it. Wad it, tear it, flip through a short stack of it, fold it, snap it, crush it or rattle it -- all of which make varying tunes and tones on the junk-mail musical scale.

I'm sure there is *some* good use for junk mail ... and our grandson may be the first one to figure it out. Just look at the concentration on that little brow!

The little fisherman

2009-09-05T10:13:00.000-07:00

This is Ethan on his first fishing trip with Papa Jack. I just love the cute expression on his face! We are learning that Ethan likes being outdoors as much as his Daddy and Mommy do. Both his grandpas are also outdoorsmen, so he comes by it naturally.

My, how babies change in two months' time. Since we last saw him, Ethan has gained weight, better balance, discovered his feet and toes, flips back and forth between back and stomach and sits up in a high chair and walker. He also loves for someone to read to him.

We've also learned he's quite the comic. The expressions he makes at times seem to say, "Gotcha!" or "Yeah, right..." or "Can you do this?" or "Really!"

This week has been special in many ways, one of which is that we've seen all three of our children in the last five days. Considering they are scattered from Virginia to Florida, that's quite a feat.

Last weekend, we saw our son and his wife in Virginia and I attended her baby shower (see blog below this one). Then, two days after we got home, our daughter, son-in-law and grandson arrived! On Thursday evening, we went out to eat and met up with our other son, so we've had our parenting cup filled with lots of love, laughter and new memories to cherish.

At 4:30 this morning, I heard a tap on our bedroom door. Melissa and Ethan poked their heads in and asked if I'd like to cuddle with my grandson while they loaded the car for their trip back south. Hubby was at work on an early shift, but he had some special time with our sweet grandson last night.

What a joy it's been to host them the past three days! They are very laid back and easy to please, so having them here in our home is relaxing. Saying goodbye this morning was tough, knowing we'll probably not see them again until the holidays. Many more changes will occur between now and then, and our lil' guy will most likely be crawling, standing and saying his first words by then.

I guess that's the only drawback to the grand-parenting experience -- about the time you get your quota of hugs and cuddles and your heart expands to fill up with more love and happy memories, you have to say goodbye again ...

Of sailboats and sharing ...

2009-09-01T09:34:00.000-07:00

We drove to Virginia to see our son and his wife this past weekend. They are in a new home now and are soon expecting their first child. I was able to attend her baby shower while we were there.

It was such fun to see her open all the little packages with tiny outfits, blankets, books and booties, stuffed animals and tiny toys!

Along with those, there were heirlooms handed down from Kerry's side of the family -- among them, a silver porringer her own father used and her mother's first silver spoon. They are lovely pieces with special meaning.

The quilt shown in the photo was one that was lovingly hand-stitched for me when I was expecting. We tucked this quilt around our little Jason on special occasions 27 years ago. Later, it was wrapped in tissue paper and stored in a cedar chest for safe keeping. There, the sailboat quilt has rested, waiting to be shared.

When Kerry opened it at the shower, there were lots of oooh's and aaaaah's around the room with comments about its beauty and like-new condition. What a joy to think our little grandson will soon be wrapped in the same quilt that cuddled his Daddy many years ago!

Sharing an heirloom is one way to show we cherish memories of days gone by. It's also a good way to remind our children they are an important link in the family chain. By preserving special items and handing them down, we connect the dots from past, present and future. In the process, our children begin to make their own memories -- and, perhaps, they will enjoy passing along some of the same heirlooms to the next generation.

Can't wait to meet our grandson!

A little behind in my blogging ...

2009-08-18T20:01:00.000-07:00

As you can see, I've been otherwise occupied and haven't kept my calendar pages turned each day. Today is the 18th, but the picture isn't nearly as cute as this one! Maybe the calendar artwork by Mary Engelbreit will make you smile and forgive my negligence about blogging.

A lot of things have happened since I last wrote -- one being I've learned to drive hubby's yard tractor to mow the lawn and orchard. He's been working 12-hour shifts and then trying to work some on his new shop, so I volunteered to do the yard last Thursday.

At first he hesitated, because he didn't want me getting my back out of whack with the bumps and occasional jolts (and jerky stops and starts every newbie has). I did okay, though, and the yard looks ... almost okay.

Boy, a lawn mower tells no lies! It leaves a clear trail behind to show where you've weaved and wobbled your way around the yard. No clear-cut lines like hubby's, but I'll learn. He bragged on me and said I'd done a fine job.

Now for the latest news on the home front. First, it's rained, so the grass has grown 2-3 inches since I mowed! More importantly, our daughter-in-law is officially 7 weeks away from her due date. Grandson #2 is nearly ready to make his grand entrance, and we are getting excited!

We bought tickets to fly up after his birth, allowing a couple weeks extra just in case she goes way past her due date. We also decided, on the spur of the moment, to drive up at the end of this month for her baby shower. It will be our first time to see them since they've been expecting, and our first time in their new home.

It also happened to fall on the weekend of our wedding anniversary ... so the trip will be a combination getaway of sorts. We will visit with the kiddos over the weekend and then start home on Monday, spending a day and night along the way to relax and reminisce about 35 years together. Sure am glad I married this man. :-)

Oh yes, since I last wrote, our other grandson --Ethan -- has cut his first two teeth. He will be five months old a week from today and is growing up so fast! Melissa said he loves turning from back to tummy and back again and strains to scoot around. The doctor says he's a big boy for his age -- 24.6 inches and 16.8 pounds. Sure do miss that lil' guy!

Well, I'd better go turn a few more calendar pages and catch up on some things before I head off to bed!

Kindergarten memories ...

2009-08-04T20:36:00.001-07:00

A friend told me her 5-year old son has really been looking forward to school until this week. Seems he saw a picture of his new kindergarten teacher and decided she "looks mean."

I'm not quite sure what mean looks like ... but perhaps the teacher had a serious look instead of a smile. Or maybe she looked like no one he knew personally, and he wasn't anxious to meet her.

Or perhaps, in his young mind, the teacher in the photo was trying to usurp Mom's place in his heart. Whatever his reason, I can identify with the difficulty of adjusting to new schedules and the disconnect from my own mother when classes began.

Mrs. Fischer was my teacher, and I was assigned to her afternoon class. If I remember correctly, she had curly blond hair, a pleasant smile and a perky attitude. She looked nice enough, and I was anxious to get started. The first few days were wonderful (!) and I made lots of new friends.

Later that week, things went haywire in a hurry. When I walked into the classroom one day, someone had switched the students! None of the faces looking at me were familiar at all. It was an odd sensation, standing there and feeling I'd landed in the wrong room. But the room was the same, Mrs. Fischer was at the front, and I was in the right room. But my new friends had been replaced with strangers.

When Mrs. Fischer noticed me standing there, she stopped her little band of students (who were happily marching to music) and said in her perky voice, "Nancy, you are here too early. This is still the morning class."

Horrified, I shrank back out the door, ran to the end of the hall and pushed against the heavy metal door. Outside, I plopped down on the concrete porch and cried. What had gone wrong?

In looking back on that day, I still can't place the pieces of that puzzle together. Perhaps Mom had to take my baby brother for a checkup and walked me to school earlier than usual. Perhaps a neighbor had given me a ride and I got there too soon.

I don't remember all the details, but I do remember the warm puddle that began seeping into my dress and socks. Now I was doubly horrified. I never wanted to step foot in that school room again!

Somehow, it all worked out in the end. I don't remember who rescued me, who called my mother or how I got fresh clothing before the afternoon class began. Mrs. Fischer wasn't a mean teacher at all -- she was probably inexperienced and just didn't handle the situation very wisely. You'll be glad to know I learned to love kindergarten and passed with flying colors.

I hope my friend's son enjoys kindergarten year. I also hope that "mean-looking" teacher turns out to be a nice one. Thankfully, kindergarten lasts all day now, so he won't have to worry about getting there too early -- or walking in on the wrong class!

Doubly blessed ...

2009-07-30T15:41:00.000-07:00

Melissa called to let Ethan "talk" with his Nana the other day. She would say, "Can you talk to Nana?" and we would wait ... and wait.

Then I would say, "Hey, little guy ... Nana loves you..." More silence. A few moments later I heard a little chortle and sigh, then he began goo-ing.

For some reason, he loves diaper time ... it's a chance to get Mom's full attention, and when she leans over the changing table, she's so close he can almost touch her face!

When I was in their home, I loved watching this interaction. Melissa would say something to Ethan and then pause and wait a moment. Then she'd say something else and ask, "So what do you think about that?" Again, she would wait for him to make an attempt to "talk."

He would wriggle and arch his back, straining to get closer to his Mommy. Those eyes were "talking" even if his little mouth couldn't form the words. Melissa told me she'd read that most of us hold one-sided conversations with babies and don't ever pause to show them it's their turn to respond ... so she tries to do that.

Back to her phone call. As Melissa prompted and then paused, I could imagine his eyes dancing with joy at her loving attention. Then, a sudden sigh with a "gooooooo" tucked on the end. Then another... and soon, an "Ah goooooo..." which I interpreted to mean "I'm good." Just four months old, and he already knows how to charm us all.

Not that this Nana and Papaw need any excuses ... we are two sappy people when it comes to the adventure of grandparenting. It's such a blessing and joy to our hearts, and we thank the Lord for Ethan. He is one of those good gifts God has bestowed upon us.

Speaking of the Lord's good gifts, our son called home yesterday and told us the doctor said our daughter in law is nearing her 32nd week of pregnancy. She's doing well, and their baby (a boy) is growing just fine.

How can two people be so very blessed? God has given us two grandsons whose birthdays will be within six months of each other! I think they'll be great buddies when we gather for family reunions in the years ahead. We are indeed rich as grandparents. I can't wait to introduce you to our next little fella!

The Separation Solution

2009-07-27T06:45:00.000-07:00

When our sons were younger, they usually played quite well together -- whether it was building forts, playing with GI Joe's, riding their bikes or constructing castles with LEGOS, they were together more often than not. On those occasions when they were being selfish or cranky, bickering and tattling, I stepped in.

"Go to your own rooms and shut the doors. No talking through the walls, no looking out your doors. You cannot speak to each other for one hour."

Lest you think I was a complete ogre, they were allowed to read or play quietly on their own.

This accomplished two things. The innocent one (if there was an innocent) got some relief and a bit of time to play alone! It also served as a bit of reverse psychology. Knowing they could NOT be together made them WANT to be together more than anything! Ah, the fickle heart.

I could hear them (even through closed doors) heaving these long sighs and knew the reality had set in. They were thinking deep thoughts and probably mulling over the wisdom of being nice to each other. Maybe having a brother wasn't so bad after all... they needed each other, right? Good biking buddies, fort builders, game partners, and more.

Who knows ... maybe they were just thinking they didn't need each other as much as they needed one another's share of the LEGOS, Lincoln Logs or GI Joe's.

Whatever was going on in their little heads, the separation solution worked wonders. At least once during the hour, I was summoned by one or the other (or both.)

"Mom?'

"Yes."

"How much longer?"

"You've still got 25 minutes until the timer dings."

More long sighs ... and occasionally, a muttering complaint about how stupid they had been to argue. When the timer in the kitchen finally dinged, both boys exploded out of their rooms and grabbed one another in a bear hug.

"C'mon, bubby! Bring your GI Joe's over to my room ..."

"Yeah, and we can build a big fort to put 'em in!"

... Sweet music to a mother's ears. I guess the saying "Absence makes the heart grow fonder" really is true - or, rephrased, "Separation from your brother when you wanna borrow his GI Joe's is almost unbearable."

How fifteen pounds can change your life ....

2009-07-25T08:16:00.000-07:00

Today, Ethan is 4 months old and weighs 15 pounds!

What a joy it's been to experience grandparenting this child. Even though we've only been with him on a dozen occasions, every moment of those hours and days was packed full of bonding and a precious emotional attachment. He's changed my life!

It's amazing how a grandchild makes you want to take better care of yourself. I've been walking more, eating less (most of the time), exercising on our Bowflex and trying, in general, to stay fit. How is it a 15-pound baby could bring about such drastic changes in his Nana's life!?

It's quite simple, really -- I want to be around to see him grow up! It's amazing the things he's taught me in the past four months. I often look at something and wonder how he would see it. I hear something that I'd like him to hear, I smell cookies and think of baking cookies for him some day.

This little guy has been quite a teacher without ever saying a word. The way he notices every little sound, or gets excited when he sees a shiny object reminds me how important it is to see things through the eyes of a child. They look with eyes of wonder on what has become, to grownups, all too common in our mad rush through each day.

Consider, for instance, the delicate wings of a butterfly ... the speed of a hummingbird or the slow determination of a turtle crossing the road ... the glorious sunrises and sunsets that streak a summer sky and the black drop of night skies punctuated with silver stars. Children notice.

I also want to listen for sounds with the ears of a young child -- hearing and really listening to the marvelous creation and the people and things within it ...

Listen to the sound of a whippoorwill in the darkness... or children laughing in a neighbor's yard ... and the mockingbird's solo from his perch on the telephone pole. Hear the whistle of a train in the distance and the whinny of the neighbor's horse. Even the simple drip of a faucet is noticed by little children.

It's amazing how fifteen pounds can change your life. Thanks, Ethan, for being Nana's teacher. Have a happy 4-month celebration with Mommy and Daddy, okay? Papaw and I love you!

Three years!

2009-07-22T20:10:00.000-07:00

Today, July 22, is their third wedding anniversary. It's hard to believe that much time has passed since I saw our lovely daughter smile her way down the aisle on her Daddy's arm.

I was so happy for her I couldn't help crying. She was such a beautiful bride and had waited so long for the right man. On that day three years ago, he was waiting for her -- at the front of the church. It was a beautiful wedding in every way.

So many people gifted them by sharing their God-given talents on that special day. Lovely little nosegays arranged by a dear friend hung on the end of pews ... an arch and columns loaned by a relative ... a wedding cake made by a friend ... a banquet table full of homemade cakes (!) that were the talk of the reception ... a photographer that's known our daughter since she was ten years old ... another friend who video-taped the ceremony as a gift... a group of ladies who love to serve, busily coordinating things in the church kitchen ... it was a lovely day all around.

"It's gone by so fast," she told me on the phone yesterday.

Life happens, and when you stop to notice, another week or month (or year!) has slipped past. Today, they celebrated their marriage and -- I suspect -- reminisced about the goodness of God in bringing them together. I'm sure they also did a rundown of the special events that have taken place in their lives -- one extra-special one the birth and joy of little Ethan! This Nana is guessing he gave them the only gift he could give (and a fitting one) on their special day -- bright eyes and happy smiles.

The photo above was taken a year after they married. I snapped it as they looked out over the bay, arms and hearts entwined. It seemed to depict something far grander than a couple looking over the bay. I dubbed it "We Look Forward." Together, as a couple, they would face the future and the many adventures it held for them.

A lot of water has lapped the shore since this was taken. They've moved twice and had a baby. Now they're starting a brand new year together as husband and wife -- still so much in love with one another. Happy Anniversary, kiddos! We love you and will be praying for health and happiness in the year ahead. We're so very thankful the Lord brought the two of you together. (And made you a threesome!)

Love, Mom and Dad

The fifth child ...

2009-07-18T09:24:00.000-07:00

The young couple had four daughters. When a fifth baby was due, there was great hope it would be a son. All during the woman's pregnancy, the thought was there -- she wanted to give her husband a son this time!

On a cold November day in the early hours of morning, the mother awoke and "just knew" she needed to get to the hospital. Since her husband was across town working a night shift, she called her next-door neighbors. They came over and took charge -- the woman stayed with four little girls, and the man loaded a very pregnant, in-serious-labor woman into the back seat of his car.

He happened to be a deputy, and his car happened to be equipped with a siren and flashing lights... so there was no problem getting her to the hospital on time!

The baby was delivered without incident at 7:10 a.m. The father had arrived by that time and anxiously awaited news. When the doctor came out, he told him his wife was fine. His little baby girl was also doing well. Yes - another daughter. The gender scales in his household were seriously tipped to the feminine side: 6-1 now!

What emotions struggled in that father's chest on receiving the news? Some disappointment? A bit of resignation to the fact he would have no sons? Possibly. But he was a good man, a good husband and a good father. He thanked God for a safe delivery and another healthy baby.

It had been an eventful day with a dramatic start. That father named his little girl Nancy Lorraine Keltie. Her family calls her Nan. That's how I started my life -- delivered to the hospital with sirens blaring. Maybe that's why I've always been a gal of action with a flair for the dramatic!

Long-distance Nana

2009-07-15T17:12:00.000-07:00

Our daughter and son-in-law came through late last night with little Ethan. They are moving to Florida, which means they will be twice as far away as they were before. After a short night and a bit of Ethan-cuddling, my emotions were doing flip-flops. When my hubby held him and I took this photo, my heart nearly melted.

We're going to miss this little guy. Since he was born in March, I've personally made at least three trips to their home (4 hours away) and they've been in our home on three occasions. Plus, dear hubby and I have gone up together twice, so that means in his short life (3 months), we been blessed to cuddle and coo with our grandson on many occasions. I realize there are many grandparents who don't have this privilege, so I appreciate the blessing of knowing Ethan.

Every time we've said goodbye in the past, it felt like a part of my heart was left behind, still connected with this child's heart. He has always had such a grown-up look in his eyes, as if he understands everything I say to him. We've shared a lot of special moments, the two of us. I've walked and rocked him through those first few weeks after his birth when Mommy needed a bit of sleep. Most nights, he fell asleep on my tummy while I rested on the couch.

Now, a big chunk of my heart is moving eight hours south to Florida. I'm sure Ethan will change a lot before our next together-time. During our last moments together this morning, he gazed into my eyes and seemed to understand I was having a tough time disconnecting. In the past, he's grinned and chortled, but this morning, he had an almost wise look in his eyes ... a look that said, "It's going to be okay, Nana ... "

Forgive my pitiful post. I'm hurting, but I'm also happy for my kids. Do hurt and happy go together? I think so in this case. I'm hurting to say goodbye to them, but happy they have a lovely home to move into when their furniture is delivered. I'm also happy they will be closer to Ethan's other grandparents -- Nonny and Papa -- so they can love on him more often. They're precious people and Ethan needs to know them better.

So I have to grow up and get used to being a long-distance Nana. I shouldn't whine too much -- my own mother has been a long-distance Grandma to most of her grands and great-grands. She's handled it with grace, and I want to do that, too.

When our children were little, we lived 10 hours drive away, so I made it a point to send her and my Dad (who's now in heaven) audio tapes, video tapes and lots of cards and letters scribbled by little hands. Now it's my turn to be a long-distance Nana. Knowing our daughter, she'll be a good little scribe and make sure we keep up with our grandson's development.

While Florida is only (!) eight hours away, it seems much further somehow. Maybe because a part of my heart went out the door with little Ethan this morning. Okay, it's time to put on my little blue engine attitude -- I can do this. At least I think I can ... I think I can ... I think I can ...