One Parent

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.

A real man -- in every sense of the word

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.

Our parents made holidays special ...

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!

Take a closer look ...

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.

Some down-home country decor ...

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!

Surviving the spear-a-mints ...

Kevin loved doing hands-on science projects which he dubbed --at age 3 -- "spear-a-mints." Whether it involved mixing vinegar and baking soda for a homemade volcano or hooking things up to a 9-volt battery for Capsela robots or taking apart old radios, he was our little scientist in residence.

The photo at right is one of my favorites. At two, he was having a grand time filling bottle caps with water from a park fountain (which he fiddled with and figured out how to keep it flowing). Note the mud on his legs and that innocent look on his face.

I can't tell you the times he got in trouble (or danger) over his adventures. There was the time he poured water in the motor housing of an oscillating fan and should have been electrocuted, but he wasn't. Or the day he plugged the vacuum cleaner in and stuck the hose down in a bucket of water so he could wet-vac the carpet -- it's a wonder he didn't get fried on the spot!

So it was no surprise he sat around reading manuals for every computer game he and his brother bought. Or studied encyclopedias for fun. Kevin chose radio schooling in the U.S. Marine Corps and was thrilled to be the one who carried the big radio pack on his back. (Did you know, Mom, I'm the first guy they'll try to kill?) Thankfully, God spared his life on many occasions -- at home and abroad -- and we still have our Kevin. He's 23 now and has a place of his own --which is probably a good thing. At this point in my life, I'm not as fond of surprises.

Kev still loves reading technical manuals and fidgeting with wires and gadgets and electricity and power supplies. I'm just glad Best Buy has taken full responsibility for his spear-a-mints. They even *pay* the boy to take apart, investigate, re-assemble and re-define the criss-crossed, highly-wired innards of expensive computers. I suppose if something blows up in the process, their insurance oughta cover it.

Moms, take heart. If your child is always "into something" and has a love for spear-a-minting, you may have a future technician or scientist or inventor or Geek (!) roaming the halls of your home. My advice? Hide the vacuum cleaner, put a lock on all water faucets, stick anything flammable or untouchable way up high and then hang onto your hats. The in-home training process can be quite hair-raising at times!

The importance of nesting ...

The birds nest, as do other creatures who settle into their dens, foxholes, and various habitats. Whether they crawl in, climb up or fly to it, there is a special spot they return after a day of hunting, guarding, parenting, feeding and all the other jobs on their daily calendar. After the day's work is over, they go home and settle into the nest.

Last evening I sat down in my favorite spot on the couch and enjoyed a cup of cappuccino and the newspaper. My hubby was reading in his chair while a fire flickered on the hearth. I also had my first uninterrupted night's sleep -- in my own comfy bed -- for the first time in eight days.

Not complaining, mind you. I loved being with our daughter and son-in-law recently to help out with their little newborn. I loved rocking, swaddling and burping Ethan. Every time he looked into my eyes when I sang or talked to him, my heart melted a little bit more. It was a precious time of grandson-and-Nana bonding.

At the same time, it's good to be back with my husband again. This is where we read the paper, visit with neighbors and get our mail. It's where we study, write, balance our checkbooks, put out feed for the birds and plant a small garden. We've done a lot of nest-building and living here.

As parents with children at home, you are still building your nest. As you read together, play board games, do chores and talk with your children, you are strengthening your nest. When you go to work to earn a living and come back home to your family, you are investing in nesting.

Spend time in your nest and build sweet memories there. After a long day away, your nest is the perfect spot to relax and recharge your batteries. It's a place to curl up with a good book or perhaps paint or write. It's the one place where your heart is most at home.

Though our three children have grown and flown the family nest to start their own, this one is still active. I'm in it, my husband is in it, and most of all, our loving Heavenly Father is here with us. He has blessed us beyond measure!