. . . As I child, I remember the blinking lights that swarmed over the yard as I played on dusk descended summer evenings. Armed with empty mayonnaise jars with hole punched lids, my cousins and I captured a few creating our own faerie lanterns. Never keeping them captive long, we would open the jars and let them fly free when we were called inside to get ready for dinner. After dinner my grandmother would take her place in her rocking chair on the porch, where eventually, I would find my place on her lap. Oh, the memories.
In the twelve years since I’ve returned to the East Coast, I’ve bemoaned how few fireflies I’ve seen in the large expanse of yard around our house. Like the bees, they are disappearing. But this year, the fireflies are lighting up the trees at the edge of the meadow like Christmas trees. As a child, they were fun to watch, magical, but just things I grew up with - normal and ordinary. Now, lying in bed watching them sparkle in the darkest of dark, I find them not only magical, but a miracle and a blessing.
Wednesday, June 20, 2018
Wednesday, October 1, 2014
Doing Nothing
I am doing something I haven't done in a while - sitting in my chair in the sunroom in solitude, window open, birds singing, puppies sighing, sun shining, doing nothing. It is a beautiful fall day. The phone has not rung, for which I am so very happy. AND, I am doing nothing. With all the health issues and tests mostly behind me, I am devoting the rest of the week to doing nothing. The scans are done. By Friday the "Big P" test will be done! LOL Friday, Thom and I are going to the mountains to look at the beginning fall colors and just enjoy some time wandering around. Tonight we will be getting together with our Home Group from church - always, always a joy and a privilege. The same for tomorrow's Women's Oasis gathering.Though I am enjoying doing nothing the rest of this week, I am looking forward to the things on my to-do list - replanting my Monkey Paw fern, prepping the gardens for winter, working on some craft and art projects in my " studio," cleaning my office, (why is it always so cluttered?) joining the Y. Getting back to normal, God willing.
God willing, I will be able to continue to plan our 50th anniversary trip to Europe in the spring, refresh my French and German and learn the polite necessities in Dutch.
God willing I will rock my great-grand baby this winter, swaddled all cozy in my arms.
God willing, I will watch with pride as Keith graduates from high school in June.
God willing, life will go on awhile longer, as normal and I will never forget all the family and friends who love me, who pray for me, who stand with me and beside me and my God, who cares for me and listens to me and answers my prayers!
God willing.
Thursday, September 25, 2014
So, what happens when you finally hear the dreaded "C" word from your doctor? Your heart drops to the pit of your stomach - oh, right - that's where the "C" is. Doesn't sound good.
During a routine endoscopy, a polyp was found in my stomach, and was found to be cancerous. Or is it? (more about that, later) During a second endoscopy, the polyp was removed and as I have not yet heard from the lab, I would like to believe that the margins were clear and all of the cancer cells were removed. Meanwhile, over the last week, I have (after the initial shock and fear) remained fairly calm. I credit that to my own faith and the love and prayers for me from others who share my faith. And I must add, to those who send me love and good wishes, if not prayers. I thank you all.
It is amazing to me, a life long worrier, that I have worried so little about this. But I have in the past few years become much more mature in my faith. I have seen the power of prayer work, both my prayers and the prayers of others. I have learned to surrender to God, what which I have no power over and it has been so freeing. So, if I have cancer, I have cancer - I can't change that. (I still don't think of myself as having cancer. I think of myself as having had a cancerous polyp :-/ ) But, it can be removed, I can fight it if it is something more. Which brings me to my question earlier - is it/was it cancerous? I have been doing some research on that with which I have been diagnosed - a carcinoid.
"Carcinoid tumor is a rare type of tumor that grows slowly. Malignant tumors are cancers that often continue to grow and may spread to other areas of the body. Benign (noncancerous) tumors tend to grow more slowly and don't spread. Carcinoid tumors are somewhere between malignant and benign tumors. Carinoid tumors have been called cancer in slow motion, because if you have a carcinoid tumor, you may have it for many years and never know it."
My doctor last week told me that the lab had pronounced it a malignant carcinoma. However, a lab sheet I received said that it was a benign carcinoid. Hmmm. I think I shall have to ask about this. What I have deduced, though, is that if I am going to have cancer, this is a good one to have . . . assuming that it has not spread anywhere.
So to check for that, next week I have to go in for three one hour body scans. I'm gonna glow, folks! One on Monday, Tuesday and Thursday. And I have to take a blood test and urinalysis for which I must prep for by not eating chocolate (among other things - but that's the important one) for four days prior.
Now, you may find what I am about to say next strange, but - maybe this has all happened for the good. I have been feeling a little self pity lately. Feeling unloved, alienated from family and friends (bare with me - I know this was ME not you!) Asking God why was I so alone, why was nobody here for me? Maybe the next question kind of goes along with that feeling, but was also wondering - what am I here for, what do You want me to do with the rest of my life, what can I contribute?
Here are the answers I see, now! Alone? NO! Family and friends readily at my side. However, God, this was not particularly the way I wanted You to show me that! The family and friends who have rallied behind me with love and support have been overwhelming. Prayers have so worked to keep me calm and trusting in my Father God. I am not alone. Far, far from it. And what if one of the purposed God wanted me to fulfill from this was to show me - show others what faith can do. Or to show others how to fight the good fight?
I know that I will emerge from this with a different perspective of living. I have already started changing my eating habits. And I'm sure that I will look for and find what God wants me to do with what is left of my life on this earth. So, thank you God, for a wonderful, loving family, for friends who are so numerous I would have trouble beginning to count them - much less thank them all; for a church and pastors who encourage me; for a changed outlook on the future. With out this "C" I would probably still be miserable, wallowing in my self-pity.
By the way, the birds have returned.
During a routine endoscopy, a polyp was found in my stomach, and was found to be cancerous. Or is it? (more about that, later) During a second endoscopy, the polyp was removed and as I have not yet heard from the lab, I would like to believe that the margins were clear and all of the cancer cells were removed. Meanwhile, over the last week, I have (after the initial shock and fear) remained fairly calm. I credit that to my own faith and the love and prayers for me from others who share my faith. And I must add, to those who send me love and good wishes, if not prayers. I thank you all.
It is amazing to me, a life long worrier, that I have worried so little about this. But I have in the past few years become much more mature in my faith. I have seen the power of prayer work, both my prayers and the prayers of others. I have learned to surrender to God, what which I have no power over and it has been so freeing. So, if I have cancer, I have cancer - I can't change that. (I still don't think of myself as having cancer. I think of myself as having had a cancerous polyp :-/ ) But, it can be removed, I can fight it if it is something more. Which brings me to my question earlier - is it/was it cancerous? I have been doing some research on that with which I have been diagnosed - a carcinoid.
"Carcinoid tumor is a rare type of tumor that grows slowly. Malignant tumors are cancers that often continue to grow and may spread to other areas of the body. Benign (noncancerous) tumors tend to grow more slowly and don't spread. Carcinoid tumors are somewhere between malignant and benign tumors. Carinoid tumors have been called cancer in slow motion, because if you have a carcinoid tumor, you may have it for many years and never know it."
My doctor last week told me that the lab had pronounced it a malignant carcinoma. However, a lab sheet I received said that it was a benign carcinoid. Hmmm. I think I shall have to ask about this. What I have deduced, though, is that if I am going to have cancer, this is a good one to have . . . assuming that it has not spread anywhere.
So to check for that, next week I have to go in for three one hour body scans. I'm gonna glow, folks! One on Monday, Tuesday and Thursday. And I have to take a blood test and urinalysis for which I must prep for by not eating chocolate (among other things - but that's the important one) for four days prior.
Now, you may find what I am about to say next strange, but - maybe this has all happened for the good. I have been feeling a little self pity lately. Feeling unloved, alienated from family and friends (bare with me - I know this was ME not you!) Asking God why was I so alone, why was nobody here for me? Maybe the next question kind of goes along with that feeling, but was also wondering - what am I here for, what do You want me to do with the rest of my life, what can I contribute?
Here are the answers I see, now! Alone? NO! Family and friends readily at my side. However, God, this was not particularly the way I wanted You to show me that! The family and friends who have rallied behind me with love and support have been overwhelming. Prayers have so worked to keep me calm and trusting in my Father God. I am not alone. Far, far from it. And what if one of the purposed God wanted me to fulfill from this was to show me - show others what faith can do. Or to show others how to fight the good fight?
I know that I will emerge from this with a different perspective of living. I have already started changing my eating habits. And I'm sure that I will look for and find what God wants me to do with what is left of my life on this earth. So, thank you God, for a wonderful, loving family, for friends who are so numerous I would have trouble beginning to count them - much less thank them all; for a church and pastors who encourage me; for a changed outlook on the future. With out this "C" I would probably still be miserable, wallowing in my self-pity.
By the way, the birds have returned.
Sunday, July 21, 2013
Summer 1950
It is the sounds and smells of the East Coast that carry me back to the memories of my childhood in Virginia. Not the feel of soft summer breezes or the chill of autumn in the air. Not sight, for I lived in a suburban area then, not like the rural area I live I now. Not even the taste of the South that I could not find in the West - fried Taylor Pork Roll (aka Taylor Ham) or barbecue sandwiches topped with cole slaw - bring back memories as strong as sound and smell.
The smell of new mown grass, gardenias scenting the evening air. I can even conjure up smells to remember - the smell of some awful cough medicine my grandmother used to give me, or Geritol and so much more pleasurable, the strange and unique smell of the amusement park - a combination, I'm sure, of sea damp concrete, popcorn, peanuts and cotton candy!
When we first came to North Carolina, it was the sound of the birds that brought back those first wonderful memories. Birds songs not heard in California. Those long forgotten melodies were so wonderful to hear. Today, sitting on the patio in the back yard, listening not only to nature's sounds, the birds singing and the cicadas humming, but also to man made sounds - distant traffic and planes flying over head - perfectly brought back memories of being a child of summer in Virginia.
In 1950, polio was the big scare. For whatever reasons, the prevailing thought was to keep children indoors during the hot afternoons. Outdoor play happened in the morning. Cowboys and Indians was a favorite game and roller skating. Sometimes I would play in the dirt with friends in the shade of the tree building little cities made up mostly of roads and imaginary houses, choosing to "build" our houses in the crook of a tree root or somewhere in the open. But best of all, we would go across the street where the creek ran, trees on either side. There trees fallen across the creek would become our pirate ships or jungle bridges.
Afternoons, there were always naps and when not napping, coloring, or reading. TV was new and children's programs rare and generally in the mornings and/or on Saturdays, but I liked listening to the radio, often while playing dress up. The Naughty Lady of Shady Lane was one of my favorite songs! If it was a particularly hot day (we didn't have air conditioning - yes, I am that old) I would keep cool in the bath tub. Filled with lukewarm water, bubble bath (lily-of-the-valley - one of my conjured scents) and a plethora of kitchen utensils, I would play until my fingers turned prune-y pouring cups of water into pans, frothing the bubbles with the egg beater and making all kinds of imaginary goodies.
At my grandmother's, late afternoon was always bath time anyway. Bathed, dried, dusted with Yardly's English Lavendar Talcum Powder, I would be dressed in clean clothes (elastisized lacy on or off shoulder peasant blouses my favorites) and be ready for supper when the family gathered to eat.
Evenings and night times there were spent on the front porch slathered and scented with citronella. Sounds of the radio drifted down from the hot upstairs living room window where Pop was listening to a baseball game. Memama, other family members and sometimes Miss Mary, the mortician's wife from across the street, would sit conversing about the day while rocking back and forth in the rockers. My cousins and I would sometimes create plays which we acted out on the front steps, or play Red Light Green Light, Mother May I, Statues, and if we were really daring, go to the end of the street where the street light was and tell ghost stories and then scream all the way back to the house in the dark. Eventually, I would end up on my grandmother's lap watching the people go in and out of the theater across the street. The following memory is so vivid, I can see and hear it as if it were yesterday - some nights I would be awake as the last stragglers of the movie going crowd left, their voices clearly reaching across the street in the late night, and then watch as the lights of the marquee were shut down. But, most of the time I would fall asleep on Memama's lap and someone would carry me upstairs and put me to bed to rest for another fun filled summer day.
Those were beautiful days. I am glad I still have those memories. With God's blessings, I will not forget them as I grow older.
The smell of new mown grass, gardenias scenting the evening air. I can even conjure up smells to remember - the smell of some awful cough medicine my grandmother used to give me, or Geritol and so much more pleasurable, the strange and unique smell of the amusement park - a combination, I'm sure, of sea damp concrete, popcorn, peanuts and cotton candy!
When we first came to North Carolina, it was the sound of the birds that brought back those first wonderful memories. Birds songs not heard in California. Those long forgotten melodies were so wonderful to hear. Today, sitting on the patio in the back yard, listening not only to nature's sounds, the birds singing and the cicadas humming, but also to man made sounds - distant traffic and planes flying over head - perfectly brought back memories of being a child of summer in Virginia.
* * *
In 1950, polio was the big scare. For whatever reasons, the prevailing thought was to keep children indoors during the hot afternoons. Outdoor play happened in the morning. Cowboys and Indians was a favorite game and roller skating. Sometimes I would play in the dirt with friends in the shade of the tree building little cities made up mostly of roads and imaginary houses, choosing to "build" our houses in the crook of a tree root or somewhere in the open. But best of all, we would go across the street where the creek ran, trees on either side. There trees fallen across the creek would become our pirate ships or jungle bridges.
 |
Googled one day to see if
Yardley still made this and
they do. So I now have some
which I use on occasions.
Smells so good.
|
At my grandmother's, late afternoon was always bath time anyway. Bathed, dried, dusted with Yardly's English Lavendar Talcum Powder, I would be dressed in clean clothes (elastisized lacy on or off shoulder peasant blouses my favorites) and be ready for supper when the family gathered to eat.
Evenings and night times there were spent on the front porch slathered and scented with citronella. Sounds of the radio drifted down from the hot upstairs living room window where Pop was listening to a baseball game. Memama, other family members and sometimes Miss Mary, the mortician's wife from across the street, would sit conversing about the day while rocking back and forth in the rockers. My cousins and I would sometimes create plays which we acted out on the front steps, or play Red Light Green Light, Mother May I, Statues, and if we were really daring, go to the end of the street where the street light was and tell ghost stories and then scream all the way back to the house in the dark. Eventually, I would end up on my grandmother's lap watching the people go in and out of the theater across the street. The following memory is so vivid, I can see and hear it as if it were yesterday - some nights I would be awake as the last stragglers of the movie going crowd left, their voices clearly reaching across the street in the late night, and then watch as the lights of the marquee were shut down. But, most of the time I would fall asleep on Memama's lap and someone would carry me upstairs and put me to bed to rest for another fun filled summer day.
Those were beautiful days. I am glad I still have those memories. With God's blessings, I will not forget them as I grow older.
Sunday, July 7, 2013
Getting To Know You
I'm an only child. Well, sorta! I am my mother's only child and the oldest of my father's six children.
I was always very close to my paternal grandparents and spent much time with them. Pop would pick me up on Friday nights or Saturday mornings and take me home on Sunday afternoons. In the summer, I would spend weeks with them. But my father was not often around. I was about 11 years old when my father took me to see my newborn brother, Jeff. Don't remember much about it except that he was a tiny redheaded baby. In the subsequent years my father had four more children - Bonnie, Jamie, Sean and Kristie. I met Bonnie, Jamie and Sean while visiting in Virginia on our way to California when I was eighteen. And I met them all, except Jeff, in 1977 when Thom and I brought Tommy (age 11) and Diane (age 8) to the East Coast for vacation. Why I don't know, but no contact had ever been made by my family with Jeff and his mom though they lived in the same area. When my father was dying, Jeff saw him for the first time that he could remember - and met his other siblings. I was living in California at the time, raising young children and didn't make it to my father's funeral. But at that time information was gathered about Jeff which lead me on a search for him when I reached North Carolina and met up with Bonnie and my cousin, Tracy. He was a pastor - and he had lived in Roanoke. So, thank you Google, I started looking for him. Knew his name, knew he was a pastor, knew he was a redhead. I put the name and Roanoke into search engine and came up with a couple of leads - someone named Rusty Curling was listed on a couple of sites with music associations and local coffee house performances. Eventually, I found a pastor in Baltimore area and on December 20, 2008 when my sister Bonnie was here (she had lost contact with him, too) I emailed this message to him at 10:13 in the evening -
So that was the beginning of the reuniting of not only myself and my brother Rusty, but of all of us siblings. Over the last five years we have occasionally gotten together with the others when we could both make it to Norfolk at the same time. One Mother's day we had dinner at my sister Jamie's and had Rusty bring his mom, Betty Lee, the only surviving mother of us kids. It was a fun evening. Rusty and I have kept up on Face Book and through email, but haven't really had a lot of time to spend together. That was rectified this past week. Rusty, coming to a conference in Charlotte came early and spent several days with us. Don't know what kind of apprehension Rusty had, but I wondered how we would mesh. I knew we were both fairly liberal (he more so than I lol) , we liked the same kinds of music and both had pretty much the same spiritual philosophy. But, would that be enough?
Well, I had a grand time. We still need lots of exploring into what our lives, our childhoods were like, some time to explore our mutual family, but the days were relaxed and comfortable. Adrian and Morgan came over one evening and we all sat around and talked. Adrian played his guitar and after he left, Rusty played his. We went to the Raptor Center one very muggy and humid day, but that was the only thing wrong with it. Another day we drove to Cherokee and had another lovely time together. Looking forward to next visit!
How sad that it took us so long to find each other. How sad my father and my grandparents didn't get to know him. But how blessed that before I pass on from this world that I did find my brother - my lost sibling. Love ya, Rusty! Love all of you that were lost and are now found!
I was always very close to my paternal grandparents and spent much time with them. Pop would pick me up on Friday nights or Saturday mornings and take me home on Sunday afternoons. In the summer, I would spend weeks with them. But my father was not often around. I was about 11 years old when my father took me to see my newborn brother, Jeff. Don't remember much about it except that he was a tiny redheaded baby. In the subsequent years my father had four more children - Bonnie, Jamie, Sean and Kristie. I met Bonnie, Jamie and Sean while visiting in Virginia on our way to California when I was eighteen. And I met them all, except Jeff, in 1977 when Thom and I brought Tommy (age 11) and Diane (age 8) to the East Coast for vacation. Why I don't know, but no contact had ever been made by my family with Jeff and his mom though they lived in the same area. When my father was dying, Jeff saw him for the first time that he could remember - and met his other siblings. I was living in California at the time, raising young children and didn't make it to my father's funeral. But at that time information was gathered about Jeff which lead me on a search for him when I reached North Carolina and met up with Bonnie and my cousin, Tracy. He was a pastor - and he had lived in Roanoke. So, thank you Google, I started looking for him. Knew his name, knew he was a pastor, knew he was a redhead. I put the name and Roanoke into search engine and came up with a couple of leads - someone named Rusty Curling was listed on a couple of sites with music associations and local coffee house performances. Eventually, I found a pastor in Baltimore area and on December 20, 2008 when my sister Bonnie was here (she had lost contact with him, too) I emailed this message to him at 10:13 in the evening -
"My name was Sue Curling and my father was Francis Curling. I have been told that my brother, Jeffrey, was called "Rusty" and that he was a pastor. If you are indeed him, you are the last of my siblings that I have found and I will be so overjoyed. I look forward to hearing from you. Sue "At 10:32 I received a return message -
"Sue,
When I met the others on the night my father died, they told me there was one more. Yes I'm your brother and would love to get to know you better. I've also lost touch with the others and if you know how I can contact them would love to be in touch again.I am a pastor of a little church just outside of Baltimore Maryland. I am so glad you contacted me. When I read your message I started to cry. I still am.
Love and Blessings,
Rusty Curling
PS How did you find me? "
 |
| Back:Bonnie, Kristie's son, Kristie, Jamie, Rusty, Rusty's mom, Betty Lee. Front: Thom, Me, Jamie's hubby Rick |
 |
| My sister, Bonnie. |
 |
| Rusty and my cousin, Tracy - celebrating their birthdays. |
How sad that it took us so long to find each other. How sad my father and my grandparents didn't get to know him. But how blessed that before I pass on from this world that I did find my brother - my lost sibling. Love ya, Rusty! Love all of you that were lost and are now found!
Tuesday, January 29, 2013
It Isn't Coincidence
coincidence : the occurrence of events that happen at the same time by accident but seem to have some connection; also : any of these occurrences (Merriam Webster Dictionary)
Now we see things imperfectly, like puzzling reflections in a mirror, but then we will see everything with perfect clarity. All that I know now is partial and incomplete, but then I will know everything completely, just as God now knows me completely. 1 Corinthians 13:12 (New Living Translation)
Today, as I was reading my devotional, the word circuitous popped into my head. Although it is not a word that I have been using to describe my recent thoughts, I think it was certainly not a coincidence that it just appeared.
Following our daughter and her children to North Carolina was a big step - giving up the home we had watched being built and raised our children in. And a step that many will tell you not to take! "Don't follow your kids. You just don't know when they will up and move again! Then what are you going to do?" We'll, guess what? Yup, they moved back to California, but what a wonderful coincidence, we love it here! We love our house, our quiet neighborhood, new church, new friends, new sense of belonging.
And, the puzzling reflections in the mirror, are becoming less puzzling! As my life goes on, minute by minute, hour by hour, day by day, I see more clearly that my being here in North Carolina is not a coincidence. Why we moved here, why our daughter moved back to California, why she remarried and moved to Oregon, why my son and daughter-in-law tried to find a life here in North Carolina but ultimately moved back to the West Coast, where he did find a job, and had two beautiful little boys and bought a house - where we all are now, we arrived through a very circuitous way. And that way was directed by God, who in the process has woven our lives so perfectly together. Each of us becoming paths for each other to the road we are now on. Then our paths branch out to other people who become significant in our lives and intertwine in their lives, where we help lead them to some new discovery as they help us do the same - all in very circuitous ways. It's mind boggling! In spite of the obstacles, the pains, hurts and tragedies we have experience since we have been in North Carolina, here I have found joy!
While I cannot see into the future,
* 10,000 Reasons - Matt Redman
"whatever may pass and whatever lies before me . . . *"I know I will be able to discern God's hand in it!
* 10,000 Reasons - Matt Redman
Thursday, December 27, 2012
Grief in the Manger
I was saddened to see several friends announce the passing of loved ones during the Christmas holidays. This was the fourth Christmas since Mama died on December 22nd of 2009. That first Christmas there was no room in my heart for joy, for celebration, for the baby in the manger. In the manger there was only grief. I spent days wrapped in one of Mama's sweaters, her scent all that I had of her, numb and alone, for no matter who is there to offer love and support, each of us grieve alone. I was not alone in my grief though, as Thom had also recently lost his mother on the first of November. In our mourning, we sought comfort and found a church and a church family. Maybe that was the miracle of that Christmas, that inevitable as it was that our mothers would one day make their way home to Jesus, it would happen at this time while we were in this place to find this church and these people.
The following Christmas was pure escapism spent in Virginia. We took Sam and stayed at the home of a friend of my paternal cousin's who was away for the holiday. We immersed ourselves in family - Christmas Eve service, Christmas dinner at Tracy's with her husband, her two boys and their girlfriends, and my sister, Bonnie. We laughed, and reminisced, ate, opened gifts, and except for brief moments, the sadness of the previous year were avoided. Hearing that we were about to have snow, and a great deal of it, we went and bought a stash of food - chili, soup, hot chocolate and enjoyed the adventure of being snowed in by a blizzard. Sam loves the snow and wanted to go out every five minutes bringing laughter into our hearts. I thought, okay, I can deal with my loss and can enjoy Christmas.
So last year, we stayed home. We did a dinner out Christmas Eve with our grandson, Adrian and his wife to be, Morgan. It was a sweet time as it always is when we are with them. But Christmas day was gloomy, cold and lonely. Not only missing of our mothers, we missed our children and our grandchildren who were back in California. We vowed we would not spend Christmas at home alone ever again.
This year we made plans to go to Charleston. The Sunday before we left, we enjoyed a family dinner at the house with Adrian and Morgan and another grandson, Wyatt and his girlfriend, Jasmine. And, we got to talk with Diane in Oregon. It was a nice family celebration. On the 23rd, we had dinner with our friend, Ruth in Charleston. We spent Christmas Eve day at the old market place wishing and being wished a Merry Christmas by many, smiles and laughter decorating our hearts. We met a nice young couple at the reception at the Inn that night and chatted, enjoyed the decorations, the appetizers, wine and over all good cheer of people around us. I went to bed content, if not joyous. I talked to Mama as I lay in the dark. No tears, no guilt, just "I love you and I miss you. I wish you were here." Christmas Day was nice. I enjoyed Thom's company and our dinner at Blossom. We Skyped with Tom and Sandy and laughed at the excitement of the two little ones telling us what they got from Santa. But, it still wasn't the heartfelt celebration I wanted. It still wasn't a true celebration of the birth of Christ. But there is much less grief in the manger, much more faith - much less sadness, much more acceptance. All this a result of the last gift and legacy of our mothers - church, a church family, a renewed faith in our Creator and Savior. Maybe next year there will be abundant joy - quiet joy . . . and peace . . . and Baby Jesus back in the manger.
Blessed are they that mourn
For they shall be comforted.
Matthew 5:4
The following Christmas was pure escapism spent in Virginia. We took Sam and stayed at the home of a friend of my paternal cousin's who was away for the holiday. We immersed ourselves in family - Christmas Eve service, Christmas dinner at Tracy's with her husband, her two boys and their girlfriends, and my sister, Bonnie. We laughed, and reminisced, ate, opened gifts, and except for brief moments, the sadness of the previous year were avoided. Hearing that we were about to have snow, and a great deal of it, we went and bought a stash of food - chili, soup, hot chocolate and enjoyed the adventure of being snowed in by a blizzard. Sam loves the snow and wanted to go out every five minutes bringing laughter into our hearts. I thought, okay, I can deal with my loss and can enjoy Christmas.
So last year, we stayed home. We did a dinner out Christmas Eve with our grandson, Adrian and his wife to be, Morgan. It was a sweet time as it always is when we are with them. But Christmas day was gloomy, cold and lonely. Not only missing of our mothers, we missed our children and our grandchildren who were back in California. We vowed we would not spend Christmas at home alone ever again.
This year we made plans to go to Charleston. The Sunday before we left, we enjoyed a family dinner at the house with Adrian and Morgan and another grandson, Wyatt and his girlfriend, Jasmine. And, we got to talk with Diane in Oregon. It was a nice family celebration. On the 23rd, we had dinner with our friend, Ruth in Charleston. We spent Christmas Eve day at the old market place wishing and being wished a Merry Christmas by many, smiles and laughter decorating our hearts. We met a nice young couple at the reception at the Inn that night and chatted, enjoyed the decorations, the appetizers, wine and over all good cheer of people around us. I went to bed content, if not joyous. I talked to Mama as I lay in the dark. No tears, no guilt, just "I love you and I miss you. I wish you were here." Christmas Day was nice. I enjoyed Thom's company and our dinner at Blossom. We Skyped with Tom and Sandy and laughed at the excitement of the two little ones telling us what they got from Santa. But, it still wasn't the heartfelt celebration I wanted. It still wasn't a true celebration of the birth of Christ. But there is much less grief in the manger, much more faith - much less sadness, much more acceptance. All this a result of the last gift and legacy of our mothers - church, a church family, a renewed faith in our Creator and Savior. Maybe next year there will be abundant joy - quiet joy . . . and peace . . . and Baby Jesus back in the manger.
Blessed are they that mourn
For they shall be comforted.
Matthew 5:4
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