Grandma and Papa

Day 12 of thanksgiving moments is for my grandparents.  Grandma and Papa Tipton.  They have been on my mind so much lately.  They were humble people.  They lived in the same home most of their married lives, there were very few updates to the home over the years.

 I can remember when they finally got indoor plumbing.  It sure was nicer than going outside to the outhouse when nature called.  And I can remember taking a bath in the big, galvenized wash tub in the middle of the kitchen floor. Brrr.

Their heating unit was just a big coal/wood burning stove in the living room, so by the time you went through the kitchen to the bedroom, it got cooler and cooler, until you could almost see you breath in the middle of winter.

Grandma's beds were covered with the quilts she had made.  In the winter, there were several piled on top of another and they were so heavy that it made your toes curl up, but we would snuggle down under those quilts and get so snuggly warm.

I can't remember a time that I went to Grandma's that she didn't have a plate of homemade, buttermilk biscuits sitting on the stove.  As soon as we would arrive, me and my brother would dash out of the car, race to the kitchen, grab a biscuit, and out the old, screen door we'd go with a bang.

Grandma was a conniseur of breakfast.  She made biscuits, bacon, sausage, eggs, and oatmeal every morning we stayed there.  And then there'd be jars of jellies, apple butter and molasses that she'd make herself sitting all over the red checkered table cloth.  After we had eaten until we could pop, I'd wait for the finale...Papa would take his coffee, pour a little into a saucer, and slurp it.  That fascinated me.

My brother and I would head out the door as soon as breakfast was over, usually going to the barn, or sometimes to the woods with the Great Smoky Mountains as the backdrop.  We'd play through the fields, climb through barbed wire fence into the cow pasture, run around the pond (I remember my cousin and I taking this trip and getting chased around the pond by some cows!), and end up at the spring house to check it out to see if there were any snakes inside.  After playing all over the place, we'd hear Grandma shouting, "LUNCH TIME!"

My grandma was always busy, cleaning, canning, snapping beans and taking care of her flowers.  But, somewhere in her busy days, she'd let her hair down out of it's everpresent bun, and let me brush it.  My grandma had never had her hair cut in her lifetime, and it would flow over the arm of her little rocking chair almost to the floor.  It was all gray and silver, with some streaks of black that refused to let go of the beauty it held in her younger days.  Grandma had some Cherokee blood in her, so her coloring was beautiful and she had the proud nose of her ancestors which was passed onto my mama.  Grandma used to sit down with me and color pictures in my coloring book.  I kept those colorings for years and years, but somewhere along the way they were lost, but I'll always keep them in my heart.

My papa was the gentlest, yet grandest man I knew.  He never had a harsh word for anyone.  To me, he was a tall, gentle giant.  Papa was tall and lanky, with arms that hung a little too far passed his sleeves.  He had an everpresent hat on his head, that had been darkened by his sweat when he worked. 

Papa had a thinning head of hair, but it wouldn't stop me from creating all kinds of hairdos on his head.  He'd let me sit on the back of the couch with my legs draped over his shoulders, while I worked away with bobby pins, rubberbands, brushes and combs.  I always made him hold a mirror so he could admire my creations.

Papa was a man of integrity.  Papa was a man of God.  Papa preached all over Blount County, Tennessee, and was known as "Uncle Johnny" to everyone.  He never drove a car.  Anywhere he went, he walked, or sometimes a kindly soul would pick "Uncle Johnny" up and take him where he needed to go.  Papa started a church in Maryville, Tennessee known as Cades Cove Baptist Church.  It was named for all the people that lived in Cades Cove, but relocated because the government bought the Cove out.  The church had hardened wood benches and  two outhouses...one for females and one for males.  The ladies' outhouse was a three seater with a tiny seat for little ones. haha

I loved holding my papa's hand and walking to get the mail, then on to the local store.  He would always buy me candy canes to munch on, while we walked chatting away.  Papa never got irritated at all my little girl questions.

Those were happy days, and Grandma and Papa were such a force in my childhood.  They're no longer here, but I know someday I'm gonna sit down with them again and talk about the good ole days.

Proverbs 13:22  A good man leaveth an inheritance to his children's children

Luvy

Day 10 thanksgiving moment is for my last, but not least, granddaughter.  She's granddaughter #3 and she had a very difficult time arriving here. 

The doctors were trying to tell her it was time but she was going to do things her own way.  It was all so scary because when she finally arrived, she was breach and she wasn't ready, so they had to do a C on her mommy.

Her daddy had quite a fright because she tried to tell everyone she wasn't ready, so she wasn't breathing when they were introduced to each other, but after some quick work by the doctors, everything worked out.  She began letting everyone know, quite loudly I might add, that she was not happy about the situation.

It didn't take long for her to let everyone know who was in charge of everything now.  Mommy and daddy dragged themselves through sleepless nights and demanding days.  But who cared, she was absolutely beautiful.  She was our little angel here on earth.  She was my luvy.

She looks alot like her daddy, but she has a personality all her own.  She likes to sing.  She only has one note, but she sings it so well.  She has a little bear blanket, about the size of a wash cloth, that she covers her face with when it's time to shut out the world and go to that happy dreamland all little cherubs have. 

She's afraid of nothing.  She loves my dogs that are big enough to ride.  She smiles and tries her best to hug them.  She loves the swing in Gram's tree outside.  And she loves Gram.

When she sees me now, she grins so big I can see every tooth in her head...well, it's only two teeth, but if there were more, I could see them.  She starts breathing weird and reaching her arms out, and I can hardly wait to get her in my arms.  I grab her up and she gives me real hugs now, and slobbers all over my face with her little baby kisses.  After all that emotion, then she tries to act a little shy and lay her head down on my shoulder, all the while looking at me with those beautiful eyes, with eyelashes so long they touch her eyebrows.

She eats everything.  That includes non food items....strings, dust bunnies, bugs, leaves. I usually sweep and mop my floors twice before she comes over so there are no surprise snacks laying around. 

It took her no time to learn to crawl, and now she's everywhere.  We kept her one day and we had barriers all over the living room to try and contain her to one room.

She thinks she can walk.  She'll pull herself up to a table or something, let go, and is constantly surprised that she falls over.  She always gets this shocked look on her face like she's thinking, "I thought I could walk!"

When I call her mommy or daddy, I always have them put the phone on speaker so I can talk to her, and I'm pretty sure I can actually hear her smiling.  I can definitely hear the little grunts and noises as she tries to put Grammy in her mouth.

She's already a joy to our lives and I have to have my "luvy fix" quite often now.  She lives closer to Gram now, so I get to see her a lot more often, and I think we're both pretty happy about that situation.

She's like a cuddly ball of hugs, kisses and energy and I love her.  I'm so thankful that God blessed us with her.

Psalms 127:3  Lo, children are an heritage of the Lord

Boo

Day 9 of thanksgiving moments will be about my granddaughter #2.  She was quite the surprise to all of us.  Her mommy is half Philippino, so having a little Philippino baby doll was the plan.  Well, it was everyone's plan, but hers.

When our son walked out carrying the little bundle all wrapped up, he pulled the blanket back, and her cute, little Phillipino grandma yelled, "She's white!"

It was like the paparazzi had hit town, people crowding to see, cameras flashing, everyone gushing.  But she was having none of it, she was wailing and demanding that all this chaos stop this minute.

It really doesn't seem fair that she was such a good baby.  I mean, every parent should have to go through the sleepless nights and days of walking zombie-like throughout the day, but she was a princess, and she had to have her beauty sleep. 

She smiled at everyone who came into her presence.  She didn't care who you were, or why you were there, she would present you with one of her sweet smiles and you instantly became one of her most loyal subjects.

I had the privilege of keeping her for three or four days while her mommy and daddy went away for some together time.  I had a little Moses basket that she slept in and I would just take the basket and put it in bed with me so I could peep at her all through the night. (yes, I was doing the whole "put your hand near their face to make sure they're still breathing" thing)  One night I was laying there, and I heard her rustling around, so I peeped over the edge only to see her looking back at me with a big smile on that precious face.

She's all eyes and smiles...big, beautiful, blue eyes and a cute, dimpled smile.  She has Grammy's heart, and I do believe she's kinda partial to me.  We like to play together, read books, and munch on gold fish crackers.  She likes my lap and I like her on my lap.

Her favorite word has always been "boo."  It always gets a smile and now that she's older, she likes to say it and see the terrified response we have when we hear that little voice say, "boo."  She walks by, looks at us with a smile, says "boo" and we shutter and pretend we're a moment away from passing out from fright.

She is starting to use her imagination and it's so fun to watch.  Her favorite toy is an old butter bowl with a lid and a plastic spoon.  She stirs and stirs, then feeds her little baby doll. 

The last time Papa and I went to visit, we got out of the car and immediately heard squealing and some little voice yelling, "Pa-pa!"  We looked up to see her mommy holding her, looking out the glass door.  She could hardly be contained she was so excited. 

She loves dragging out all her toys for us to look at, crawling up on our laps looking at the same book over and over, and she especially loves the "I'm gonna get you" game.

I don't know what it is about these little souls that completely capture our hearts and our devotion, but I sure love my little Boo, and I'm so thankful she's in our lives.

Philippians 1:3  I thank my God upon every remembrance of you,

Mini Me

Day 8 of thanksgiving moments is dedicated to my little mini me, my first granddaughter.  She was a beauty when she was born, a headful of dark hair and huge brown eyes, and it was love at first sight.

When she and her family lived with us for a few months, she would get her Poppy's hat and balance it on her head while she walked around saying, "petty, petty."  Even she thought she was pretty.

She loves to dress up...me.  She loves to read...me.  She loves to wear bling...me. She loves to shop...me.   She loves cheerleading...used to be me.

I have a chest full of dress up clothes at my house, so when she came over with a couple of her friends, they ravaged the chest.  They had a runway show for me and they had broadway shows for me.  I've never heard such whispering as they prepared for their opening program.  There was talking, whispering and giggling, and then such drama.

We made pancakes, cookies and Christmas ornaments.  So there was lots of dishes and lots of glitter, and lots of fun.

In the summertime, when she stays with me, we get our favorite books, go out on the swing, and read.  And read.  And read.  My husband laughs at us because it's complete silence, but there we are enjoying what we do.

She loves clothes.  I love clothes.  She loves for me to get her clothes from one particular shop that specializes in young girls clothing and the reason she likes for me to shop there is because everything they have is covered in sparkles.  Jeans-sparkles.  T shirts-sparkles.  Skirts-sparkles.  Shoes-sparkles.  Why don't they have one of these stores for grandmas?

And talk!  Lordy, that girl can talk.  We talk and talk and talk.  We were up to see her brother, who is staying at a home for autistic children for awhile, and it's about a four hour drive.  She road home with me and it was four hours of non stop talking.  We talked about serious things, we giggled through silly things, and we talked about everyday things.  When we got home, we sat down in the living room and I asked her if she wanted me to find something on tv for her to watch, and she said, no, she just wanted to talk.  So, talk we did.

Cheerleading is her world, as it was mine back in the day. And, might I say, she is very good at it.  She expects everyone to keep their arms straight (no noodle arms) and expects them to take it as seriously as she does.  She's so tiny, so she's the one that is way up on top of the pyramids, and the one that is tossed everywhere.  She's quite dramatic, so when she's cheering, she knows exactly when to smile, when to toss that head, and when to give the little surprised cheerleading face.  She can do the hand springs and the back flips. Basically....she's awesome. 

I never knew how awesome she was until I went to her first competition.  They had to do a routine that lasted for several minutes and it was complete with cheers, tosses, flips and dance.  When I saw that teeny, little thing out there cheering her little heart out, keeping time and keeping everyone mesmerized, it brought tears to my eyes.  Yep.  There I was in the middle of a cheering competition, crying.  So, obviously, I guess she gets the drama from me too.

I hope me and my little mini me always have a good relationship and always can enjoy each other's company, even when we don't talk or when we talk each other's ears off, I pray it's always good.

I am so thankful for my granddaughter and I love her dearly.

Proverbs 17:6   Children's children are the crown of old men; and the glory of children are their fathers.

My Gardener

Day 7 of thanksgiving moments will dwell on my first grandchild, and only grandson.  It really seems weird, after having a housefull of boys all the time, that now I only have one grandson, but three granddaughters.  He's going to have a rough row to hoe, as they say.

My grandson, had the biggest blue eyes ever.  He was such a doll.  I nicknamed him "poot" because of...well...let's just say he made lots of noises.  Now, he expects me to call him that.  That's my greeting to him now.  He comes in, I smile and say, "Hey, Poot!", he grins, and then we hug.

We noticed that, as a baby, something just wasn't right.  He had all his fingers and toes, he had a beautiful little face, he had already cut several teeth by about 4 months which made that little smile adorable, but there was just something there that we couldn't quite put our finger on.

By the time he could walk, he was running.  I've never seen so much energy.  He would run and run and run until he was wet with sweat and exhausted, but he'd keep right on running.  Oh, to harness that energy and hook up an IV and let it drain into my veins!

He had a hard time trying to talk.  He had his own words and usually wouldn't try to say them the way he was supposed to.  He was perfectly fine to make up words and we had to just guess what they meant.  Still couldn't quite put our finger on what was different, but we were beginning to get some ideas.

When he was about four, he, his mommy, his daddy, and his baby sister came to live at Poppy's and Grammy's house for awhile because of hard times.  It was then, with the daily interactions that we were able to get a doctor's opinion, (sort of) about what the problem was.  It was that word we didn't want to hear and that we really didn't understand completely....autism.

When I thought "autism" I imagined a child sitting in one place all day in his own little world, not making any kind of communication with anyone.  But we soon found out that autism has many faces, but not only was he diagnosed with autism, but with attention deficit hyperactive disorder, or ADHD.

But autism isn't who he is.  He is a little boy that loves working on things, trying to fix them and make them work.  This includes lots of tape.  He loves making things for people.  I have a stepping stone of plaster with some paint and a big orange jewel on it.  I have a cement stone with WV written all over it because he knows Poppy loves WV football.  I have a little wooden sailboat that he put together and gave to me.  He's so generous and loving.

He never comes to my house that he doesn't bring a gift.  He makes his mommy go to Walmart and get Gram some cookies, or a flower that still sits on my porch table that moves when the sun hits it, or a plant of some kind.  He's so giving.

Speaking of plants.  He's a gardener.  Since about nine years of age, he has hoed his own little garden, and planted carrots, corn, beans, and whatever else he gets the mood to grow.  And grow he does.  His carrots were enormous!  He loves giving Grammy useful comments on why my plants aren't growing.  He's so smart.

He loves the outdoors.  He loves riding his bike, sleigh riding, and riding on Poppy's four wheeler with him.  He likes to fish, loves to catch animals in his cage(and let them go), and set up his motion camera to catch it all on camera.  He has a dog,kittens, some fish, frogs, ants and who knows what else is in that room.  He loves sleeping with stuffed animals.  He's so affectionate.

As he got older, his symptoms became more prominent.  He would have episodes of uncontrollable rage and his strength became increased during these episodes.  He would become violent and it could be directed at anyone, although he never did anything to me, but that's only because I wasn't around him as much during those times. 

I remember going to his house after one of those episodes to try and help.  He calmed down and I was talking to him.  He just looked up at me with those huge, beautiful blue eyes and said, "Grammy, what's wrong with me?"  That's one of those times when I believe you can actually feel the break in your heart.

The rages increased in intensity and frequency until his parents had to make the tortuous decision to send him somewhere in order to get the help he needed.  So, I volunteered to take him and his mom and dad to the place where he would be staying for quite awhile.  It was a four hour drive of breaking hearts, facing the unknown, and uncertainties.  The drive was kind of quiet with only moments of awkward conversation just trying to make him feel better about it all.

We got there, met with the workers, unpacked his luggage, bed clothes and toys, set up his new room and was ready to settle down for awhile to help him get use to everything and everyone.  After about five minutes, he looked at us and said, "You can go now."

We all just looked at each other with these dumb looks on our faces until we finally figured out he was ready to get on with this.  So, we left.  When we finally overcame the shock of it all, there were tears and pain and doubts.  It was a long way home that day.

He has been there about two years and will be coming home soon.  He's gotten to take trips, make friends, and graduated from elementary school.  It's not all okay now, and it never will be.  There will always be those episodes, those uncontrollable tendencies, and those times when he'll look at us with those big, beautiful eyes and wonder, "What's wrong with me?"  But despite all that, he'll still be generous, loving, giving, smart and affectionate, and I will always love him.

My Country

Day 6 of thanksgiving moments is reserved for my country.  Today is an important day for all Americans, our presidential election is taking place, and that is one big reason to be thankful.  We actually have a say.  We have a voice.  We have a vote.

I remember, as a young girl, sitting in the backseat of our car as we rode down the road on a warm summer's night.  Since air conditioned cars were practically unheard of (yes, I'm that old), I would roll down the window, hang my head out and sing "America, America" to the top of my lungs.  I was a funny kind of kid, but I thought it was the most beautiful song, so I would sing those words and it would make me tear up.

I'm proud that our country was founded on Godly principles.  I'm proud that our forefathers were wise, Godly men that established our laws and our constitution to live by.  I'm proud that we were a new, very small country, who stood up to dictatorship and oppression, took up our arms, fought, and defeated our oppressors and became the greatest nation on earth.  I'm proud to be an American.

I've had the opportunity, a few times, to visit outside the United States, and after visiting, I was so glad that I was an American.  For something even so simple as driving laws, I was amazed.  It was a "take your life into your own hands" kind of place.  I know that we do the same thing here, but I mean you actually were in harm's way every time you got in a car!  When two obvious lanes became three and four lanes at the driver's discretion, it was crazy, not to mention scary!  Where there are no laws, there is chaos.  No greater example than to see nuts behind a wheel of a car with no rules.

There are so many things in America, right now, that I don't agree with; many things I wasn't raised to embrace have become the norm; things that were wrong are now right; laws that decide what you can do with your own property, and so on.  If you know me, you know my conservative views.  If you don't know me, you'll soon see my conservative views.  And the great thing about all of this is, I can vote.  I can vote to change things.  I can vote to keep things the same.  I can vote and it means something.  I can vote.

It's all so overwhelming, sometimes but in spite of it all, there are still some great reasons to be proud of our country.  I love the fact that I can get in my car on Sunday morning, with my family and go to my church to worship my God.  I love that I had a choice that I could go to school and college even though I'm a female.  I love that I can go to the store and buy clothes (and shoes...many, many shoes) of any color and any style just because I like them.  I love that I can go to the library, or go online and get any book that I want to read.  And I love that I can write and speak on any topic I choose.

It's called FREEDOM.  This is what America is...."land of the free" and definitely, "home of the brave".  This is my home.  This is my heritage.  This is my America.

GOD BLESS AMERICA

Psalms 33:12  Blessed is the nation whose God is the Lord; and the people whom he hath chosen for his own inheritance.

Daughter

Day 5 of thanksgiving moments begins with daughter #2.  Many years ago, after three rowdy little boys, my husband and I began talking about a situation going on in our minds and hearts.  There were and are, so many kids out there that don't have much of a chance.  Many don't have a mom or a dad, or maybe don't have either, and it began to bear on our minds.

There was such a young girl at our church.  She was a girl that came to church on one of the buses and was very faithful in her attendance.  So we began to take an interest in her, until finally we asked her if she would like to come and live with us.  From that moment on, she was ours.

She came to live with us when she was fifteen years old, had some health issues, and had many emotional needs, but she was ours.  Yep, we picked her and she picked us, so that was the beginning of our relationship.

I'm sorry I don't have any childhood memories to speak of or any childhood pictures, but we began making memories together as soon as she appeared on our doorstep. 

As I said, she was fifteen, so we immediately inherited teenage hormones and attitude and she inherited three spunky brothers.  So, to say the least, we all had to go through some adjustments. 

I had so much fun buying party dresses, fixing hair, putting on makeup and getting ready for dates.  She had never experienced it and neither had I, so we were learning together.  We went through weird hairdos, awkward boy moments, and braces.

As a young child, her lower jaw didn't grow as it should and we had to have some surgery done for that.  It was such a horrible time and I felt so sorry for her.  The doctors had to saw her lower jaw into, pull it forward and stabilize it with screws, then they had to wire her mouth shut for six, very long weeks.  They left a small place to put a straw in that she could drink through for those six weeks.  But, afterwards, when the wires were removed and she had worn braces for two, painful years, she had the biggest, most beautiful smile!  Oh, my, what a difference!    I know it was one of the roughest things to go through as a teenager, but it was so worth it.

Now, not only did she have this thick, long mane of shiny chestnut colored hair, she had a beautiful smile.  It didn't take long for a young man to take notice.

She met him, fell in love, and began planning a wedding.  She's just a tiny, little thing, so when she walked down the aisle with a dress on that was just ruffles from the waist down, she looked like a mix of something from Gone With The Wind and a Barbie princess doll.

We know how to push each other's buttons, my daughter and me, (as do most mothers and daughters) and we know when to put it all aside and come together. 

She has given us two beautiful grandchildren; a little girl, and a little boy that suffers from autism. I've watched her struggle, battle, fight for help, cry, and sometimes feel hopeless, but one thing I have not seen from her is quitting.  When most people give up when simple problems come along, she keeps going.  When most people face situations that are minor, she climbs obstacles that seem insurmountable.
Our daughter is a fighter.  Our daughter refuses to quit.  Our daughter is quite a gal.

I hope that she always knows that she is our family, she is part of us, she is ours and we love her.