My Sister's Sons

Day 26 is a bittersweet day of thankfulness.  I smile as I reminisce about my nephews as young boys and I cry for the decisions they are making today.  When they were born, I wondered if I could possibly love my own children that I would have one day as much as I loved them.

My sister is the closest person I have on this earth apart from my husband and my love for her is carried down to her sons.  When her first son was born, he became my living baby doll.  I cuddled him, carried him and played with him.  He became my little shadow.

He loved to watch Lassie and would cry broken hearted when it was over.  He loved his cowboy hat and blanket, he loved looking at books, and he was afraid of car washes.  We sang "Smokie the Bear" together, read books and played cars.  He was mine.

Along came little brother who had red hair and had enormous brown eyes.  He was mine too because us redheads had like a private club that only redheads were a part of.  It seemed he arrived talking.  That little boy could talk the warts off a frog.  I remember babysitting one time when he was about 4 or 5 and there was a little stream behind the house.  The last words his mom said was, "don't let them near the creek."  Well, before she was hardly out of the driveway I heard big brother screaming at me to come around the house, and there was my little redhead, dripping wet.  He had fallen in the creek and proceeded to tell us all he saw sharks and alligators while he was down there. 

They used to come and stay with me during the summer when I was a teenager.  So many memories.  How aggravating they could be and at the same time so much fun.  I was on a women's softball team, so they'd go to practices and games with me and have the time of their lives.

Then I started my own family.  I had one son when my third nephew was born.  I had never seen anything so tiny.  He was mine, too, because he became an extension of my own family.  He was the middle child between my first two sons.  He was best friends with my second son and they couldn't get enough of each other.  They'd sit face to face and whisper and giggle for hours.  I've never seen a child that hated going to bed more than him.  I can still see him coming in the living room when he was supposed to be in bed with a grin on his face, asking for water, or something to eat, or what were we going to be doing the next day, or....on and on it would go. 

Now, they're grown men with their own families.  They lost their dad a couple of years ago and now are facing terminal illness with their mom, but have faced the adversities like real men.  They've stepped up to the plate.  They've made difficult decisions.  And I am proud to call them my nephews. 

They are my blood and they are my heart.  I love them so and am so thankful that God chose me to be their aunt.

I'm Thankful for Tarzan, aka Big Brother

Day 25, and I skipped a couple of days.  Not that I wasn't thankful, but that I had a houseful of kids and grandkids and no time to get by myself, even if I had wanted to.

I've been thinking alot about my brother for the past couple of days.  When we were kids, you didn't see one without the other. Some of our favorite things were playing in Papa's barn with our cousins, playing army, and playing Tarzan.

We played in the loft of Papa's barn, moving the bales of hay to create forts, ships, or mountain cabins.  Our imaginations had no end.  My brother, my cousins, and I started the "Barnyard Club" and began to save our pennies.  My brother was the president, because he was the only boy.  One of my cousins was the vice president because she was the oldest, and the other cousin was the treasurer.  I was just the "member" because I was the littlest and the youngest.  We saved our pennies until we had enough to buy our grandma a little wind-up alarm clock.  Grandma kept this little clock until she passed away and now I think the Vice President owns it.

I never had the luxury of playing dolls or house with my brother because...well...he was a boy and boys play army and fighting stuff.  He and I went through one of Papa's dried up cornfields annihilating the whole entire field of "enemy soldiers" in one afternoon.  The whole field lay flat after our victorious battle.  Unknown to us, our uncle had driven down the road, parked and watched the whole battle take place.  Uncle Houston chuckled constantly as he recounted the complete story to Papa.

And, of course, Tarzan was one of our favorites since we watched him kill giant crocodiles with a little knife, underwater, on our black and white tv.  Tarzan could swing through the trees on the vines, call a whole herd of elephants and lions with his yell, and wipeout a tribe of maneating cannibals in an afternoon.  He had a monkey, Cheetah, and a girlfriend, Jane.  Well, I couldn't very well be Jane since we were brother and sister, so he called me Sally.  I could never pick out my own name.  I always wanted a pretty name like Michelle, or Cindy, but no, I was Sally.  No exotic names like Jasmine...just Sally.

On and on we would play.  We did get into some mischief occasionally.  It seems I spent half of my childhood hearing him yell, "Run, Joy, run!"  It was always interesting.

When my hero brother came home one day with a different look on his face, I began to worry about him.  He just wanted to talk about some girl named Judy, whose eyes were as blue as the sky.  Yuck.  I didn't know her, but I definitely didn't like her.  But to my satisfaction, the next day he was back to the same brother I remembered.

I got my love of books when I was just a young girl.  Every Saturday morning, my brother and I pulled out the skateboards and skated about a mile to the library, just off Chapman Highway, looked around for awhile, checked out a few books, and read to our hearts content until the next Saturday.  Then we went through our routine again.

We were very poor growing up, so we ended up with people's hand me downs of everything from toys to clothes to bicycles, or rather, just one bicycle.  But that didn't slow us down.  I was either on the seat while he stood and peddled, or I was perched on the handle bars.  There we'd go...speeding down the hill, while the neighborhood dog was nipping at our heels, me squealing with my legs up in the air. 

We've been lost together, we've been in trouble together, and we've loved each other through it all.  We were still close all through school and high school.  He was the nosy, protective big brother and I was still his little sister he needed to protect.  As far as I can remember, we only had two arguments in our lifetime, and the only reason I can remember those is because we never fought with each other. 

We don't talk everyday now.  We don't see each other real often, but he'll always be my Tarzan, and I'll always be his Sally.

I love my brother with all my heart and am so thankful he's always been my buddy.

My Life

Day 22 is Thanksgiving Day.  Right now it's all still and quiet in my home.  There's the song, "I'll Be Home For Christmas" playing softly in the background, the sun is starting to peep through the trees in our woods, and my dogs are running around in the yard protecting us from all the birds and squirrels that may dare to enter their domain.

I've started preparing for the meal that we'll gather round the table and share this evening.  Soon the house will be filled with the spicy smells of pumpkin pies, the mouth watering aroma of a stuffed turkey in the oven, and the vegetables' odor mixing together as they simmer on the stove.

Soon, my husband will stir out of his warm nest of blankets and shuffle into the kitchen to help me in all the preparations, my son will stagger down the steps to plop on the couch until his eyes can focus.

After awhile we'll hear the dogs barking as the cars begin to approach the house.  My children will be coming with their children to visit Gram and Papa.  There'll be hugs, kisses and coats piling on the bed.  Marilyn will be saying, "Papa, Papa, Papa" and smiling that little shy smile of hers.  Aubrey will come in with her whole face a smile with her one big tooth shining brightly.

We'll drag out the toys for the babies and my clean house will become a clutter of baby dolls, toy dishes and rattles.  My grown sons will laze around in the living room, legs thrown over the arms of the chairs and couches watching football.  I will hear the conversations and laughter in their deep voices but it will be a replica of their silliness in their youth.  And I'll smile.

My daughters in law will join me in the kitchen to help, but usually we spend as much time talking and sampling the food as we do working.

I'll get calls from family and make calls to loved ones wishing everyone a happy Thanksgiving.

Finally, when the last dish is placed, we'll gather at the table, we'll bow our heads and thank God for his bountiful blessings, and we'll reminisce about the ones who used to sit at our table, but now their seats are empty.  We'll smile at the new little faces that fill those empty spots.  And life goes on.

I am so blessed and so thankful for how God has blessed us.  He has blessed us with a beautiful home, plenty of food, warmth, and with a family of individuals whose hearts beat as one.

Psalms 95:2  Let us come before his presence with thanksgiving, and make a joyful noise unto him with psalms.

Mom and Dad

Day 21 has me thinking of Mom and Daddy.  As dysfunctional as we were, I still love them and am thankful for them.

Mom and Daddy got divorced when I was three, so life was hard for Mom.  She worked to provide for us.  We didn't have much in the line of material things, but she provided us a warm home, clothes and food to eat.  I didn't know we were poor.  I was just a happy, carefree little girl who's days were filled with giggles and fun with my brother.

Mom worked hard at a wool mill so I didn't get to spend much time with her because of that, but mom always kept a clean house and always had us something to eat at dinner time.

When Mom remarried, things got easier for her and she was able to quit working.  She sent us off to school every morning with a hot breakfast in our tummies.  And mom always made sure we were good kids.  She was a disciplinarian.  I remember some switchings I would rather forget!

Mom took us to church every Sunday and that's where I got my foundation for my belief in my God and Saviour.  She sang beautifully and sang with a group in our little church.  She always dressed so pretty and I thought she was beautiful. 

Mom is in a nursing home now, and suffers from dementia, but when I'm able to go visit her, we always talk of the people I grew up with and the people that went to our church.  She loves to reminisce of that time in our lives, and even though she suffers from dementia, she remembers those happy days.  We talk and laugh at some of the things she remembers about our friends, and we get quiet and sad when we talk of the ones who have passed.  And I love to guide her into conversations about her childhood and what it was like to grow up in that day and time with my grandparents.  I could listen to those stories for hours.

Mom's had a rough life, as far as her happiness goes, because she has always suffered from depression, but that made her laughter and her gorgeous smile that much more special.  My mom, truly was, and still is, a  lovely woman.  Her hair has turned silver, and her smooth olive skin has some wrinkles now, but the beauty of her youth is still seen in her face.

My dad wasn't around much at all when we were growing up, so I didn't spend much time with him.  He always worked on construction sites running the large equipment, like bulldozers and huge trucks, so mom would take me and my brother to see him at these sites, occasionally.  It's funny how things impress on our young minds, but the smell of freshly dug dirt always made me think of my daddy.  I can still see him sitting on top of one of those large machines, grinning down at me.

One summer, as a teenager, I stayed with him and my stepmom for awhile.  We spent the whole time camping with my uncle and his family.  I got acquainted with one of my cousins during that time and I still think of her and the fun we had that summer.

When Daddy got older, my brother who lived with him and cared for him, decided Daddy should spend some time with me, so Daddy came to my house for the first time ever.  Daddy was starting to lose his sight, but he still loved the outdoors, so I would take him driving up in the woods and mountains.  He kept wanting to see some deer, so I began to pray to myself that God would let him get a glimpse of just one buck while he was here.  We were driving on one of the backroads, when all of a sudden, I had to stop the car.  The reason was that the biggest buck I've ever seen in my life, slowly walked out of the woods right in front of my truck.  It casually strolled across the road, and, as light as a feather, jumped the fence on Daddy's side of the road.  It walked up the hill and out of sight.  As I sat there with my jaw dropped open, I glanced over at Daddy and he had a big smile on his face.  Because of his vision, I wasn't sure if he saw it or not, so I asked him if he did.  Still grinning, he just said, "yea."

Daddy would sit on the end of my couch by the window everyday and just sit there looking out, until one day I asked him what he was thinking.  He said he would like to see it snow while he was there at my house. 

Well, West Virginians know that you don't ask for snow, because it doesn't just snow here, it comes blizzards!  He got what he asked for.  It snowed so hard it knocked the power out for three days.  Thanks, Dad.

When Daddy was nearing the end of his life, I had a sudden urge that I needed to go visit him at the hospital, so I called mom, who was living in WV at the time, and told her I was going to see Daddy the next morning.  Me and Mom left at six o clock the next morning and was on our way to Tennessee.

When we arrived in the ICU, my sister was there and Daddy wasn't looking good.  I called my brother and told him that he needed to get there as soon as possible.  A few minutes later  when my brother arrived, we all gathered around Daddy.  There we were.  A dysfuntional family that had survived it all.  We were together once more.

Even though they said Daddy wasn't conscious, my brother leaned over to Daddy's ear and quietly said, "It's okay, Daddy.  We're all here now and you can go."  And within just a few minutes, we all watched as Daddy crossed over into life hereafter. 

No, we didn't have the normal "Leave it to Beaver" kind of household.  We were spread out and living our own lives, but in the end, when it counts, we were together.

I thank God for my mom and my dad and for all the traits they instilled in me.  It made me, me.  I love them both, and am so thankful for them.

In Laws

Day 20 and I woke up thinking about my sweet mother and father in law.  There's not been any two people that were kinder to me than they were. I miss them so.

When I was fifteen, my mom and stepdad moved back to Tennessee, but I stayed where I was.  There were nights I'd get scared by myself, and my soon to be in laws never said a word when I'd call their son, my boyfriend, to come and get me.  They opened their home as well as their hearts to me.  They always treated me with kindness and love.

My father in law was so sweet and loving.  He absolutely loved children more than anyone I know, and he adored his grandchildren.  They say imitation is the greatest form of flattery, and as I would watch my little boy, put his arms behind his back, lean forward and follow his Papaw through the house looking like his little shadow, I knew this statement was true, because as much as Papaw loved my boys, they loved him as much.

Papaw would pick at them mercilessly.  Everytime they would walk by him sitting in his favorite recliner, he couldn't resist a pinch, or a joke, or just anything to pester.  Sometimes they would say, "Aw, Papaw, don't do that" and he would kind of giggle, pull them up on his lap, give them a hug and tell them he won't do it again, and before they could hardly get off his lap, he was at it again.  Papaw was sure there was no one like his grandchildren.

He would drive miles to watch them play sports, and I don't think he ever came without bringing them some of his homemade peanut butter fudge.

When we moved away so my husband could enter medical school, Papaw went out and bought the lumber and made my two boys bunk beds.  My boys loved those beds and thought there was nothing like them.

When Papaw got so ill that he had to go to the hospital that was pretty far away from home, I got the priviledge of being the first one to stay with him.  But no one knew that he would pass on before anyone else would be able to come.  I was with him on his last day here.  I sat in a chair beside his bed, crocheting a scarf for someone, and talking to him about the boys.  He wasn't able to talk at this time, but he would let me know when he was uncomfortable or he would just smile.  It was unexpected, and it was traumatizing when he passed, but I'm so glad I was there with him, I wouldn't have it any other way.  It was just one small thing I could do for him after all he had done for me. 

My mother in law treated me as a daughter.  When she would go shopping and buy her daughter something, she would buy me something.  She was so good to me.  She taught me how to cook, how to do laundry,  and how to "keep" house.  She helped me with my babies when I didn't have any idea what I was doing.

There are many memories of sitting round her kitchen table while she told us stories of her youth.  She loved to tell those stories and we loved to hear them.

She and I would laugh and giggle together at whatever caught our fancy.  One time there were some dogs in the neighborhood that kept coming in the yard, so we took it upon ourselves to get rid of the problem.  We were sitting in her living room and she said, "come on, Joy", so I followed her through the kitchen to the back porch where she had a huge bag of potatoes.  She grabbed some and I grabbed some and we would open the door long enough to pelt the dogs with the potatoes and then go back for more.  We laughed so hard that we could hardly throw the potatoes.  We got rid of the dogs and we made a memory for a lifetime.

My mother in law was not an emotional kind of woman (other than if you did something to one of hers, then the fire came out), she wasn't a woman who spouted off "I love you's" or other endearing words.  She just showed you how much she cared by her actions.

When my mother in law was in the hospital, I went to visit her before I was leaving to go to Tennessee.  We talked about old times and fun times.  Before I left, I leaned over to give her a hug, and with tears in my eyes I said, "You were always so good to me and I love you, Mary."  She looked into my eyes, and with as much emotion, she said, "Joy, you were always so good to me." 

She doesn't know it, but she made me so proud that day to be her daughter in law.  I didn't feel like I had done anything for her, but she made me feel like I had. I do miss her , I miss our talks, I miss her phone calls. 

They're in heaven now with my daughter and my two nieces.  Mamaw is telling them stories and Papaw is picking at them mercilessly, and someday we'll see them again.

I am so thankful that these two people were my children's grandparents, I'm so thankful that they were my in laws and I'm so thankful they shared their lives with me.

Deuteronomy 4:9  Only take heed to thyself, and keep thy soul diligently, lest thou forget the things thine eyes have seen, and lest they depart from thy heart all the days of thy life: but teach them thy sons, and thy sons' sons:

It's All Good

Day 19 and I'm so thankful for God's creation.  I live out in the country and have a few acres, so I get to look out in my fields, and almost daily, see deer grazing.  I've seen turkeys and I've seen bear.  Once I even saw a mountain lion charging across my field! *shiver*  I've had escaped goats, cows and horses on my property.  You just never know what you might see when you walk out my backdoor.

I love my lunatic dogs that guard my home and make me feel safe (even though I know in my heart that they would probably hide behind me if something happened).  They are as big as small polar bears, but they think they're chihuahuas.  Cleopatra loves to hug...she'll stick her big head between my arm and body and wait for me to hug her neck.  Jezebel has a big ole sad face and is a gentle giant.  They love it when it snows and they'll lay out in the middle of the back yard when the snow has been frozen hard and the wind is whipping through the yard.   They look like big, bear skin rugs thrown out in my yard when they are being lazy.

When springtime rolls around, the woods around me are in a flurry with birds chirping, the trees are budding, flowers are blooming and there's a sweet fragrance in the air.  Springtime is my favorite time of the year.  I love looking out at the mountains of green, speckled with the whites of wild dogwood and the bright purples of redbuds. 

In the summertime, I love hearing the lawnmowers buzzing in a distance, and smell the sweetness of cut grass.  I love taking our boat out on one of the many lakes in our beautiful state and enjoying the solitude it brings when we're up in a cove with no one around us but the mountains, the lake as still as glass, and the squirrels and birds rustling in the woods.

I love when, in the fall, the mountains look like a large quilt that God has put together, with all the different colors on the trees.  The sky seems larger and it seems bluer than any other time of the year.  I love the smell of the leaves as they fall and dry up for a new start next year.

And, even though I do not like cold weather, there is such beauty in the way that God blankets the earth in pure white, and it causes the animals to quiten and the noises to still.  There's something so cozy about looking out the window at trees dressed in white, while we're inside listening to the fire crackle and pop in the fireplace.

I'm so glad that I have a God that loves me and that loved me enought to make the earth beautiful and for my enjoyment.  I don't believe there was an accidental creation, no "bang" and everything was formed and functioning for centuries upon centuries.  I believe a loving God blessed us with creation to look at, to smell, to enjoy.

Psalms 104:24  O LORD how manifold are thy works!  in wisdom hast thou made them all: the earth is full of thy riches.

The Crud

Almost didn't make it for day 18 because I've been in bed, sick all day.  But even though I feel like someone ran over me with a truck and poured hot lava down my throat, I can still be thankful.

I am thankful that tomorrow, or maybe the next day, I'm going to be feeling better.  I know that whatever this crud is, it will be gone in a few days and I'll be back to normal.  I'm not facing some terminal illness like some of my family and loved ones are.  I'll be getting better, so hopefully, I can still be a blessing to those I love to help them through their own illnesses.

I'm thankful that my husband takes care of me when I'm sick and that he tries to crack some corny joke to get a smile out of me, even though I don't want to smile and I want to throw my pillow at him.

While laying in bed, half the day, I have been able to think about getting ready for Thanksgiving Day, for how God has blessed us so that we'll be able to have enough food that everyone will be stuffed several times over.

I'm thankful that my family will be here, and that I have a loving family that doesn't fuss and squabble over things.  Our day will be filled with laughter and silliness, and I love every goofy thing that goes on.

I'm looking forward to getting out of this bed and getting my home ready for all my company.  I'm looking forward to another day that I can give thanks for all that God has blessed me with.

Psalms 103:2 Bless the Lord, O my soul, and forget not all his benefits;