Don’t Blink

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family

We were high school sweethearts. He went to Clemson. I went to “that other school”. More scholarships were offered to me by them. Not my first choice but the best choice.
Daddy died when I was 14; we weren’t rich. About 6 weeks before he died, we had a telephone and a hot water heater installed. Before that, we used our uncle’s phone. He lived next door with his wife and 13 children. We bathed in about an Inch of warm water that had been heated in 2 dishpans and then quickly taken to and poured in the bathtub. We were always clean. Our clothes were always clean because mama washed them in the sink and hung them outside to dry. After daddy died we got a washing machine and eventually a dryer but Mama preferred the clothesline. Mama didn’t drive so when Daddy died I started driving. No permit yet. Certainly no drivers license. We lived in a small town, 2 red lights, knew most everyone, related to many. People knew. It was understood that I would only drive to the church and to town, both no more than a mile from our house. People knew and said nothing. They understood.

Fast forward a few years. Both of us graduate, get married and Rob goes into the Air Force. Oh boy, we were going to get to travel! I would finally get to fly on an airplane! Moving across the country to bases in Colorado and Nevada were exciting for us but man, what a culture shock! Where was my village, my people? My new village was the 2 of us, me and Rob. We learned rather quickly that we could figure things out together or be miserable. So glad we chose wisely.

Fast forward again. We celebrated our 50th wedding anniversary last May. Has it been a walk in the park? Ha! Along the way we had many “rainy days” but we always managed to see rainbows in the end. Those “rainy days” made us stronger as a couple; more determined to always do what was right; didn’t matter what other people thought. I’m glad we only had us at that time.

During our 50 years of marriage, God gave us 2 beautiful children, a daughter and a son. We weren’t the perfect parents, we didn’t have all of the answers but we sure tried. We tried to teach them about good values, morals, the importance of education, making and keeping commitments and the importance of always doing the right thing. We taught them to respect everyone, not just a particular group. They began going to church when they were 6 weeks old. Church has always been an important part of our life. We need to be fed spiritually, especially now. We have to keep our focus on living the life that God has put before us. It would be so easy to make excuses and stray from the very foundation that was built for us and for generations to come. Our family understands that. Our daughter who is now an angel, watches over us and I’m sure she nudges us more than one would think.

We love to travel. We loved making memories with our children that would stay with them long after any money was gone. We travelled internationally several times with our children. Visited 13 countries in Europe; was honored to be able to meet and visit with the clan chieftain of Clan Cameron, my ancestral family. He graciously invited us in to our ancestral home, Achnacarry, which is a castle near Fort William in the Highlands of Scotland. He shared some stories of our ancestors leading up to when some of the family boarded a ship for America. All of us learned more about my family from him that day than we would have ever known otherwise. We took them on mission trips to Ecuador and Honduras. Life-changing experiences for them. Precious memories.

We visited as many states as we could and they always knew it would be educational, at least in part. I always had books, travel guides, itineraries with me. There were no cell phones. No Google or Alexa or Siri..just me and my plethora of information coupled with my willingness to walk up to strangers and ask questions. You will never know if you don’t ask.🙂

With all of our travels before and after our children moved away, we never visited NYC. We talked about it several times but would always put it off “until later”. Watching the lighting of the Rockefeller Christmas tree tonight has always been something I wanted to do in person; on my bucket list along with Pops Goes the Fourth in Boston. I guess on my bucket list they will remain, however, and it makes me a little sad. Already this week we have had 4 doctor visits, labs, X-rays and that coupled with Rob’s mobility issues now, my optimism isn’t as bright as it once was. It’s gotten a little dimmer these days.
You see, it seems like only yesterday we were planning new adventures for our family; making memories was important. Our 2 precious grandsons came along and we began making plans for lots of adventures with them. We want them to have lots of memories with Namma and Papa. We continue to make plans but something happened along the way. We blinked!😳

Don’t blink!

Perfect Days

In the darkness of night I awoke to the muffled sounds of the ocean waves. Your laughter and the laughter of your cousins overpowered that magnificent force. The brilliance of the sun on that hot, summer day paled in comparison to your smile when you turned around. You were in your happy place as you were sitting at the water’s edge with your cousins. At that moment all was right with the world because family was all around. The day was simply perfect… I miss those days but most of all, I miss you, Jennifer. You helped to make those days perfect. 😪💔

I Can’t but I Will…

This entry was written for a friend last night whose son was deployed earlier in the day for locations unknown.

Kim, my heart hurts for you. Being a mom is the most rewarding yet most difficult job there is. Our children come to us with no instructions so we must rely on our instincts and the wisdom of our own moms and others to nurture and teach our children. I learned early on that I would never be a perfect mom but I knew that I was going to do my best each and every day. Prayer and listening to that still, small voice also guided me. You are a good mom and your children are blessed to be able to call you their mom.

I wish that I could tell you that you shouldn’t worry but I can’t. I wish that I could tell you that time will pass quickly and he will be home before you know it but I can’t. I wish that I could take the fear of the unknown away but I can’t.

What I can do, however, is promise you that if you ever need to talk, cry, scream or whatever, I am just a phone call away and I will be there for you. What I can do is remind you how much you are loved by so many even when you don’t love yourself. One of Jennifer’s favorite songs was “His Eye Is On The Sparrow”. She loved the line, “His eye is on the sparrow and I know He watches me”. Those words are so true. I believe with all of my heart that God is watching over all of us. Finally, for now, what I can do is promise you that both of you will be in my daily prayers and I will pray for you to find peace, comfort and strength in the days to come.

Lord, in your mercy, hear our prayer.

**To all military moms and families, thank you for the service and the sacrifices that your brave sons and daughters are making each day so that we can continue to enjoy our freedom. May they all stay safe and soon return home to their families.

The Little Redheaded Girl

A decade ago I met her when she came into the office and sat down beside me. She seemed to be very focused on her task at hand so any conversation during that initial meeting was limited. I could tell that she was not going to stop what she was doing to engage in idle chitchat. Subsequent meetings were pretty much the same…come in, sit down, turn on laptop, click away at the keys, fax a few things and out the door she would go.

Over time I was able to get her to talk a little bit more but even that was hit or miss. Why did she have to be so focused? Didn’t she know that I was not going to stay quiet? I had things to talk about, questions to ask, opinions were sought, including hers. Look up from the dang laptop and breathe three big cleansing breaths! I figured that would give me an opportunity to get her attention for a minute at least. It didn’t. Even though she was looking at me and smiling, I could tell that she was not really listening. She was thinking about how much work she had to do before she could go home. She wasn’t about to take her work home with her because as I eventually learned, she wasn’t going to work for free. It was then that I cringed and thought about the times that I had waited until I got home to complete everything and by doing that, I had “worked for free”. 😩. The little redheaded girl had a point and I tried to follow her lead. It usually didn’t turn out the way I wanted. I’m sure it wasn’t because I couldn’t keep my mouth shut.🙂

Our jobs were stressful. People depended on us. We became part of their family. It was impossible not to let our professional lives spill over into our personal lives. Our cell phones were attached to our ears; the calls were many and the time of day or night didn’t seem to matter. We were their lifeline, their hope and their reassurance. As much as we loved what we did, burnout was setting in. Something had to change.

On one particular fall day, I was leaving a patient’s home when my phone rang. It startled me because I was so far out in the country and cell phone towers were not plentiful out there. I mean, you just about had to pump in sunshine; I was out in the sticks! In fact, I did have to drive up the road just a little bit so that the static would subside and the garbled voice would become clear. Quite out of the blue, I was being asked to come in to be interviewed for the assistant director of nursing position at a healthcare facility. Wow! We talked on the phone for a while and plans were made to continue the conversation in the office. I continued making my visits that day but I had one lingering question in the back of my mind. I had been in middle management for a number of years and it just about broke me. Did I want to do that again? I did not but I had someone in mind. The little redheaded girl would be perfect in that position. I called the facility, expressed my appreciation for being contacted and told the director of nursing that I knew just the right person for the job and it wasn’t me. It was the little redheaded girl.

Fast forward a couple of weeks. She got the job; I left home health and that was that. Only it wasn’t. The job that I had taken after leaving home health didn’t work out like I thought it would. I called the little redheaded girl and told her that my job was not working out and to keep her ears open for any available positions. Less than a month later, we were working together again, It was great. I had missed her.

We worked together for about seven years. I was in management again, reporting to her. It felt more like a mother-daughter team instead of a manager/assistant director of nursing team. I was the mother,🙂 During that time, she became the director of nursing and a friend of ours was hired to be the assistant director of nursing. We were a team for sure now and I was still the mother. We had some good times and some not so good times but through it all, we had each other.

I retired three months ago. Having been a nurse since 1973, it was time. The trio became a duet. They continued to work in healthcare and I began baking more bread. Our days were quite different. Changes were being made. We all began to focus on other things and as I said earlier in this post, the little redheaded girl could focus! Better than most I would say.

Last Friday was her last day. She will still be in healthcare only now it will be working with young people, not geriatrics. She will do a great job and I am excited for her. Watch out you high school students. She is little but that red hair…don’t mess with her or you may regret it! Oh, and she is from Texas and you don’t mess with them either.

The trio that became a duet is now a solo. Gina, you keep everyone straight and in line. If anyone can do it, you can. The 506 is always open if you need to get away for a bit. 🧡

Enjoy this new chapter in your life. You will be great. No more late night phone calls or texts. No more worrying about staffing ratios…Little redheaded girl, now you truly are back in high school.😉

Go get ‘em, Shauna. ❤️

Change Begins With You

A comment, a look, not hearing or understanding what was said…these are examples of things that can create friction or misunderstanding among individuals. It happens and often the person most affected has no clue other than his/her observations that something has “changed”…but what and more importantly, why?

Passing judgement on someone, pointing fingers, making false accusations, jumping to conclusions, asking everyone but the one who should be asked can all lead to hurt feelings and confusion. Friendships, work environments, are strained and sometimes damaged beyond repair. The mental stress that is created can weigh heavily on the mind and is hard to forget; sometimes impossible to forget. Actions or lack of and most importantly the lack of communication can cause irreparable damage and that is so unfortunate because it can be avoided.

The environment in which we live has become so caustic. So many people seem to be in a defense mode much of the time trying to protect their turf, their space, their feelings of self-worth. What happened to focusing on the problem at hand and working together to solve the problem? Where has the trust gone? Have we become an “it’s all about me” society?

Colleagues working together for a common cause can achieve so much. Colleagues who are suspicious of others with whom they work can achieve very little. It is so easy to jump to conclusions or misinterpret what an individual said or didn’t say, did or didn’t do. The saga begins and often it is one-sided because the individual is clueless as to what is happening. How sad this is when adults forget that they are adults and begin acting like they are in middle school. Sides are taken, gossip becomes rampant and trust is no more.

We are all on this ride together. It is not about color. It is not about religion or sexual orientation. As individuals we should all try to work together. The world is becoming so complex and unpredictable. Attitudes need to change. Trust needs to be renewed. Respect for others and not being so harsh or quick to judge needs to relearned. Communication has to be a priority and this applies to all levels including in the homes, the workplace, among friends and acquaintances, etc.

We can make a difference. We can be the light that others want to follow. It has to begin somewhere so why not let it begin with YOU?

Code Name – Butch

Sometimes you just can’t reference people by their given names and you can draw your own conclusions about that.  Nothing is wrong with that concept; sometimes names need to be changed to protect the innocent. 😉

I first met Butch several years ago. Immediately impressed with Butch’s sense of humor, smile, obvious love of life and all things orange, I knew that we would be friends for a long time.  Our visits have been scattered but rest assured there was always laughter with a little critiquing about food, weather, opinions, etc.  Other obligations meant that these visits usually were brief but a lot can be said in a short amount of time.

Fast forward a little and laughter and smiles becomes tears and concern. Anxiety and worry have tried to settle in but family and friends are trying to keep anxiety and worry at bay. Not going to bring Butch down. Too many prayer warriors; so much love. Those bothers can just move on out of here. Not gonna have it if at all possible.

Next Saturday will be filled with anticipation and hope. Spirits will be high, friends and family will gather around in support of their team. Old friendships will be rekindled and acquaintances will become friends. Tailgates become feasts, stories are told and memories are made.  Working together, that which could be challenging becomes easy and much can be accomplished.

This type of comaraderie is evident in so many situations.  People come together to help others because they care. That is what friends and family do…it isn’t necessary to ask or wish…it just comes naturally, sometimes when least expected. It happens because people care. Butch, the militia is coming together to help so just be gracious and say thank you. 🙂

Now go get ‘em!

What If…

What if you or someone you loved or truly cared about was suddenly faced with life-changing events? What would you do?

What if someone you loved or truly cared about called you and it was obvious that they needed to talk? What would you say?

What if that same person was frightened? How would you comfort them?

You tell them that if they ever need anything, all they have to do is ask. What if they did ask? Did you really mean those words? Would you be too busy with your own life to help them?

What if you do nothing, offer no support, no comforting words or a simple touch of the hand to show that you care? How would you feel days, months, years from now when that memory suddenly comes to mind?

What if you had little to offer but for a few dollars? Would you give it to help someone or would you save it to buy something for yourself? In the Bible, the widow’s mite was more meaningful than the treasures that were being given by the wealthy. She gave all she had, literally. I have no doubt that she was blessed beyond measure because of her selfless sacrifice.

Even the smallest gift is valuable. The smallest gift may be just the amount that is needed to start a new program, continue research, help a patient, etc…No gift is too small.

Please take a moment out of your busy day or better yet, as soon as you finish reading this blog, and make a donation to the ALS Association. Lou Gehrig’s Disease is a progressive neurological disease for which there is no cure – yet. Your donation may just be what it takes to tip the scales to success! Go to this ALS site: http://web.alsa.org/goto/wsexton and make a donation. The monies will stay in this area and will help families while research continues. All “likes” to the blogs are appreciated but “likes” don’t offer monetary assistance, but you already know that…

I pray to God that you and your loved ones never have to hear the words, “You have ALS.” If you ever do hear those words, I know that you would be educating everyone that you knew about the disease, the progression and the promises that research is so close to making a reality.

Think about it and donate today. Join the team to walk in the ALS walk in October in Greenville, SC. You will feel so good knowing that you are helping someone who very well could be a total stranger, but in the eyes of Christ, that person is your brother or sister. That total stranger could become one of your best friends.

Our brother was diagnosed with ALS 3 weeks ago. He and other ALS patients need your support through donations and prayers.

Biscuits and Gravy

For some people their memory is going out into the woods to find the perfect cedar tree. I have that memory. I also remember hearing Christmas music being played over the speakers from the Western Auto. I remember standing along Main Street waiting on the Christmas parade to begin. It never started on time. But the street vendors were always there early, walking up and down the street with their balloons, their trinkets, the stuffed animals, the cotton candy…everyone seemed to always be in a festive mood. There was laughter and love, but we kids were impatient to see Santa. Off in the distance we would hear a siren and we would get so excited. We knew Santa was in town. We knew that we would see him soon. Dr. Bill Pearson often led the parade, riding his beautiful horse, but that was not what we kids were waiting on. The end of the parade was what we were eagerly anticipating. The parades seemed a lot longer in those days…

Christmas morning was a more quiet time back then. Not commercialized like it is today. Santa always put oranges, apples and pecans in my stocking. I don’t remember ever having anything else in my stocking but surely there must have been some candy. I remember that my stocking had a Santa face at the top. I remember because ~65 years later I still hang that stocking. There are no apples, oranges or pecans in it on Christmas morning anymore but it doesn’t matter. The stocking is filled now with precious childhood memories and for that, I am very grateful.

Daddy loved peppermint sticks and Mama would always buy a box of peppermint sticks at Christmastime. He also loved chocolate covered cherries and so did I. Mama always bought a box of them, too. Our daughter, upon hearing about my love for chocolate covered cherries, would always be sure that I received a box of them at Christmastime. They were for me and I would not share. Never felt guilty, either; I enjoyed every one of them. When she passed in 2015, chocolate covered cherries never tasted the same again. I bought a box just before Christmas but there was nothing special about them because they had not come from her. The memories of her bringing a box to me will sustain me from now on. It wasn’t because the taste had changed so much since she passed; the love was missing.

Daddy loved biscuits and gravy. Homemade biscuits were not uncommon; Mama made them every morning for breakfast but Christmas morning was special. On Christmas morning, Mama would fry fatback and make fatback gravy to have with our biscuits. Fatback was a staple in Mama’s kitchen; there was no such thing as canola oil back then. Fatback was used to season so many vegetables and man, those green beans and creamed corn tasted so good!

The tradition of that delicious Christmas morning breakfast continues to this day. It is expected. In fact, our son called me a couple of weeks ago to remind me that he was looking forward to gravy and biscuits on Christmas morning. He wasn’t disappointed. On Christmas morning I took everything to his house that I needed to make biscuits and gravy. He and his family have their own Christmas breakfast traditions now but I am so happy that this has become part of their tradition. Mama would be so happy.

Memories become more precious with time. Keeping traditions is so important because they often have been passed down from one generation to the next and serve as a reminder of who we are and where we came from. Starting new traditions and keeping them year after year is also important for the next generation. Keep building on them.

Jane

We celebrated a life well lived yesterday. My sister-in-law, Jane, won her battle and is now cancer free and is catching up with Jennifer and Wes. I imagine God has his hands full with the 3 of them now, and I wonder if they will ever get out of “time out”.

Jane had a sense of humor, sometimes even a bit sarcastic, but laughter and love were always guaranteed in her presence. One had no choice but to have a good time around her. She wanted everyone to be adventurous and enjoy the moment. Skydiving, hot air balloon ride, parasailing, climbing the Mayan ruins…she did them all but there were so many adventures yet to experience. Her bucket list was very long and she tried to get as many things as possible checked off that list. She loved life and embraced every adventure with anticipation, excitement and wonder, much like a child on Christmas Eve.

She loved animals, snakes and critters of all kinds but she loved people even more. She loved you no matter what. Bumps, bruises, wrinkles…it didn’t matter to her. Lifestyle, beliefs, age, economic status, social status…none of this was important to her. She was genuinely interested in everyone whose path she crossed. She always looked for the good in people and when realized, she would nurture that, often in a quiet, unassuming manner. She could lift you up when you were down and she could make you feel like you were the most important person with just a comment or a smile.With Jane, what you saw was what you got. There was no pretense with her.

Jane had a servant’s heart and her faith was unshakeable. When she received that grim diagnosis last May there was no pity party for her. She knew that there was a plan already in place for her and had been since the day of her birth. She never got angry about her diagnosis because she knew that God would be with her every step of the way. She accepted her diagnosis with grace and vowed to make the most of the time that she had left. She opted to try chemotherapy even though she knew the side effects would be brutal. She wanted to be here for her daughters, her granddaughters and her beloved husband of 54 years, Boyd. She wanted to make more memories with them. She wanted one more Christmas with them. She wasn’t afraid to die because she knew where she was going but she worried about those who would be left behind. In typical Jane fashion, her focus was never on her but was on the ones she loved the most.

Always the protector, she worried about her family who had become her caregivers. She was concerned that they would soon be overcome with exhaustion because her weakness prevented her from participating in her own care. They had to do it all. She thought that a week of respite care in the hospice house would be beneficial to everyone. She wanted them to be able to get some much needed rest and she needed to be able to rest without worrying about being a burden to her caregivers.

I believe that Jane knew her days on earth were coming to an end. I believe that she wanted to protect her family. I believe that she didn’t want all of the wonderful memories that were made at their house to be overshadowed by her last breath being taken in the house that she and Boyd had made into a home. So, in typical Jane fashion, she chose respite care, not for her sake but for the sake of her beloved family. She was to be at the hospice house for 5 days and then return home. She was at the hospice house for 5 days as was the plan but she didn’t return to the home that she and Boyd had built. On the 5th day, God called her to her heavenly home. He knew she was tired. He knew that her work on earth was done. She had indeed fought the good fight and she had won the race. She was suffering no more.

Going forward into life’s uncharted waters without Jane will be difficult not only for her family but also for those who loved her. Her smile, her laugh, her zest for life and her unwavering faith are just a few things that defined Jane. I am sure that many lives have been enriched because of the kindness and compassion that she so easily shared. Her love for others will never be forgotten and I believe that she was a perfect example of the words expressed in the hymn, “They’ll Know We Are Christians By Our Love”.
She lived the words found in Philippians 4:6-9…”Do not be anxious about anything, but in every situation, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God…Whatever you have learned or received or heard from me, or seen in me, put it into practice. And the God of peace will be with you.”

Until we meet again, Jane, you will live on in our hearts and in our memories. We love you and thank God for you and the life you lived so well. ❤️

Through Their Eyes I Now Understand

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family

Life can be so hectic and at times, our lives can seem almost robotic. We go to work, come home, have dinner, spend a little time with family, go to bed and repeat the next day. The daily routines can be exhausting and overwhelming. Weekends are not much better. “There are not enough hours in the day” is a phrase that is very familiar to me. Trying to be the best at everything is so stressful and there are times when we can’t see the forest for the trees. Because of the inability or the hesitation to take a step back, take a deep breath and refocus, life can become a blur if not careful.

I have often marveled at Caitlin’s excitement when she would speak so lovingly, almost reverently, about Higgins. Her eyes would sparkle when she would share stories of her many summers there. Stories about the dinner bell, the dining hall, the grilled cheese sandwiches and tomato soup…sitting at the table with her beloved grandparents, being ever mindful of remembering table manners and not leaving the table until being excused. Listening to her grandpa tell stories about life and living and respect. Knowing when to just listen and absorb as much as possible from family members and treasured friends. Spending hours upon hours with friends who were more like family, being part of and experiencing the magic of Lakeside…times like these helped to shape her into the person she is today. Her memories are priceless.

I thought that I understood all of this fairly well, because I, too, have a happy place.The only place that I can truly relax, forget what day it is, and shut my mind off, is when I am sitting on the beach. Watching and listening to the rhythm of the waves, the pelicans, the laughter of children playing in the ocean or making sand castles, contemplating among other profound things, the percentage of water that actually makes it back out beyond the sand bars…the beach is my happy place.

It became apparent to me this week that I only thought that I understood her love of Higgins. It has been through the eyes and the excitement of our grandsons that I have finally realized that yes, Higgins is a special, magical place; a place where everyone regardless of age, can unwind and just be in the moment. The pictures and the videos that I have seen this week needed no explanations. Pure joy radiated from their faces and there was laughter and big smiles in every picture. It is a place where they could play without fear and explore the camp knowing that someone would always be nearby if needed. Learning about their environment and smelling the crisp, clean air, experiencing the stillness of the woods, getting to know their cousins better and making new friends…no amount of sand, waves or the occasional alligator can compare to what they have been introduced to at Higgins. The environments are totally different but each are special places where memories are made and traditions continue.

I know that the boys will be talking about this week for days and weeks to come and I can’t wait to hear about all of their adventures. So thankful for Caitlin’s memories and thankful that our grandsons are now making precious memories with their Higgins family.🌲🌲❤️❤️

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The Magic of Higgins

As you may have read in my last post, Higgins Lake in Michigan is a very special place for our son and his family. He was smitten by Higgins the first time he ever visited there.

I wondered if he would like vacationing up north because our family tradition had always been a week at the beach in a big house and with up to 30+ people sharing the house. My husband is one of 6 boys and they loved getting together. For years each brother and his family would come down; we would have a great time sitting on the beach, picnics on the beach, card games, bocce ball, croquet…a fun time would be had by all. We even went deep sea fishing one year and of course, my team won. I was practically raised with a fishing pole in my hand; my husband and his brothers grew up playing golf. Churning various flavors of ice cream throughout the week and waiting on the boiled peanuts to be ready (I have never learned when they are done), the brothers would stand around the pot and drink beer as they watched the peanuts boil. It has been said that the peanuts were ready when the beer ran out…but that was a lot of beer!😊 The 6 brothers would congregate under a beach tent and spend most of the day there. The same stories were told and the same ”crying in your beer” songs were sung year after year. The brothers would talk about movies; most were able to recite movie lines verbatim, and they would laugh at the silliest things. These grown men who shared a lifetime of memories from their childhood loved each other fiercely and that remains true to this day even though one brother now lives in Heaven. He is missed so much.

The text that our son sent me this evening was so eloquent that I wanted to share his thoughts about our traditional family beach trips and Caitlin’s traditional family summers in Higgins. My eyes may have leaked a little when I read his text message.

“The boys are having the time of their lives, walking around camp by themselves, playing with cousins, staying up till 10, swimming like fish…Once we get you and Dad up here, you will know what we mean and feel. I know that you enjoy the waves of the Atlantic, the breeze from the sea, the sand between your toes and all that it’s meant to the family. Once you get up here, you will have a different joy. Same, but different. One not competing with the other, just existing with each other. The smell of the pines, the ease of life, the quietness of the woods…Knowing that the kids can run around camp and someone will know where they are…The lack of technology…The love of the camp by so many generations and the history…When we get you up here, you will get to know that feeling of the quietness of the woods and it will be then when you truly understand the magic of Higgins.”

I love you, Robert, and I love you for embracing the love that Caitlin has for Higgins. The boys are making memories that will last a lifetime and I know that this tradition will continue on for generations to come.
Higgins truly is magical.
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“The most treasured heirlooms are the sweet memories of our family that we pass down to our children.” ~Daniel Willingham

A Lake Named Higgins

Even early in their courtship, our daughter-in-law would frequently make comments about Higgins Lake in Michigan. We have Lake Hartwell near us; we’ve always lived near a lake, so try as I might, I failed to understand what made Higgins more than ”just a lake”. It was just a lot of water with a tree-lined shore, or was it?

Their courtship became serious and we knew that our son had found “the one”. He loved her and so did we. Our extended family and our friends loved her. We were thrilled. I would later say that she was handpicked by the angels. I still believe that 11 years and 2 grandsons later.

But what was so special about this place called Higgins that she wanted to take him there so badly? Well…Higgins Lake (Lakeside) was where our daughter-in-law spent her summers growing up. Her family had a cottage there that had been in the family for many generations. There was so much history to be learned about family, family values, and about friends who were considered to be part of the family because they, too, had spent their summers at Higgins. Stories were told by her beloved grandfather and grandmother. They were being taught life skills and social graces that were and are still so important. The bonds and relationships that were formed all those summers ago remain strong even now. It seemed to almost be a spiritual place for them. Evidence of their ancestors was plentiful at Higgins.

And then there is the lake itself. Pictures of the lake are amazing. The water is so clear and clean. The shoreline is dotted with docks; boats are anchored out in the lake. I can almost smell the crisp, clean air that is filled with the aroma of Frazier firs. Looking out over the lake, I can sense a feeling of calmness, of a peacefulness that can only be found in this magical spot. And the sunsets…wow! It seems to be a place where troubles and frustrations are truly checked at the highway before turning onto the road that leads to the Lakeside area of Higgins. One day my husband and I hope to be able to visit there.

Our son, our ”free spirit”, knew after his first trip there that he was going to propose to her at that magical place. He had always been a ”no worries” kind of guy. This time however, he wanted to be sure that everything was going to be perfect when the time came for him to propose, so he concentrated on the logistics of it all. He knew of the intense love and respect that she had for Higgins and he wanted to honor that by proposing to her in the family cottage. The cottage that held so many memories for her became even more memorable on that special evening.

Fast forward to 2022 and their sons have grown to love Higgins, even though they are only 8 and 5 years old. They were so excited to be able to return this year. Because of Covid, it has been 3 years since they have visited that special place, the place where our daughter-in-law spent so many summers. Her friends and family have families of their own now and they are carrying on the tradition with their children, also. She sent a picture today of all of the little ones playing at the water’s edge. Were all of them related? Maybe not by blood, but by something almost as powerful.

The next generation is being taught about things that can only be instilled in them at Higgins. May the love and respect for this special place be passed on for generations to come, as one of our daughter-in-law’s ancestors so eloquently said in the quote below. Our son burned this quote into an old shingle that was once on the family cottage which is also pictured, as a gift to our daughter-in-law one year.

The Ocean Was Silent

This past March my husband and I spent several days at the beach. We were alone for the first 24 hours until one of my husband’s brothers and his wife arrived.

Much of our alone time was spent sitting on the beach that day and half of the next day. Perfect weather, sunshine and pelicans…we had it all. The ocean was warm for that time of year but not warm enough to go out beyond ankle depth.

As we sat there with our toes in the sand just spending time together, enjoying each other’s company and talking about everything or nothing, I watched the waves carefully as they broke onto the shore. At one time years ago in a similar situation, I studied the ebb and flow of the water for quite a while and then wondered aloud, ”wonder what percentage of the water that makes it to the shore actually makes it back out to the depths of the ocean or is it caught in another wave only to repeat itself time and again?” My husband thought I had lost my mind.🙂

Another question that I had at one time was about the grains of sand. Was the sand that was being swept onto the shore indigenous to this part of the ocean or had the sand travelled from places far away before reaching the shores of South Carolina? Still working on that answer.

During the March trip as we were relaxing in our beach chairs at low tide, it dawned on me. For a brief moment in time after a wave broke, the ocean would become silent. No sound…nothing. Waves were coming but were slow. It was almost as if the ocean was sending us a message. In the hectic world in which we live, perhaps, like the ocean, we need to be still and silent at times. We need to listen and learn from our surroundings. We need to ”just be”.

As time progressed and low tide was being transformed into high tide, the stillness and silence were broken. We were brought back to reality. Back to a time of planning dinner, discussing things to do, where to go, etc.

Our moments of solitude in the presence of the mighty ocean; moments that we had not recognized before, tranquility that we had never experienced like this…I believe that these brief, almost sacred moments were a gift sent from the heavens as a reminder to ”be still and know that I am God”.

May we all endeavor to do just that.

The Light Just Flickers…For Now

The fireworks started early. Around dusk I heard fireworks all around our neighborhood until it started to rain. It was a nice but short-lived shower, long enough I imagine for the revelers to restock and get ready for the next round. Our local meterologist has predicted a stormy night and looking at the radar, I believe him. What a way for 2021 to leave and for 2022 to arrive…wet, windy and noisy.

I enjoy watching fireworks. The colors and the patterns that appear in the sky are beautiful and for a while, my mind is transported to sweeter, happier moments. The ugliness of the world takes a back seat. It’s almost magical. I look around and I see people smiling, laughing, clapping and cheering. And then, it’s over. The magic is gone. In the blink of an eye the darkness of the sky returns and stays.

The last two years have been like fireworks. Many of us have listened to and have heeded the advice of the experts. We have listened to and have done what we have been asked to do because it’s not just about us. We want to protect those around us. Is it too much to ask for others to do the same? For two years we have worn masks, limited our activity with others, watched church services online, sanitized ourselves incessantly, yet not much has changed. The world is still in a dark place with only a few flickers of light and hope here and there. Feelings of entitlement however false they might be, are out of control. We are witnessing a rapidly growing group of selfish people who care only about themselves. Being a child of the 60s and 70s, I have seen social unrest and I have cried oceans of tears for those who have been victims of those times. What is happening now is an entirely different beast and it frightens me. What kind of world will our grandchildren have to endure? Where is the decency and compassion now? It truly has become a dog eat dog world. The handbasket to hell is overflowing.

The flickers of light and hope are being overshadowed by the darkness of evil. Our family, our little bubble, will continue to do our part and we will continue to pray for brighter, happier days. We hope that 2022 will be the year of emotional and physical healing for our country. We hope that more people will comply with the recommendations so that as the year goes on, there will be increased moments of beautiful patterns and colors not only in the sky, but also on people’s faces. We hope that more joy will return to the country and people will begin to trust again.

Fireworks are beautiful and the anticipation of the grand finale is exciting. May we all gather in one accord as we look towards the sky, and may the flickers of light and hope become more constant in all of our lives. Most importantly, may the Peace of Christ be with everyone.

Happy New Year.

The Struggle is Real

For 20 months we have struggled. For 20 months we have tried to do our part to protect our family and the people around us. We have worn masks since they were first recommended. Hand sanitizer and disinfecting wipes have become second nature to us.
We tested positive for COVID this past January and thanks to our awesome nurse practitioner, we were able to receive the monoclonal antibody infusion within 24 hours of being diagnosed. Our symptoms were mild compared to others. We were two of the fortunate ones. We quarantined for 2 weeks and prayed that we had not infected anyone during the interim period. Later we were able to receive both doses of the Pfizer vaccine and we will gladly roll up our sleeves for our booster shot.

We continue to be tested weekly just to be sure that we haven’t become infected again. We do not want to be part of the problem. We want to be part of the solution. We want to continue to protect our family, our grandsons and our friends.

This pandemic should not have lasted this long. I cannot wrap my head around the reluctance of others who simply refuse to try to be a part of the solution. What has happened to common decency? When did so many people become so selfish that they care about no one else? When did some people become so evil and even declared themselves experts or researchers? I have always been leary of most politicians and now I have lost total respect for most of them. How can someone in a position of power be so blind? Don’t they see what is happening? All they care about is their own personal gain no matter the cost. What has happened? When will this ever end? How can people turn on others so quickly and attack them so viciously through their words and actions? I hate politics. Pure and simple. Politics are the devil’s workshop.

I am depressed and have become increasingly depressed with each passing day. Some days I can do very little because my mind and my heart won’t allow it. What is going to happen to the world that our grandsons are growing up in? I worry about their future. I worry about values and consistency. I worry about being able to continue to be optimistic in a world of such turmoil. It is getting harder each day. Never would I have imagined that we would live in fear because of the uncertainty all around us. Never would I have imagined that simply walking down the street could be risky. All of my “never would I have imagined” and my “I worry about” moments are becoming reality.

At times when I am really, really depressed I think of my sweet mama and daddy. They worked hard and provided us a loving home. They never complained. They believed in the doctors and in the sciences even long ago. They believed in looking after their neighbors and especially their family. They were not selfish; they each had a servant’s heart and it showed everyday no matter how challenging their day had been. They were never too busy for others. They taught us 4 children about responsibility, committment and keeping your word. We were taught to always help others, never be rude or unkind to others. We were expected to follow the rules and to always respect those around us even if we disagreed with each other. I miss them so very much.

Mama had been on my mind all day and I longed for some of her delicious cooking. I thought about what she used to make and suddenly remembered her hash. Mama could make the best hash ever and I could not remember the last time I had made it. Today, after many years of not having Mama’s hash, I bought everything to make it. The kitchen smelled wonderful as the beef cooked and as the onions were added to the pot. Once everything was put together and allowed to simmer for an hour or so, Rob and I had a most delicious supper of hash on buns, homemade cole slaw and fresh corn on the cob. It was a supper that reminded me of simpler times, happier times and times when most people were civil to each other and cared for each other. It reminded me of Mama and Daddy and for a little while, life was good and my sadness was gone.

Thank you, Mama & Daddy. I love you and miss you so much.

Gentle Souls with Big Hearts

My last Father’s Day with my daddy was when I was thirteen years old. He died later that year, about six weeks after my fourteenth birthday.

My daddy was a soft spoken man and he was the smartest man I had ever known even though he only had an eighth grade education. He was a hard worker, a good husband and the best father a girl could ever hope for. I was a Daddy’s girl.

Daddy loved to fish. He loved his boat so much and on some Sunday afternoons he would pull the boat out of the boat shed and just sit in it. I imagine he was thinking about the big one that got away or was making plans for his next fishing trip to Santee Cooper. He was a good fisherman and everything that I know about fishing, I learned from him.

Daddy, with only an eighth grade education, taught his Sunday School class. In a class filled with educated men, he was the teacher. He tried to get someone else to teach the class after a couple of years but no one wanted to follow him. I remember some of them telling me when he died that he was the best teacher they had ever had. He would begin preparing for the next Sunday’s lesson as soon as we got home from church each Sunday. It seemed like we were at church all the time; twice on Sunday and then every Wednesday evening. If the doors were unlocked, we were there and we were always early. Daddy refused to be late for church.

Daddy was a good man, a respected man, and he and Mama raised four children, two sons and two daughters. My sister was sixteen when I was born so, yes, he spoiled me probably more than he would have if I had been born much earlier. In my eyes, he could do no wrong.

He was a great papa to his grandchildren. In his eyes they could do no wrong. He was proud of every one of them. I can only imagine how proud he would be now.

Rob and I were high school sweethearts. He dated all of my best friends before he dated me. He told me that he saved the best for last. I told him that there was no one left.

I never imagined that there would be anyone else who would be as good, as sweet and as good of a man and a father as my daddy was. I was wrong. I married that man forty-eight years ago and I know that Daddy would have loved him. His only shortcoming would have been his lack of knowledge about fishing. Rob grew up with a golf club in his hand and I grew up with a fishing pole in mine. I had to teach Rob how to bait a hook and how to fish. He still hasn’t take a fish off of the hook, though…

Rob is a wonderful husband. He is an even better father and papa. He loves his children and his grandsons. He is so very proud of his family. He is kind, sometimes to a fault; he would do anything for anyone. He is so patient. He has always refused to say something in haste because he never wants to say anything that he will regret later. I have always admired that but admit that having a one sided argument is non-productive.🙂

And then there is our son. We have always referred to him as a “free spirit” who would have been a good hippie. He takes most everything in stride. He, like his dad, is patient and kind. He is a “no worries” guy who tries to find the best in everyone. His smile lights up the room and he makes everyone feel special. He has that gift.

Our son is a hard worker who loves his wife and his two sons. Watching him with our grandsons makes us so proud. He is a “hands-on” dad and he learned that from his dad. His sense of humor keeps life interesting and he tries to always find something positive in every situation.

He is very thoughtful and mindful of others. Like his dad, he thinks before he speaks. Like his dad, he has earned the respect of those around him.

My daddy, my husband and our son are wonderful examples of how a father should be. I am very fortunate to have had a great daddy. I am beyond blessed to have a husband and a son who are great fathers; I am just sad that they never had a chance to know my daddy. Robert, he would have loved you so much and would have been so proud of you..

On this Father’s Day, 2021, I hope that each of you will be able to see your fathers and tell them how much you love them. If that isn’t possible, call them and tell them. Don’t text them. If your fathers are no longer living, I hope that your memories of your dads are special and are filled with love.

“I believe that what we become depends on what our fathers teach us at odd moments, when they aren’t trying to teach us. We are formed by little scraps of wisdom.” Umberto Eco