the sweetest season I know

As I sit in the quietness of my camper on the eve of Christmas, I look out the window at the dampness still on the ground. Nothing moving. Not a single leaf on the tree. As peaceful as a baby asleep in its crib. The candle burning beside me; strong aroma of mocha. The light in the morning sky, shining brightly with rays of hope. Drinking hot cappuccino warm and soothing. My morning devotion, the words I write on a card, my prayers for others, seem almost... anointed. Picture of my baby grandson, grips my heart especially tight. Something about this season. It's the sweetest season I know. Families seem closer. Strangers appear kinder. Everything around me seems brighter, bigger, more beautiful. As I sit, I remember friends whose husbands just passed away this week. I think about the families still living in tents months after the hurricane. The mothers and fathers yearning for their wayward sons and daughters to come home. The children that are patiently awaiting a forever mama and daddy to love them. The man sleeping on the sidewalk. The mother that can't spend time with her children because she is in prison. Please bring them peace. As I sit quietly, I can't help but think about those that enjoy putting up a beautiful Christmas tree and buying lavish gifts to put under it, but have no idea why they are doing it. Please let them find you...for you are the reason for this season. I believe in this season. I believe in you. And whether we wake up on Christmas morn in joy or pain... you will forever love us. Jesus, you are the sweetest one I know...sweeter than honey to my lips. sammie jean

i didn't know it then but i do now

I cried all night. Probably the next day too. Everyone told me that I was going to win the beauty contest when I was six. I didn't. You did. We started school together. Kindergarten. In fact all four of us did. Not sure what we had in common. Elementary school was just okay for me. Two of us rode the bus to school and two of us didn't. We were in the same class some years and other years we weren't. You learned your multiplication facts like clockwork and I didn't. I remembered thinking and probably said, "How do you do that?"  Recess was my thing. I loved it. We played chase. We swung. We climbed on the bars. Not sure but that might be when it happened. You were athletic and could run like the wind. You could draw well. I remember that tornado. You were popular. Everyone seemed to love you. Some of us made great grades and some of us not so great. One year in middle school we all ended up in the same science class. I'll never know how but we did. Remember that huge project? Our teacher let us leave the classroom every day and walk across the road to a wooded area to do our "hands-on" research. I think it had something to do with leaves. Tell you the truth I don't really remember. We were in our own little world though. A world that we created every day. Same time. Same place. It might have happened there. In middle school some of us got our first taste of what it was like to be a cheerleader. I think we were hooked forever. We had "spend the night parties."  Birthday parties. Walks to the nearby store. You preferred soda and honey buns. I indulged in penny candy. Not long after that all our lives began to change. It was there that things got complicated at times. Our lives were interrupted by boys. By first love. Our friendship might have seemed a little distant at times. We all got married. Had babies. Went our separate ways. Took different paths. Only occasionally would they intercept. I remember our kids playing together. Your daughter getting married. My wedding the 2nd time around. I remember the funeral. I saw you there. We hugged so tight. I cried. And then after all those years we were all at the reunion together. All four of us. The first time in forty years. We planned a trip. Our very first trip together. All four of us. Not too far away. Just a little trip to a cabin in Georgia. We were in the car together on our way. And I think it was there that it happened. We knew. No words can really describe it. We just knew. We knew that God had brought us together after all those years "for such a time as this." It was perfect. Not too early. Not too late. Right on time. It was very clear that "you have not chosen one another, but I have chosen you for one another"quote from CS Lewis had become ours. How could four girls from a small town in Florida continue to be friends after all those years? Since they were six years old. Through skinned knees and bruised elbows. Enough stuff to distance them forever. Broken roads for sure. But, broken roads that had been resurfaced. It didn't take long for us to see that. It was a sacred moment. It might have been in a car traveling north, but it was definitely a "take off your shoes your standing on holy ground kind of moment." I get chill bumps just thinking about it. I didn't realize that you were my soul mate when we built structures with the huge blocks in kindergarten. I didn't realize it when I went home with you and fell in love with your brother. Or when we cheered. Or the time we highlighted our hair. I didn't know that I would love, cherish, and appreciate you more than I could ever explain. I had no idea that I would see you as one of my most precious gifts from God. But, I do now.

I love you ❤
sammie jean

it's a beautiful mess...

 Two and a half weeks ago a major hurricane hit our area. Our world was shaken to say the least. Everyone around us was. Our families, friends, neighbors, and strangers were all effected.  Our world seemed to be turned upside down. Literally in some cases. The Florida Panhandle was changed forever. People had been saying for years that the gulf coast about 40 miles from us had never experienced a devastating hit. Well, this time it did. It seemed to have come out of no where. One minute we were going through the normal routine of leaving our camper and traveling to a safe haven at my mamas, for a Cat 1 or 2 and the next minute we heard it was coming on shore directly at us as a Cat 4. I don't know what I would have done differently... everyone was in the same shoes. After the storm quickly passed through, thank God it didn't stall, no one had electricity or cell phone service and we only had limited amounts of food and water. Some didn't even have homes. Believe me, I'm not complaining. We were just thankful to be alive. Days later, we came back to our camper, to check on things. We couldn't get down our road for the pine trees that had been chopped into and blown over everywhere. We had to get out of the car and travel by foot. As we walked up to our place we saw that our camper was in tact. Just everything was a mess. We were extremely grateful that our home had not been blown over. I walked onto the porch I found myself saying out loud, "My flower bed is a mess," as I reached over to pick up the debris; leaves, limbs, and all that was left by the storm. I was a little disgruntled, to say the least. All I could see was the mess! I was just thanking God that our camper was still secure. How quickly my view was skewed. Looking away in dissatisfaction, I saw the butterflies fluttering all over the golden Lantana like they had always done. And the bees buzzing happily in and around it all. They were not the least bit dismayed by the scene. They were doing what they loved to do. Seeing them lifted my spirits. Then the thought came to me. Why am I so agitated? As I looked a little closer, beneath the stubble, there were my flowers. Just as pretty as ever. Maybe even prettier. I couldn't see them at first. I could only see the yuck. I couldn't see the roses for all the thorns. I don't have any roses but you know what I mean. I know it's a small thing. A flower bed and all. But, somehow this little analogy seems to make sense. I know that some people might not see it like this. I hear them. And that's okay. And yes it's true...I didn't lose everything I have. If I did, I pray I would still see it like this. I was reading my morning devotion this morning and this verse stood out at me (of course it would)...the wind and the waves know His name. Of course they do! He created them! There was nothing about this storm that took Him by surprise. I also remembered the verse...there is a time and season for everything... I started to see things differently. I thought about all the devastating events of the last few weeks. As I looked closely from underneath the rubble and pain all around us, I saw a beautiful thing happening. Actually, a "beautiful mess" started to emerge. Slowly at first. Almost a snails pace. Then it grew and grew and started to spread.  Everywhere I looked people were caring for other people.  Person after person worked tirelessly at shelters and donation stations. People cooked hot meals for those that couldn't. They cleaned, raked, sawed, listened, prayed. The very next day, after the storm had passed, my husband ventured out across the road to talk to my mom's neighbors. To check on them. Some homes had trees through their roofs. Others didn't. But, we still had a whole lot in common. We all started picking up the broken pieces of our lives together. Whether it be in our yard or their yard or another town or county, it didn't matter. Power companies, police officers, emergency people, started flooding in from all over the US to give us aid. Selfless acts of service. We are forever grateful for all their help. Everyone has been changed. I even found myself more concerned about the other person getting water at Walmart than I was for myself. We have had a lot of time to get reacquainted with our  families too. Time to just talk to one another; no cell phones, no TV, nothing but good ole conversation. Now that is no small feat. I'm sure new friendships have been made. Old ones renewed. Time spent loving on each other. It isn't just an ordinary experience for sure. We traveled north for a few days while our electricity was off.  My husband and I took my mother and granddaughter to our place in North Carolina for a week. I have been wanting my mother to visit us for over a year now and the opportunity never arose.This was definitely an unexpected trip. Who would have ever thought that a storm blowing through our area would give us that time. We got the chance to hold our family close and we took it. On our trip up north, days after the storm, my husband and I talked to a man and woman that sat across from us eating breakfast. The first hot meal we all had, had in a few days. He had no idea that she had completely lost her house in the storm and the young man that sat across the table from her had brought her to eat breakfast.The waitress came up to us and said, "The man at the table over there paid for your families breakfast and the table next to you." A total stranger. I have never had anyone pay for my whole meal like that before. I almost cried. To pass it forward we bought the young man and young woman's breakfast. We didn't have much cash on us but we were able to give her what we had. We have prayed for her since that time. In fact, we've had a lot of opportunities for prayer. Everyone has. It's a little ironic don't you think?  He takes messes and makes something beautiful out of them. It kinda makes me wonder if I should call them messes at all! A time when we might ordinarily focus on ourselves, we start thinking about others. It doesn't matter   what anyone else says...I see some plain "ole" good people. I know that it is going to take a long time for some to find a new normal. A very long time. But, I know with all my heart, we are all going to be better for it. I will never for one minute believe that God didn't orchestrate everything. He knows exactly what He is doing.

❤Our communities are stronger because we are better people❤
sammie jean

beach trips and (beach fruit)...that's what memories are made of

I like to compare my thought process to a cup of hot cider with a cinnamon stick. Stir and stir. Mull things over. It gets better and better with just a little extra time. That's what I did about this past weekend.  It's not very often that my sister and I get our girls together. Just us. Maybe during holidays or special occasions. We spend the day together. But a whole weekend is unheard of these days. When our kids were young, mama, my sister and I, and our three girls, would get together for a week at the beach. Some how we managed to make it a yearly trip. Our close friend and her daughter would join us. My son which was seven years younger than my daughter only got in on a trip or two. By the time he came along we had stopped making it a yearly tradition. Each year was a little different; a little older, possibly a little wiser, hopefully not a little heavier, but the one thing that was a must was..."beach fruit." Orange juice poured over fruit cocktail with bananas cut into small pieces, chilled and ready to eat at any time. Simply delicious. Nothing more refreshing after a day in the sun.  We spent hours at the pool. For some reason we seldom went down to the gulf. Something about salt, sand, sweat, and small children that just didn't mix. Then after we had all the fun we could stand for one day, we bathed, put on our summer's best, fixed our hair (which seemed to take hours) and went out to eat. Love thinking about those days. I remember the year daddy died, mama couldn't stand the thought of having Christmas at home. Fifty-six years of memories. So where did we go? The beach. I think it was a safest place for her that year. She rented a condo for the whole family. We tried hard to maintain normalcy; a Christmas tree, gifts, homemade gumbo, grands all around her...but daddy wasn't there.  My daughter called me several months ago while we were in our cabin in North Carolina. "Mama, I want to do something special for nana," the girls call her. "Do you think you will be free for a weekend the last of August?" she inquired. She had invited her aunt and cousin's as well. This was June. I put it on my calendar. It was a date. We all agreed to make this a special weekend "just for her." The weekend finally arrived. My daughter had given me all the information I needed; where to go, what to do, and exactly how she wanted it done. I told her okay. When she gets bossy I do that to get her to hush. My sister and I had the challenge of getting our mama to the beach without her knowing anything about what we had planned. My sister has a place west of where we always took our children when they were young, so we told her we were going there. Of course that wasn't the truth. We were going back to the place of our "summer getaways." "Mama, we're going to try this new restaurant in PC for dinner," we told her on our way. She was happy and content. One thing for sure. She trust my sister and I. I think we could drag her off to Kalamazoo and she would come right along smiling. The road was all torn up; under heavy construction, so it made the area a little hard to travel and a little confusing, but because my sister is the "directional one" between the two of us, I felt I was in safe hands. We arrived to the condo or restaurant ( mama thought). I realized that my phone was dead. I could just hear my daughter. "Mama, make sure you keep your phone charged," she insisted. I didn't. All the directions that she had so precisely given me were stored in it. Plus, I was suppose to video the whole thing, per her orders. When I told my sister that my phone was dead, I saw the same look on her face that I had seen so many times growing up. That look of ,"Can you do anything right?" Well guess what? Younger sisters don't have to, we have our older sisters to take care of things. Sure enough, my sister saved the day when she made communication quickly with her children upstairs. We were on our way. I grabbed her phone to video tape the wild goose chase. And it was that. Now just listen to this. We walked through the entrance door of the condo, walked down the hallway to look for the elevator, got on the elevator, went up the the fourteenth floor, got off the elevator and walked past ten rooms or so until we finally reached our room, knocked on the door and there they were...our three girls dressed in Hawaiian clothes holding up signs, "This Is For You!!!!" Poor mama! We blew her mind for sure! All she could say was,"What are ya'll doing here?" Bless her heart, she still was looking for the restaurant. She was over-whelmed to say the least. She shed a few tears and said, "No one has every done anything like this for me." Crazy as it might sound, I can safely say, "We pulled it off." My daughter's plans had been beautifully implemented. We had a luau on the deck, complete with flaming torches, coconut shrimp, meatballs/pineapple skewers, and fruity drinks. It's a wonder someone didn't report us. We were not quiet....but, we never are. We enjoyed ourselves. Mama is eighty-seven and puts us all to shame. She gets up every morning before sunrise to walk around the track at the local hospital, every day of her life. Everyone that knows her still describes her as beautiful; inside and out. She might be older and a little hard of hearing, but she is no push over. She doesn't talk very loud and she doesn't talk very much, but let me just tell you, when mama speaks...we listen. We all pretty much think, "she hung the moon." My only sister doesn't talk a lot either. But, she enjoys conversation. We get so tickled at her. She's a little gullible at times. She's the kind of person that gets the punch line a few seconds after everyone else gets it. She's not a slacker though. She can figure out the killer on her favorite crime shows when others can't... just skip the jokes. She and I were always different when we were younger, being four and half years apart, and didn't have a lot in common. But you know what? I don't think that anymore...she has become my best friend.  Her two daughters, my nieces, are as different as my sister and I were growing up. One loves to talk and the other not so much, but is a good listener. She's like her aunt a little; loves to "mull " things over in her mind. If I were to describe them to you I would say one is right brain and the other is left; one intuitive the other analytical. But, actually I think both of them are mathematical and both creative, so, so much for that theory. One thing I do know for sure is, they are beautiful, caring, committed young woman. I am as proud of them; as proud as my sister is. Well, almost!
 I saved my daughter for last. I can't tell you about her without telling you about me too. We are like lemonade. Sour yet sweet. Or is it sweet yet sour? Either way, when you take a sip, you never know exactly what you are going to get. It might be so lemony that you squint your eye or delicious enough to just sit back and enjoy. I don't think I have ever been as talkative as my daughter is but I don't think she sits and ponders like I do, but we are alike in so many ways. We are crazy about music. Love a good time! We are very emotional and often misunderstood. When we believe in someone or some thing we believe wholeheartedly. We have had our share of pain but also our share of  joy! We both strive for balance. It just doesn't come easy for us. When I look in my daughters eyes, I sometimes still see a sad little girl. I think she is finding herself though. It took me a long time to find myself too.  Daughter, you have a heart of gold. Thank you for such a special weekend.💕 We can definitely chalk one more up for the beach. No "beach fruit." But, nevertheless, many memories were made with our little lady, Nellie Herrick.

 I pray we have many more❤

sammie jean

your presence...

The wind and its furry,
a mighty storm;
uprooting all

The earthquake and its shaking
 everything crumbling;
as it falls

The fires blazing heat
a raging, ravenous,
angry beast

Mighty is
your handiwork;
Powerful indeed...

But, as I stand on the
mountainside,
I realize,
you aren't in the three

 You come like
 a spring shower;
refreshing as the rain

Your voice
 a gentle whisper;
quiet, peaceful refrain

You sing over me
words of solitude; 
a sweet, melodic song;

gently cooing
 as a turtle dove;
all the day long

Your presence...
assures me;
of your endless love

You quieten my very soul


The Lord said, "Go out and stand on the mountain in the presence of the Lord for the Lord is about to pass by." Then a great and powerful wind tore the mountains apart and shattered the rocks before the Lord, but the Lord was not in the wind. After the wind there was an earthquake, but the Lord was not in the earthquake. After the earthquake came a fire, but the Lord was not in the fire. After the fire came a gentle whisper. I Kings 19:11-12 NIV

comfortable in my own skin...

My newest endeavor, substitute teaching. Its been a long time since I applied for a job. Thirty-five years. Things have changed; application four pages long, drug test, fingerprints. My husband is going to try this too. I say try. After being retired for three years, the thought of getting up early and going to work seems a little scary. Anyway, here we go.We went to get our fingerprints yesterday. She did my thumb print first and then my four fingers together. Right hand then left. Then, I had to roll my thumb and each finger separately. Starting with my thumb, the message came across the screen on the computer, "print cannot be found." I knew that was impossible because I had just done my fingerprints. But, nevertheless, I had to do both thumbs and 8 fingers a total of 3 times each. That's thirty rolls, all because it kept saying, "fingerprint can't be found." The lady that was doing the prints said, "Your fingers are very wrinkled." "You must do a lot of work." We laughed.  She said, "Your fingerprints look like an interstate going across them." I asked her what if the Florida Department of Law Enforcement didn't accept them? She told me that this happens occasionally and they usually do. Kinda strange I thought... it really doesn't matter if they like them or not, they are my fingerprints and there is nothing I can do about that. My husband jumped up there and breezed right through it.  It's funny how the smallest things can make you feel insecure. It does me. It  feeds that little bit of self-doubt that is always standing close by. That voice that says. "See you don't measure up." "You're not good enough." I thought about an experience that happened to me when I had just graduated high school and was entering college. Still young, immature, wet behind the ears. We had to go through an orientation class and we were doing a questionnaire to see what interested us. After I finished mine, I remember the person telling me that it couldn't be scored because there were too many conflicting answers. In other words, I had no idea what I wanted to do. That wasn't such a big deal. But, what it really did was, feed into my self-doubt that I had no idea who I really was. That was a slap in my face. It's true that I grew up trying to please everyone. Thought that was what I was suppose to do. Always smile. Never show my true feelings. I tried hard at school to be well-liked. I was pretty successful. My social status was extremely important. Far more important than my academic one. I grew up in a home where my parents were total opposites. My daddy an extrovert, charismatic, loud and loved people. Mama on the other hand; quieter, yet warm and friendly. My sister and I fell in between somewhere. I remember my sister telling me that she was very out-going when she was young.  I was very out-going when I was younger too. People often told me I was like my daddy. I'm not sure when it happened though, but somehow through the years I feel like I turned into my mother. I like so many of the same things that she does. We both like the early morning. That is my favorite time with my mother. Talking over a cup of hot coffee. I still remember growing up, getting up early and walking into our living room and there she sat in the same chair every morning, wrapped up in a blanket, reading her bible. Although in a new house now, she still has a favorite chair, a cup of coffee, and her bible. I love my early morning devotional time too. I don't think I have ever seen a more disciplined person than my mother. She has exercised her whole life. Being a physical education teacher has helped. But, even today, she gets up before daylight and goes to the local hospital to walk. I have never been very disciplined. The strangest thing happened to me though when I retired, I wanted to get healthy; eat better and exercise. What a role model she has been! Mama and I both enjoy our flower garden.  I still remember the vase of flowers that she so creatively helped me put together for the Garden Club.  I was probably around 12 years old. It was definitely mama that gave me the bug. I love my flowers. We both love the seasons and holidays; can't wait for fall each year which is our absolute favorite season and Christmas our favorite holiday. Even today, mama loves to decorate her house for each season. Her dining room table laden with rabbits and pastel colors for Easter and turkeys and pumpkins for the fall. At 87 she can't wait to get her Christmas tree put up and all 10 stockings hung from the mantel; one for each great grandchild. Oh wait! With our new addition to the family, my precious little grandson, she will have 11 this year. She has a wreath for every occasion (sometimes as big as her door) and outdoor garden flags to boot.  I love her over-the-top enthusiasm for decorating!  A little rubbed off on me. Snuggling up to a warm, cozy, wood burning fireplace is my very favorite.  I'm sure all because of the many, many days I warmed up to hers and daddy's. But, for mama, it was a must! Although I enjoy people like my daddy did, I find that my favorite place is in the solitude of my own home; just like my mama. But, you know, it doesn't really matter who I took after, the most important thing is, I feel comfortable in my own "wrinkled" skin. The first thing that popped into my head yesterday when the lady had trouble getting my fingerprints was the verse... "you knit me together in my mothers womb. I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made." I might be a little insecure at times. I might have more wrinkles on my fingers than most.  But, one thing I know without a doubt... You have always known me. And You have always loved me. Thank you Father God!

That's the most important thing 💗

sammie jean

a summer full of surprises

These days life has become a lot more simple. My prayer has become; help me say, do, and be what brings you honor and glory. It really seems to be the main thing that matters. As I sit and ponder...I can only feel gratitude. Gratitude for my family. God's special gift to us. He loves family. We spent two wonderful weeks with our granddaughter in the mountains. There were a few highlights; white water rafting in the Nantahala River. I wish I could have recorded her constant excitement behind me. Horseback riding along the edge of the mountain. Our guide said, "She's just a natural." Climbing to the top of Bell Mountain. "Come on Ammie, climb to the top with me." Memories forever etched in my mind. But, it's those small things; her first Yahtzee, feeding treats to the neighbors dog on the back porch, holding her small hand in church and just talking about life that seem to grab hold of my heartstrings the most when I think about it ❤

It did bring back memories though of growing up in the icy cold creek water while white water rafting. At one point, we pulled over to a white bottom sandbar, turned the raft over and jumped into the 48 degree water. It honestly took my breath away it was so cold.  Our granddaughter couldn't believe we did it. She didn't realize that we had done that our whole life. I explained, "We had a huge oak tree beside the creek that had a rope hanging from it that we jumped from." Her eyes wide open 👀 "You did!". I think pawpaw and I grew a little larger in her eyes that day ⌣

My son reached over and handed me the most precious little bundle I have held in quite a while. Our grandson. So proud of mom and dad...they were quite the team. Just a little over a 5 pound bag of sugar. Just as much sweetness, for sure. We were expecting him shortly upon our arrival home...not the very next day though. I know without a doubt it was the best welcome home gift I have ever received ❤

.


So thankful for so many things...family, cabin get-away in the mountains, breath, life...all because of the constant love of the Father. Many days this summer were spent on the back porch. My favorite place to be these days. Just basking in the love of Jesus. Alone a lot. But, sometimes rocking with my husband. Funny how we have turned into "old people." Talking about the humming birds 🐦 Seems like it happened over night. I often say, "I wish I had of known what I know now." It's wonderful to be older though; smarter, more secure, satisfied. I'll take it any day. 👧👶💕🏠

sammie jean

a gentle whisper...

 I was raised in a loud family. It brings a smile to my face when I think about us.  When we all get together everyone tries to talk at the same time. No one really has the floor to speak. If you want to be heard you just have to be louder than everyone else. I thought that was just the way all families were until I married my husband. No! Not at all. They talk so calm and quiet. My sister and I were raised by a very loud daddy. Our mother the total opposite. My daddy loved being the center of attention. He was passionate about everything he did; coaching, administrator, or even on the floor of the House of Representatives in the state capitol. Even if he was just talking to his neighbor, he had a way of drawing you in. So much charisma. Mama tells stories about how she and daddy sold pots and pans when they first got married, a salesman for sure. It didn't matter what it was, he was good at it. Well, I have a little bit of him in me. I have always done things to try to get everybody's attention. I don't know if I got that from my daddy or because I am the baby of the family. Probably both. I always tried to make my mother and sister laugh, for attention. I loved being a cheerleader all the way through school. I gave speeches in front of large assemblies. I sang solo's at church. I enjoyed being front and center. Things started changing for me when I was around 30 years old. I became a little more reserved and I started not enjoying the attention as much. Well, maybe, still a little when I am around my mother and sister. You know old habits are hard to break ⌣
 Circumstances in life have a way of taking the wind out of your sails. I'm pretty sure that happened to me. I was disappointed with how my life had turned out and I felt that everyone else was too. I was sure that God was disappointed in me. I remember years later when I started cleaning our church for a little extra money, I spent the time praying as well. It was during those years that I realized that I had His attention. I didn't need an audience, applause, or accolades of any kind. I didn't need any one else. I sang and danced to an audience of one. He truly satisfied my soul. I had never been that content in my lifetime. I actually realized how much He loved me. He wasn't disappointed in me at all. I have been reading the old testament lately and I came across this scripture. I knew the scripture but this time it really came alive for me. I started thinking about how in the past I had done things for attention. How I really wanted to be seen and I wanted to be heard. I became so ashamed of myself and how prideful I had been. If I had of only known at that time how worldly attention paled in comparison to the master of the universe and the lover of my soul watching over me. Don't get me wrong, there are still seasons in my life that I get a little loud for attention. I might not like what is going on, so I cry, shout, and stomp my feet. I know He doesn't really mind though. He understands me. He knows that I will eventually come and just lay it at His feet in surrender. Sometimes it just takes a little time. I know though, without a shadow of a doubt, that if I do, He will quieten my storm. There is nothing else in the world like His calming presence. It is like an early morning spring shower. This spring when we were in our cabin in the mountains, in the wee hours of the morning, I could hear the pitter-patter of rain outside my window. It would sometimes awaken me but I would lie there so peaceful and safe in my cozy, warm bed. By sunrise when I got up and went on the porch to look across the yard I could see tiny little raindrops glisten on the tender vegetation as the sun peeked through the towering oaks. Still surrender. It was as if I could hear Him say in a calming, gentle whisper, "I see you and I love you."

 I love this scripture so, so much. The Lord said, "Go out and stand on the mountain in the presence of the Lord for the Lord is about to pass by." Then a great and powerful wind tore the mountains apart and shattered the rocks before the Lord, but the Lord was not in the wind. After the wind there was an earthquake, but the Lord was not in the earthquake. After the earthquake came a fire, but the Lord was not in the fire.  After the fire came a gentle whisper.
      I Kings 19:11-12 NIV   

sammie jean ❤

you can't judge a table by its glass...

As we drove by the antique store, I saw it sitting outside. An aqua blue, wrought iron chairs and glass top table. The chairs had little flower cushions in them. It was different for sure. I thought it was really cute. It wasn't "cabiny" at all. I didn't really want that rustic look this time. I thought it would add an interesting touch to our back porch. I didn't say anything the first time I saw it. I'm a thinker. A planner. So, I have to get things right in my mind before I tell my husband about it. I want to think that God has taught me this little piece of patience. We passed by it several more times and finally I told hubby that I liked it. If I tell him I like something he will try his darn level best to get it. So, I better be sure. We didn't go immediately, but a week or so later we stopped by to check on it. It was still there. As I got out of the car, I immediately went over to get a closer look. I ran my hands across the table. As I did, I saw some discoloring on one side of the table. You know that foggy look that glass gets when it is old. I put some spit on my finger and ran it across the glass to see if it was just dirty. I did it again going over the top and underneath. No it wasn't just dirty, it was discolored. As I walked into the store I told the man that I was interested in the table and chairs but that there was a problem with the glass. "Yes," he said. "I tried to clean that off when I first got it." "Make me an offer," he continued. We looked around the store. As we left, he walked out to the table and chairs, pondering for a few minutes, he came off the asking price. He even told us he could deliver it. That was the real deal maker because we didn't have a way of getting it home. A few days later he arrived with our painted blue wrought iron cutie. A chair at a time and then the big glass top table; we put it into place on the porch. I had a candle all ready to place in the middle of the table. Perfect! I loved it! It certainly added the little bit of charm I was looking for. The candle was quickly removed though, because my husband, the perfectionist that he is, had already gone to the hardware store to purchase ceramic, glass cleaner. Sure enough, he started pretty quickly trying to get the glass clean. He even bought razor blades to scrape it. He was certain that he could get it clean. He scrubbed and scraped. Remember that sound kids make when they scratch their fingernails down a chalkboard? Well maybe your too young. Oh well, anyway, it will make your skin crawl. After almost an hour he said, "It looks like I'm not going to be able to get it off." "It's okay," I assured him. "It doesn't have to be perfect," I re-assured him (and me.) "It's okay if it is flawed," I said. "Everything and everyone has flaws." "Yes, we do," he agreed. He continued to wipe a little. I could tell it was hard for him to give up on it. We're really different, my husband and I, yet alike too. We both think outside of the box, just usually at opposite ends of it. I had already planned in my mind the color of place mats to use on the table. "We'll just cover that spot up," I thought. He told me again that he was sorry that he wasn't able to get it clean. He had bought it for me and couldn't stand that it wasn't just right. I love that about him. As I sat on the porch and watched him clean, I started thinking about imperfections in my own life. I thought about how about twenty-one years ago my husband at the time and I took our seven year old daughter to a large hospital out of town to have laser surgery done to remove the port wine stain on her cheek. I found out about the surgery and since it was considered a birth defect, insurance would cover it. We took her several times and it was quite painful for her. She said that it felt like grease popping on her face. The surgeon said that the next time that we did it, we needed to put her asleep because of the pain. I didn't want to do that. But, we left it up to her. It was her choice. I will never forget her saying. "I don't want to do it anymore." "Just leave it like it is. It's a part of me." Wow! Straight from the mouth of babes. I had never looked at it like that. I had in my mind that it wasn't suppose to be there. We needed to have it removed. Thank you daughter for teaching me a valuable lesson that day.  Recently, my friends and I got together at the beach. We try to do that at least once a year. I wanted to make something special for them. They are life-long friends. Those kind of friends that you literally only have "once in a lifetime." We have a lot of things in common but one thing we have in common is we have been through a lot of "trying experiences," that left a few scars. The most amazing thing though is that each one is a beautiful reminder of God's faithfulness to us. These are not just ordinary women to me they are virtuous women. Women that I love very much. I painted the scripture out of Proverbs 31 on a canvas, "She is worth far more than rubies." One for each one of them. After I finished one, I noticed that I had filled in all of the "f" rather than kept the loop open. It didn't look bad. It just looked different than the other two. I decided to let them just pick a gift bag rather than me giving it to them. In that way, I left it up to God. Well, sure enough the friend that I felt in my heart I wanted to give it to, picked it. She texted me days later and told me, "I just love it." I told her the story how I wanted her to have it, but left it up to Him. She understood perfectly. I knew she would ♡ There is something so special about being broken open and then allowing Jesus to piece you back together again. Every scar, every flaw, every wrinkle, every limp, every little bitty piece of imperfection, is there for a reason. I love that even our own mistakes will serve a purpose in His kingdom; nothing ever wasted. Each one are lessons learned and character made stronger. It is a reminder of His love for us; every single day. He doesn't make mistakes. So, how could I ever view an imperfection as anything other than absolutely beautiful? You know the old saying, you can't judge a book by its cover?  Well...you can't judge a table by its glass either 💕

sammie jean

Poem

Old Camp Town

Ode to an old campground in the sixties

I remember our vacation

(When I was a child)

Every summer was a must;

We hit the road, loaded down,

Carolina bound or bust

 Campground in the Blue Ridge

Enormous summer fun;

Our little haven standing still,

Awaiting our return

The mountain side steep trails

  laden with brown crispy leaves;

The oaks standing proud and tall

rope swing swaying in the breeze

Pulled my pants up to wade the

icy cold stream;

“Last one in is a rotten egg,”

 the water hole was our dream

This stone is right where I left it

It’s granite, I was told;

Stone terraces all around us

 such beauty to behold

Campfire blazing, marsh mellows roasting,

Scary stories before bed;

My favorite one of all the tales,

The Horseman with No Head

Oh, the memories…
though not mine;
Are calling my name,
there etched in time

  They speak to me,

not sure how...

 I wasn't there then,

But, I am NOW!

Sammie Jean

Poem written for our cabin in NC

it's not just a cabin

"I'm not fixing the creak in the screen door," he said. My husband is such a "fix-it" man that it kinda surprised me to hear him say that. "It reminds me of the door we had in our house when I was a little boy," he continued. I could relate. The creaking noise reminded me of the door on my grandparent's front porch too. The way the screen door hits the wood frame when you let it go. It's an annoying gratifying kind of sound. Every time I hear it, I become ten years old and back on my grandparent's porch near Hard Labor Creek. There's just so much about our little red cabin on Red Bird Lane in the mountains of North Carolina that reminds us of our past. Even the red bird brings back memories for us. It's not that I grew up in a cabin. It's not that my husband did either. We both grew up in a 60's style home. But, we love the "feel"; it's homey, warm and cozy.  Everywhere we look is a heart's desire that we have had over the years; things that only God could have known. Living in the mountains has been a dream of ours, (mine mostly). I would say for at least forty years. I'll never forget one morning I got up and turned on my computer and this property was the first thing that I saw. It just came out of no where. We asked our realtor to show it to us. He didn't know anything about it because it belonged to another realty company. I think it was almost the last house we looked at on our two week journey for a cabin. We loved the ride into the cabin as much as the house itself; the mountain range, low valleys, pruned vineyard, green pastures, playful horses, grazing cows, bubbly streams, little wooden bridges, so so pretty. We turned onto Old Camp Town and as we climbed the mountain, not too far up, there it was, right smack dab in the middle of an old campground. The stone-terraced walls all around the property were picturesque. I couldn't help but think about how long it must have taken to build each one; each rock strategically placed.   I could almost hear the children's voices echoing outside; "Here dad use this stone. It's a pretty one." My husband has a barn up on the hill and I even have a little "craft" building. Just perfect for the two of us.When we get tired of each other we will have a place to go 💕 My little building was actual the building used to take up the money as the guest arrived at the campground. So much history. And in the middle of all this nostalgia...our little cabin. It was truly love at first sight. In the campgrounds "hay day" it was the bath house. It was remodeled but they kept the authentic orange pottery-style tiles in the bathroom and kitchen. The floor to ceiling stone fireplace in the living room was definitely the first thing I loved about the inside of the cabin. It was made with stones from outside. In fact the same stones that the terraced walls were made of. This is the first fireplace that I have ever had of my own. I know this sounds a little eccentric, but the first couple of nights that we stayed in our cabin, the fire had not gone out when it was time for us to go to bed. I told my husband I was going to stay up a little longer. The truth was that I couldn't stand to waste one ounce of that beautiful fire burning in the living room with me in the bed not seeing it. So, I watched it until there was nothing left but ashes and soot. It reminded me of when I was just married and my children were small, I would go to mama's and daddy's house and sit on the hearth as the fire blazed hot against my back. No matter what was going on in my life it seemed as if all was right with the world at that moment. A fire in a fireplace has that kind of effect on me. Our cabin was left furnished which was part of our deal with the sellers. We knew they would be leaving some goodies because we saw them in the house. But, there are some real treasures. Cabinets in the kitchen made with glass panes in the front. I remember asking my ex-husband when we built our home if I could have them in our kitchen. Don't remember exactly what he said but it was something like; they cost too much. Well, for whatever reason I didn't get them. There's this authentic wind-up phone on the wall that caught my husbands attention immediately.  As we plundered inside the phone, we saw all the working parts; an original Stromberg-Carlson. Whoever he is. It's definitely an antique. My husband was overwhelmed by it though. Not sure if it's because of his love for the things of the past or because of his career with the phone company. Whichever it is, he is in love. It's definitely a keeper. They left a lot of pictures on the walls; the ducks on the pond remind my husband of his wonderful mother and her love for ducks. I hung it in the hallway where he can see it from his chair. And the picture of the girl desperately climbing up the hill, longing for home. I loved it so much that I hung it over our bed. They also left old furniture; beds, a wooden chest, and a few other pieces. On the back porch are wooden rocking chairs. There is nothing else like rocking in a rocking chair on the porch. We have a beautiful view of the mountains in the distance and I hear water bubbling in the brook next door as it makes it way down the mountain to its final destination, a little pond. It was the swimming hole for the campers. When we were in town I found a hand-painted wooden plaque to put on my porch; Linger Longer. If I had a motto that would be mine. There is nothing in life that I enjoy doing more than just taking my time and really enjoying the moment. Whether it be rocking on the porch with a cup of coffee and quiet time with Jesus, watching the sunset at the beach with my mother and sister, having a dinner by the lake with my husband or sitting around the campfire with family and friends. Whatever it may be, it just seems to get better with the lingering. Our North Carolina friends were the first couple to have dinner with us in our new home. They were the perfect couple to help us christen it.  Everything about our first stay in our little home was perfect. Well almost everything, except for one little thing.  I  call it the, "demon of the microwave." The microwave left in the home was not working. So, we took it to the barn along with other things we didn't want or need. We went to Wal-mart and purchased a larger, nicer, microwave the next day. The next morning my husband went to warm up his egg, ham, and cheese biscuit only to discover the microwave came on but wouldn't get warm. We toted that microwave around the house to several different outlets. It still didn't work. We figured it had to be an electrical problem since it was a brand new one. I was ready to lay my hands on it and pray for it. We happened to mention to the Fire Chief that we ran into the next day that we were having microwave problems. He said that he would think about someone that might could help us. Next morning bright an early someone appeared at our door. Who might it be but an electrician. He was definitely a Godsend. Not only did he check out the electricity coming into our house but fixed our hot water heater element, which had totally burned into, which could have easily caused a fire. He fixed our ice maker, kitchen sink faucet, and replaced two new plugs in the bathroom. He found no problem with our electricity. A neighbor came by the next day and took both microwaves to his house just to see if they would work. They didn't. Never heard of it before, but our brand new microwave was torn up. We decided to go to a small store downtown where we purchased a much smaller microwave and finally... it worked!!!!  No, it's not the fanciest home. It doesn't have the best view in the mountains. It doesn't even have a little bridge out front that crosses a bubbling brook. Actually, it's a small little cabin in the middle of an old campground, full of history, nevertheless. It's not just a cabin though ...it's the cabin of our dreams...the one God picked out just for us. We might have "wondered around" a little in our life, but like the girl in the picture that hangs over our bed, we are finally home 💑

sammie jean

it's a boy...

 My son and daughter-in-law told me they had an early Christmas gift for me as they pulled me off to the side. They handed me a picture in a frame. It was a picture of an ultrasound. It was a picture of their baby; our grandchild. It was the best Christmas present! We were just a little excited, to say the least! It's been a long time since my husband and I have had a baby in our family; almost twelve years to be exact. A few months later, she asked us if we wanted to go with them to find out the gender of the baby. I answered without hesitation, "Yes." I wouldn't miss that for the world. We walked into the room and encircled the bed where our daughter-in-law lay, all eyes were on her and her tummy. All ten to be exact! All of us staring with nervous anticipation; daddy, both grandparents and sister. And then there he was on the screen, active as could be; little arms waving and little legs running, it seemed. We oohed and awed, all giddy with excitement. After what seemed like hours she told us the gender. She circled the important parts and wrote on the screen, "It's a boy." We all clapped and cheered. I was filled with a lot of emotion. It was a pretty big deal. I remembered a very similar time. Thirty-one years ago I lay in the bed, as the technician "jellied up" my belly. I was so excited to hear what we were having. We already had a girl. Our daughter was seven years old. I was twenty-nine. We hadn't even talked about the gender. I was just so excited to be pregnant again, I hadn't had time to even think about it. With watchful eyes we followed her every move as she placed pictures of our little baby on the screen. She closely looked all over its body. And then she stopped and she said, "Do you see that?" "Yes," we said, "But, what is that?" we asked. "It's a little boy." Oh my...I don't really remember what I said. It was probably because I was speechless. I do remember what my husband said though. He said, "Are you telling me that I am going to have a son?" "Yes, that's what I am telling you." Not sure, but he probably asked that same question a few more times. We both were ecstatic!!! Let me explain why that was such a big deal to us. First of all, every man wants a son and because we already had a daughter, I wanted a son too. But, not only was I excited for us, I was so excited for my daddy. You see my daddy had been a coach for many years. He was an athlete in high school and college and very passionate about boys sports. I'm sure he wanted a son. Bless his heart he had two girls. My mama was very happy with two girls, I must add. When their first child was a girl, that was fine. But, when their second child was a girl too, I'm sure my daddy said, "Put her back." "I want a son." Just kidding. However, he did want a son very badly. You know how I know that? I'm living proof. They named me Sammie. My daddy's name was Sam. So, just as you would expect, I was a tomboy. Sorta. I tried really hard to be a good athlete. Sorta.  But, more important than anything else, I tried really hard to please him. I would have tried to climb the highest mountain for my dad. It was very important for me to prove myself worthy of my namesake. After my sister was married, her and her husband had two daughters. Then I got married and we had a daughter, also. My dad had two daughters and three granddaughters and then...finally came a little boy. I just had to give him my surname, there just wasn't another name suitable for him. I knew it would mean a lot to my daddy. They became quite the pair. He loved his time over at papa's and nana's house; fishing in the pond, swimming in the pool, playing all around my daddy as he worked in the yard and his fish house. Not only was he just a little spoiled but a little prankster too; setting traps in the yard hoping he would get his papa hung up in one of them. I often wondered what he would have done if he had of actually caught him. My daddy was a very large man so I'm sure there would not have been a chance of that. They just enjoyed each others company.  His papa and his daddy took him fishing and hunting. They both instilled in him a deep love for the outdoors. One that he still enjoys today. Just like his papa, he was a very good athlete. Good in baseball, football, and basketball. Baseball became his real love though. Like his granddaddy and his daddy, he was a very good pitcher. His papa and nana were at every game cheering him on. Of course, his daddy and I didn't miss a game either.  I'll never forget when he first started playing t-ball, (his hat bigger than he was), he was all over the field. It was obvious that he thought it was his responsibility to play every position. I remember clearly the coach telling me one night after the game that he had something real special.  Yes, he was definitely a special little boy. This morning I was reminded of what the Lord told me when he was a small baby. He put in my heart, that when I prayed over him to say, "Mitchell, you are a mighty man of God." I tried to always remember to do that. As he grew, especially through the teen years, I remember many times reminding God of what He had said, (like he didn't remember.) As we stood in that small room with my son, daughter-in-law, her mama and sister, it wasn't a formality.  It was a sacred occasion. One that I will always cherish. Dear son, my prayer for you is that the Lord burn in your heart those words fresh and anew; that you will always be the strong husband for your wife and loving father for your son.  Dear daughter, you are a precious soul. Dear grandson, I love you. The three of you have my heart always ❤

mama

2017 in pictures

TWO THOUSAND SEVENTEEN...

We did it...

New home in Talogia

 Family reunion. My Uncle Mitch. The only child left of the family.

Snow moon...one of many moon pics 

New flower bed.

spring break visit from grands

60th BD catch Talogia Creek

Spring day

The "Big 60" in Vegas

Lifelong dream at 60

construction

Always working ❤

critter friends

Mama, sister, and I at the beach
doing one of our favorite things
eating 😃

mama enjoying life on the beach 

Mia enjoying life in the woods

Love my wildflowers

Project accomplished
"His mercies are new every morning"

Family visit

Gorgeous sunsets

and more critters

BGF'S beach bash

Micah at summer church camp

Beautiful additions to our family

Boys visit

Mitchell's BD Mexican style

three week stay in North Carolina

Greg's fav in NC

solar eclipse, Franklin, NC

Micah football 8th grade

Malachi football 9th grade

New York, NY
with sweet friends

Big trip for sister and I
the "Big Apple"

Celebration of Life

Greg walking our new property
in NC

Special moments
Greg's BD with family

Micah first basketball, 8th grade

long awaited movie with Mia, "Wonder"

First Christmas in Talogia

Christmas Party in Talogia
Greg's
Family and My family
Hope it's a tradition ❤

...and then there was baby D 💕💑❤
what an end to 2017
Love him/her ❣

My children's grandfather died this year. I walked into his room to visit him. His niece walked up to me and said, "he just passed." I stood at the bed arm and arm with his sister. Tears filled our eyes. I told her that I just wanted to say "hello." It had been a while since I had done that. Instead I had to say"good-bye." Life is so uncertain. Everything can change so quickly. 2017... year of many first and last. Good-bye's and hellos. A year of endings and new beginnings. A year of restoration. Special time with family and friends; old ones and new ones. Father God, you've stretched us. You've shown us new paths. You've blessed us ☙

forever grateful ❤

sammie jean