Dear Grandson

Happy Birthday!

 Eighteen years ago I met you for the very first time. The prettiest baby boy. The first thing I saw as you were birthed from your mother’s womb was one huge dimple, on your left cheek. Soft, curly, black hair. Beautiful, brown skin. My first grandson. It was love at first sight.

 I had had nine months to get use to the idea of having a grandchild. To be honest with you, it wasn’t that easy at first. I’m not professing to have handled it with much grace. Your mama was 22 and unmarried. I can still hear her now, "Mama, I'm pregnant." It rang in my ears and burdened my heart for a very long time.  She had been living with your daddy. I didn’t really know him well, but because he had other children that were living with their grandmother, I was concerned about what kind of daddy he was going to be, if one at all. He was African American. I got off the phone with her. And I cried for months. I even pleaded with God. You have to understand how it was for me, being raised in the south in the 60’s. Black and white people were just beginning to go to school together, drink from the same water fountain and eat in the same restaurant. It was just the culture of our time. Races didn’t mix much. Even though, our housekeeper/baby sitter was a black woman that kept me when I was young and I had a lot of black friends in high school, we didn’t go home with each other to spend the night. I didn’t know of any bi-racial couples. It was foreign to me. I don’t think I had ever seen a mixed child before. Like I said, I had nine months to let it all sink in. After I saw you for the first time, all my fears melted on the floor like a pile of white snow in a warm room.  I was totally smitten.

You were a fun-loving, happy child. Chunky cheeks and legs. Not overweight. But just the right amount of pudginess to make you want to get a pinch or two. You did love to eat. I can’t think of anything that you didn’t like. You loved to talk. The only problem was, we couldn’t understand you. You created a language all your own for the imaginative world you lived in. You were very busy. It was really hard to rein you in. Maybe we didn’t try very hard. You loved the outdoors, so that is where you spent a lot of your time, catching  bugs...anything that had had six legs; maybe a spider or lizard too. I can hear you now, "Ammie, can I have a jar?" You faithfully asked every time you set foot in my house. I opened the cabinet to look through my collection of jars and plastic butter tubs that I had saved just for you, punched a whole in the top and you were off. Off on another critter hunt. No bug was safe when you were around. You have always loved to fish. I guess the very first place that you ever fished was in the pond at your nana and papa’s house. The day you caught your first catfish, hooked you for life. Do you remember picking up colorful fall leaves on our walks? Acorns too. Picnics. Swimming. You were a friendly little boy. I remember telling you and your brother at a lake one time. "Now, you don't have to talk to everyone you see in the water. You can just swim and have fun.” The next thing I knew you would be all up in someone's conversation. It was useless for me to ever say anything. This great big world has always been your playground.

 It brought me great enjoyment to be in the same school with you. Since I was teaching there, I was able to be there on your first day of Kindergarten and your last day of 5th grade. And Summer school. You got at least 6 years of summer school because I was teaching it. It wasn’t that bad. We had fun visiting the library and playing with friends. School was always a little difficult for you. You’re definitely kin to your Ammie. If we aren't using our hands or our imagination, then forget it! Most things just don't keep our attention. Organization is not our forte either.  I remember going to your kindergarten class and looking in your cubby on occasion. Papers were smashed in there deep and wide. Never could keep up with anything. "Where's your folder?" "Where's your library book,” I asked more times than I care to remember. They were no where to be found.  Organization wasn’t your thing but singing and dancing was. I'm sure you were popular in kindergarten because of your dance moves. I loved watching you dance. You were not the least bit bashful. Ready to share your talent with anyone that would watch. Science has always been your love. So glad that you had a great science teacher. You really enjoyed his class. You enjoyed him too. He liked you.  You found your talent in sports; especially baseball. You were a really good pitcher. I’ll never forget the night I saw you hit your first home run. It was pretty amazing. It brought back a lot of memories. Watching you pitch and all.  It was just the natural thing to do, to stay at the baseball fields. I had done it for over 15 years with your uncle.  I’m so sorry that you felt like you couldn’t stay in school and that for some reason you felt like you weren’t getting the support you needed to finish.  I haven’t walked in your shoes, so I don’t understand how you feel. But, I do know that you can do whatever you set your mind to do, so don’t ever give up on finishing school. It is never too late. You have a lot of unique talents. Just like when you were a small child, you have to find your place again.

I was blessed to get to take you to church when you were younger. You have always had a kind and tender heart toward the things of the Lord. I love how you love Jesus. I’m so glad that God brought Pawpaw into our lives. I know that he was tough at times. But, I don’t think there was ever a time that he didn’t hug you and tell you he loved you after he disciplined you. God knew that we needed him in our lives. Tough love had never been in mine or your mama’s vocabulary. I’m pretty sure he had a little wisdom that we both needed. We have had a lot of fun too. The fire pit in the back yard became your stage. You, your brother and sister entertained us. He was always amazed at your talents of improvisation; story telling, dancing, and singing. The back porch became our sanctuary.  Visits from the red birds caught our watchful eye and a picture or two. Polar Express and hot chocolate became our yearly tradition. Watching Super Man with “the boys” was a highlight for him. You have brought a lot of joy to our lives.

I’m so sorry about all the tough things that you, your brother, and little sister have had to go through. They are not easily understood. But one thing I know without a doubt is God never allows things to happen that are outside of his plan for our lives. He uses each one for our good. I remember one night in particular that we made a circle and held hands and prayed. He stored those precious tears in bottles that night. And every night since then. Your mama has had a really hard time raising three children alone. It has been harder for her than I can imagine. I’m sorry that you have a daddy that hasn’t been there for you. And a grandfather too. All we can do is pray. Pray that they find Jesus. Pray that one day they come to you and tell you how much they love you. You were not named Malachi by accident. Malachi 4: 6 says He will turn the hearts of the fathers to their children, and the hearts of their children to their fathers. This can be our prayer.

You were never an accident. You are not inferior to anyone. You are loved by an awesome Heavenly Father. Always remember…Jesus is the only one that has the answer, always ask Him.

I saw a Facebook post the other day that said, in my own words, God gave me a special needs child because my heart needed a lot of work done on it. I really understand that. God gave me a "special situation" because my heart needed work done on it. I thank God for you. More than you will ever know.

My kitchen is always open for you. Who knows…I might can even find a jar or two 💝

Happy Birthday!

love you forever,
 ammie

i love music...

Music does something to me. It takes me to a place that nothing else can. I have been passionate about it for as long as I can remember. I wish that I could sing. I mean really sing. I must have thought I could as a child. I sang Bobby Gentry songs in the auditorium at school. Can you believe I sang Harper Valley PTA? None other than at a PTA meeting. Who in the world let me do that?  I sang hymns at church. One of my very favorites goes like this, "As I come to the garden alone, with dew still on the roses, he walks with me and He talks with me and tells me I am his own." Beautiful lyrics. I wish that I could play an instrument too. I took piano lessons for way more years than I want to admit. And the money my parent's probably spent on me to no avail. I still can't play. My piano teacher use to tell me, "If you practiced playing the piano as much as you rode your bike you would probably be good at it." Well obviously, I valued my outdoor play time at a much higher value than my piano time. I can't think of anything more heavenly than to sing and play and instrument.  I remember our first stereo. It came with albums of songs from the sixties. I thought that I had died and gone to heaven, lying in the middle of our hard wood floor in the den with no rug on it, listening to those songs over and over. Dean Martin and Moon River was timeless. I couldn't have been much older than 10 but it was music to my ears. You Ain't Nothing But a Hound Dog too. I know why I loved him though. My mama and sister were obsessed with Elvis Presley. I can still hear the amazing voice of Roy Orbison singing Pretty Woman on the jukebox at the little hamburger and french fry teenage hang-out my mama and daddy owned across from the school. After the ball games it was flooded with kids that were hungry for food and a good time. I only wanted to go home and get in my bed. I still love that song though. There isn't one time that I can think of that music hasn't played an important part of what was going on in my life.  I loved gospel music when I was younger. I use to attend a local all night gospel sing. I went with my sister and her friends. We put our lawn chairs out early to mark our spot. We came later with picnic baskets full of food. I can hear it now..."if it wasn't for the lighthouse where would this ship be." That was a defining song for me. Sunday mornings I sang out of a hymn book and Sunday night I sang gospel music at another church nearby. My sister sang in a gospel group with three of her friends. Their lives and music had a huge impact on me.  I remember when I attended a church in the eighties with my small daughter. We fell in love with the music. There was something so different about it. I had only sang hymns and gospel style music. Some of the songs were very upbeat, clap your hands, songs of praise, but the ones I fell in love with were the slower songs. The words were right out of the bible. The lyrics touched me right where I was. I remember singing, "as the deer panteth for the water, so my soul longeth after thee." My heart just melted on the floor. It was there that I actually learned about worship. Every Sunday I felt like I joined with the angels to sing in a heavenly choir. I was totally smitten. Forever, in love with Jesus. My little daughter and I sat on the steps of our double-wide mobile home day after day and sang and sang. They forever left a mark on us. Contemporary Christian music became my very favorite, listening in my car, on my walks, at the beach, everywhere I went. Thank you Lord for Pandora. And what in the world would we watch on TV if it weren't for the The Voice and American Idol? All the different genres of music can be heard. In the mountains of North Carolina, I have been introduced to Blue Grass music. The violin is the instrument of the day. I just get lost in that sad, sultry sound. This week in Bible School our theme was Revelation 7:9, after this I beheld and lo a great multitude, which no man could number, of all nations, and kindred's, and people, and tongues stood before the throne and before the Lamb, clothed with white robes and psalms in their hands. (and singing to the top of their lungs)  What a choir that will be. Can't wait!!! I just know in Revelation when Jesus says "whoever has ears let him hear" it's so that we can hear all the beautiful music 😃

music is the melody of the heart so sing it

sammie jean

help my plans die...

I'm a planner. You would never know it. I don't appear very organized. I don't often share my plans. I just make them. Plans for myself. Plans for my husband. Plans for my children. Grandchildren. Some times they actually happen. You know one of the neatest things about the "golden years" as they call them, is many things just don't matter as much any more. I think God got it backwards. We should have this wonderful confidence when we're younger, when we have a body full of vim and vigor to go along with it. We could change the world! But, as we know, wisdom doesn't come over night. I realize now what Solomon was talking about. Things in this life are not near as important as we think they are.

Every since I told Jesus that I wanted to step out of the boat I was tired of the same old thing day in and day out. He's been there. I've stopped planning...as much. I've finally realized I wasn't doing anything much, I was just planning. Now I try to actually "take a step." It seems to get a little easier each time. I remember selling our house. Moving to a different town where we only knew a few family members. Starting a new church where we only knew our grandson. And...moving into a camper. All of it an exciting-apprehensive kinda feeling. It reminds me of the creak waters that I grew up swimming in. Couldn't wait to climb the rope hanging from the large oak tree or jump in with inner-tube in hand. Even though I knew it was freezing cold. When I finally jumped in...it literally took my breath away. It was always worth it!

 I remember how hard it was for me to take the first grade position at the local school in January this year. Very insecure to say the least. First of all I hadn't taught in over 3 years and I hadn't taught first grade for over 20. Not to even mention that I only knew 3 people at the school.  Was it hard? I don't have enough time or enough words to tell you how hard it was. I did remember for the first eight weeks asking God, "Have I done the right thing?" I kept leaning on Him. I mean literally. It was like I felt  Him holding my body up every single day as I limped into the classroom every morning and dragged myself home every afternoon. I prayed as I drove down our little dirt driveway, "Lord, help me. I can't do this without you."

         It was a most rewarding experience.

This week I'm teaching bible school. Doesn't sound like a big deal does it? But, for me it is. This time I'm actually teaching the bible lesson. Yes, I'm a teacher but something about teaching the bible, I feel all insecure about. I figured it's about time though. If I want to travel to other parts of the world to tell them about God's love, I better start in my own little hometown. So last night we talked about how God so loves His creation that He puts roadblocks in our lives for us to stop and examine our ways. He is definitely a God of second chances. I am enthralled with the story about the Tower of Babel. He told them not to build it. So much like human nature, they did it anyway. So, He confused their languages so that they couldn't continue on in their path of disobedience.

         I still feel so inadequate...but I am learning to trust Him more and more.

 Our church and everyone around this area has been praying for a little baby that was born to a precious family a few months back.  His brain not functioning properly. His little body not able to perform the functions that we just take for granted. The family had him, to love on him for only a short two months before he went home to be with Jesus. Of course, this was not their plans. I watched and listened to this devoted family embrace God's plans rather than their own. His ways are not our ways is not just a favorite little bible verse that rolls off our tongue with ease from memory to them... it is their reality.

         Lord, please help me let my plans die so that I can truly have yours.

something unexpectedly, beautiful always happens ♥

sammie jean