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 

Dear 2017

Dear 2017,

Wow, what a journey this has been. Moving to a new town, into the woods and living in a camper has been quite the experience or I should say...an eye opener, for sure. I've learned a whole lot about myself. And we've learned a whole lot about each other, my husband and I. We knew quickly that this would be a make or break situation for us. You learn things about someone living in a 25 x 8 (or so) that you never knew, no matter how long you have been married. And speaking of small spaces... it's definitely the bathroom. I don't like to close the door because I get a little claustrophobic, but if you don't...well, let me just say, your business becomes everyone's business. I knew that I had to get organized and fast. It's funny to hear me say that. Organization is not my forte. My husband is the organized one. He built us a walk-in closet. Now my clothes are neatly hung up. Even separated into seasons. We love our tiny bedroom with our little comfy, cozy bed. And my kitchen.. an open floor plan for sure; the kitchen and den are one. I have a small oven in my kitchen. My oven and I have  become pretty good friends though.  It's funny how I've cooked things on it that I never cooked before when I had a larger oven. I made my first sweet potato pie ever. In fact didn't even know I liked it. It was always my mamas and sisters favorite. Made my first batch of tea cake cookies. Always loved my granny's. And can't begin to tell you how many egg custard pies I've made. My absolute favorite. I have even found myself washing, cutting, and cooking turnip greens.  I guess I have returned to my roots, enjoying now all the things that I had growing up. My daddy always loved to hunt and fish in this area. I understand why. We love the outdoors too. Hubby on his tractor. Me in my flower bed. I have found a new love...gardening. I planted wildflowers this spring. It took them a long time to come up. They didn't come up at the same time either. So much spontaneity, it seemed. Some big, some small, some yellow, some crimson, some tall, some short. Never knew exactly what to expect. So beautiful. There were a lot of life lessons learned in my flower bed this year. Love my little critters too. We have a grey lizard that lives on the wooden post on the edge of the front porch. We watched him everyday. He quickly became a friend of the family. The birds, deer, all of God's creatures...it's like seeing them for the first time. I can't get enough pictures. Everywhere I look is a picture opportunity or something to write about. I love my morning walks. I honestly think that it and my talk each morning with Jesus has made me a better person. My husband built a large, wooden, front porch. He loves to build and is very good at it. We have practically lived on it, especially in the fall and spring. It wasn't long after we moved in, my husbands family came over one night and we sat on the front porch and talked. I just kinda knew what God was up to. I was pretty sure that He wanted to restore all those lost years. It felt so right that night. It still feels right. My husband dreams of building a cabin on this land. I do too. I hope our dream comes true. I have pretty much my whole life lived a very short distance from my whole family. It's easy to take that for granted a little.  My family is doing just fine without seeing me every week. I appreciate them a whole lot more than I did before. Maybe they do me too. You know sometimes you don't really appreciate what you have until it's gone...(or it just moves a little further away.)  I went over to see my mother every other day when I lived close by her. This Christmas was the first time in my life that I packed up my car to go home. I've always heard people talk about it; songs are written about it, stories penned, movies are made about it. Well I finally got to do it. There I was, one early morning, sitting on the couch in her den, just a day before Christmas, fireplace ablaze, Christmas tree lit, my mother and a cup of freshly made hot coffee, when I realized... there is no place like home. Home is where your heart is. And my mother is truly the heartbeat of our family. I can't imagine life without her. You know those "warm fuzzy's" that you get sometime? Well, I got them. This year at Christmas, I also got to have my live Christmas tree outside on the porch of our new home in the woods. I had envisioned it for a while; all decorated with large colored lights, little stick legged reindeer, glittered pine cones, and Borax crystals looked "plum pretty," I thought. The "crafty" side of me came out.  My daughter was so sweet when she came to visit us the night of our outside movie with all our family. She said, "Mama, your front porch is so pretty. It looks like it came right out of a magazine." My nephew-in-love told me that he noticed all the detail in the decorations. Thinking about it...you know that is what this year has been all about, "noticing all the details." Thanks for that ♡ I'll never forget when we first started going to the church in the small town here. It was a Wednesday night, our pastor told us that we were going to take church to an elderly woman that was "shut-in". I remember walking into her living room as we all gathered around her to sing. She sat in her recliner all bundled up; old and frail. We sang timeless hymns, as our pastor played the guitar. Her eyes strong and alert, scanning the room to see all the love around her. I didn't even know her and loved her. The presence of the Lord was so tangible. I couldn't help but cry. I had never done anything like that before. Thank you Lord for our new church family.  I'm learning to look for His love everywhere; on faces and places all around me.  I guess if I had to choose my very, most favorite thing, about this year, it would have to be our nights out by the campfire, gazing into the pitch dark night sky. Two chairs. A blazing fire. A couple of hooting owls. And billions upon billions of brilliant, dancing stars. Breathtakingly beautiful. And the super moon too. Standing on the porch, watching it rise in the east, just over the treetops...it's like you could reach out and touch it. We stood out in our yard and prayed a year ago, right after we moved here, "Lord, thank you for this land that you have given us. We are dedicating it back to you for you to use for your glory," my husband said. We will forever cherish it. And this beautiful year that we have had. Life might be simple and laid back here but what I've learned about myself has been worth more than money could ever buy.  I've learned that it's not the size of my house but rather the size of my heart. We are "living larger" than ever before. And my husband?  I love him even more today 💕  Thank you Father God for this year. It has been amazing.

forever grateful,
sammie jean

back to 1976...

We took our granddaughter today to see the movie Wonder, based on the book written by Raquel Palacio. I have been trying to get her to read the book since May and she only recently bought it and read it. It is now November, almost Thanksgiving. It is a must see movie. Especially for young preteens and teenagers. Middle school age especially.  I wanted her to see it because it deals with so many issues that kids that age have to deal with. However, it's the kind of movie that has something for everyone. In my opinion, If you can't find an issue dealt with in the story then all I can say is you live a perfect life (whatever that is) or you are just sweeping your stuff under the rug. Close to the end of the movie the older sister that was dealing with her own set of problems in the family, kinda fell into the part of Emily Webb (without giving too much away). Emily is a character in the play, Our Town, a play that her school was performing. As she recited the monologue I remembered when I was a little girl and my mother and her high school students performed this play. As a side note, the play was written the year I was born. Oh well,  I guess it had an impact on me even at that young of an age because in 1976 I recited the same monologue in my drama class in the community college nearby where I was attending. During the movie as she recited it, I was immediately transported back. I remembered how nervous I was. I also remembered the emotion I felt while I was reciting it. I could feel her pain too. I relived it all. I must have done a pretty good job because my teacher asked me to recite it again in front of the whole student body during a drama expo. That was 41 years ago.  Who was that 19 year old girl? Not sure I remember. One thing I do know though is I am so thankful for how far I have come.

monologue by Emily Webb from the play Our Town written by Thornton Wilder, 1957
Emily died in child birth and was given a chance to go back home to a time she remembered.

I can't bear it. They're so young and beautiful. Why did they ever have to get old? Mama, I'm here. I'm grown up. I love you all, everything. I can't look at everything hard enough. Oh, Mama, just look at me one minute as though you really saw me. Mama, fourteen years have gone by. I'm dead. You're a grandmother, Mama. I married George Gibbs, Mama. Wally's dead too. Mama, his appendix burst on a camping trip to North Conway. We felt just terrible about it - don't you remember? But, just for a moment now we're all together. Mama, just for a moment we're happy. Let's look at one another. I can't. I can't go on. It goes so fast. We don't have time to look at one another. I didn't realize. All that was going on in life and we never noticed. Take me back - up the hill - to my grave. Good-bye, Grover's Corners. Mama and Papa. Good-bye to clocks ticking. and Mama's sunflowers. And food and coffee. And new-ironed dresses and hot baths. And sleeping and waking up. Oh, earth, you're too wonderful for anybody to realize you. Do any human beings ever realize life while they live it? Every, every minute? I'm ready to go back. I should have listened to you. That's all human beings are Just blind people.

Thank you Father for opening my eyes and heart to see you!  For healing me of all the pain. (I don't have to go back, ever, ever again)  I hope and pray that I can live the rest of my life with my "eyes wide open." ♡

sammie jean

it might be tradition... but it never gets old

 I love this time of year. It's my favorite. There is a special feeling in the air. Everything looks so pretty. Houses all lit up, everyone dressed all festive in red, even deer antlers mounted to vehicles. Everyone seems to be a little nicer. We even seem to have a little more patience with each other. A little more generous too. We want every little child to have something for Christmas. Even grumpy people that wouldn't think about giving one extra penny to their neighbor just can't seem to pass by the Salvation Army bucket at the local store. I love the nativity scene out on the lawn at church, the wreaths with there big bows on the door, singing Joy to the World, and a sermon about Joseph, Mary, and Jesus. It doesn't matter how many times I have heard it... It never gets old. None of it gets old. I grew up in a home where Christmas was a big deal. I remember us going out in the woods when I was young to hunt for the perfect tree. Daddy, Mama, sister, I and even the hunting dogs trudged through the thick woods. Came back home and decorated it. Mama put our gifts under the tree on Christmas Eve. She placed everything neatly in its perfect place. My sister had a side and I had a side. Nothing was wrapped because she always said, "Santa doesn't wrap his gifts." I wish that I could remember my favorite toy. I know it had to have been a bicycle or a doll that I dressed and undressed over and over again.  My sister and I slept in the same bed for way more years than we want to admit, even though we had our own rooms. But Christmas Eve was special. I had to read Twas the Night Before Christmas before going to bed.  I remember lying there and talking to my sister. She would try to get me to hush and go to sleep. "You know Santa won't come if you're still awake," she would say. But, as the story goes, "sugar plums danced in my head" along with thoughts of what was under the tree. I swore that  I could hear Santa and the reindeer on our roof. Couldn't go to sleep save my life. When we were older we realized that it wasn't Santa at all. It was mama busy at work opening bags, closet doors, pulling out the hidden stash from every corner and crevice of the house.  Mama hung stockings over the fireplace too. When we were really young she filled our stockings with fruit and candy because that is what her and daddy got in their stockings. I remember my sister and I asking her one Christmas to not put fruit and candy in our stockings. You know she never put another apple in our stocking again. She didn't even tell us how rotten we were. But, she didn't have to...we were. The truth is mama and daddy were happy for their candy canes and oranges. I often heard them say, especially my daddy that that was all he got for Christmas. I would love to tell my daddy, if I could, "thank you" for the fruit and the other neat stuff in our stockings. You and mama made Christmas extra special.  As long as my granny and poppy were living and after we were finished with Santa we went to their house for Christmas dinner. All of daddy's family was there. My granny and poppy bought everyone a gift. I know that must have been difficult for them on their meager salary. Even after all of us grandchildren got married, my granny continued to buy us something for Christmas. I remember one of the last gifts I got from her was a punch bowl set. I still cherish it today. I carried much of the same traditions with me into my own home with my own children. Looking for the perfect Christmas tree at a tree farm. Until it became such a mess to deal with. We resorted to a store bought one. It didn't smell like Christmas, but it worked.  Just like mama, I filled the stockings with special treats and I carefully laid the gifts out never wrapping them; one side for my daughter and one side for my son. Never wrapping them, until they talked me into opening one gift on Christmas Eve, of which we always did in our new flannel Christmas pj's. I loved teaching especially during Christmas. Our classroom tree was full of handmade ornaments; glitter galore.  Making from scratch sugar cookies was my favorite thing to do. I rolled the dough out and they cut stars, angels, Christmas trees, holly and decorated them with red, green, white icing with sprinkles on top. The Best Christmas Pageant Ever was a must read. It got us in the Spirit of Christmas every year as we experienced the joy and excitement of little Gladys as she heard about the birth of baby Jesus for the very first time. When my grandchildren came along we continued the stocking and pajama tradition. We also continued the tradition of daddy taking everyone shopping. He always took mama, my sister and I shopping and after the grandchildren came along he took them by himself each year.  Because daddy grew up not having very much, he loved lavishing on the grand kids. He pretty much let them fill the buggy with what they wanted. One year my young son got lost in the store. When I heard about it I was terrified.  He was a good bit younger than the girls. I'm sure they just went on with their shopping never paying him any mind. And daddy... well let me just say he was being "daddy".  He was in his element. He was Santa Claus. We continued most traditions with our grandchildren adding a few new ones. Watching the movie, Polar Express together every year was one of them. Of course, we had to have hot chocolate to go with it. I can just see them now. My grand kids are dramatic, so they act out their favorite scenes of the movies they watch. Well this one is no exception. When the waiters start handing out the hot chocolate and dancing in the aisle of the train my grands would jump up and start dancing and singing too; "hot, hot chocolate" they would sing as they danced. This year we are going to move this tradition to our new home in the woods with an outdoor movie. Can't wait. Should be fun! Since my grand boys have gotten older and outgrown all the fun stuff my granddaughter and I make Christmas ornaments. Last year we made pine cone ornaments and this year we made crystal ornaments. Yes, I love Christmas. I love everything about it. I will do all the traditional things; sing Christmas songs,  bake special goodies,  decorate a tree,  buy gifts for my family. Maybe even buy gifts for my neighbors, for children in Africa and children down the street. But... it will never be "just routine." It never gets old.  I will make no excuses for my traditions. And my "over the top" excitement. Jesus is the reason for the season. He is worthy of my celebration. So....let's celebrate.

sammie jean

 He is my Savior.

Light of the World.

A love story...rewritten

*from my blog entry on 2/10/16

It wasn't my first time walking down the aisle. It was different this time. It might have been for the obvious reason, I was 52 years old. Or it could have been the pride that I felt for my son as he walked me down the aisle. Not sure. But, it was definitely different.  I saw him at church on Sunday. This new guy. He did look familiar but I didn't really pay much attention. Not that he wasn’t handsome. He was. I just glanced. Dare not to stare. I hadn't looked at a man like that in a very long time. Eleven years to be exact.  I had vowed with God that I wouldn't search for a mate. If He wanted me to have someone in my life, He would have to bring him to me. I know that sounds pretty staunch. I really believed it. My life was wrapped around raising my 16 year old son since our divorce. I was 40 years old.  It didn't seem likely that I would marry again. I was okay with that. I came home from a Fall Festival at the school where I was teaching. I went to my phone to receive my messages. There was his name. I stood frozen. Although I hadn't paid much attention to him at church. We had only talked briefly about unimportant things like me needing to get a tree cut down in my yard. There was something that came over me. It was so different this time seeing his name on my caller ID in my own home. I know this is going to sound real weird, but I knew. I thought about how Elizabeth must have felt when her baby leaped in her stomach when she saw Mary whom was pregnant with Jesus.  It pales in comparison but it was a sacred occasion for me. God had chosen this man for me. I was ninety-nine percent sure. I didn't return the call that night. The next night either. I never did. If this was meant to be, it would be. Insecurely optimistic, I prayerfully moved forward. You know, God has a good sense of humor. This almost stranger and I had grown up together around 35 years ago. We knew it, but as we became better acquainted,  it was like we were hearing it for the very first time. We became kids again reminiscing about living in a small town in the south, swimming in the same icy cold creek, and attending the same school, kindergarten through 12th grade. Our parents knew each other and my dad was even his little league baseball coach. Our paths just never really crossed. He was four years older than me; closer to my sister's age. We started dating. I can still hear him as he asked me on our first date. "Can you come over Saturday night, I will cook for you?" I had never had a man cook for me. Dating was so new. I married young the first time. Right out of high school. I had never dated very much. It didn't take me long to realize though that this definitely was not teenage love. He had a maturity about him and confidence to boot. I loved his salt and pepper grey hair. He smiled with a sexy slight wink with his right eye. I loved how easy he was to talk to. I remember telling him about a new book that I had just finished reading. It was my very favorite of all time. He wanted to read it. Our conversation over dinner was open and honest. The only flaw I could find in him was he didn't drink wine. I knew that either I would lose my taste for it or he would acquire a taste. Either way, he was a keeper. I wasn't planning on losing him.  We spent Christmas together. You will never guess what he bought me? Crystal wine goblets.  We shared dinner over candles and Christmas tree lights. It was very romantic. Our first kiss was simple and sweet. But, oh so satisfying. Everyone told me, "You look so radiant." We spent the weekend together in the Blue Ridge mountains where we rented a chalet. Celine Dion sang her heart out that night as we danced to a rhythm that only two people in love could feel. He asked me to marry him during a trip to visit my son in college. We both said, "Yes." My son and I. We married 8 months after I saw his name that night on my caller ID. As my son walked me down the aisle, reaching the front, my arm slid out of his arm and we hugged. He was no longer the only man in my life. God had truly brought me another one. There was no doubt about it. Precious words flooded my soul... Blessed is she who believed that the Lord would fulfill his promises to her. He did.


 Rewritten for possible entry in series entitled, " Love Stories" in Chicken Soup For the Soul. Whether they choose to publish it or not, it is a win/win situation for me. I ♥ loved ♥ writing it. It is dedicated to my faithful God and to my wonderful husband and friend.

💕 with my whole heart,
sammie jean

  

two great grandfathers...granddaddy & papa

  Our son grew up with two wonderful grandfathers; a granddaddy and a papa. Both living in the same town; One, down the driveway the other across the bridge. He was their first grandson, their namesake; carrying both their first and last names.Their pride and joy. His papa living across the bridge in a small little town where I grew up. A pond by his house and the creek across the road. My son loved the pond spending many hours catching catfish. I can just hear my son and his papa now as they fished down the creek, "Son, stay out of the trees," he would say. Because of his big voice, everyone heard it as well.  He was probably no older than 11 years old but he talked to him at times like he was at least forty. They were big buddies; he and his papa. He ate his first oyster with him, cleaned his first fish with him, baited his first hook with him, went on his first turkey hunt with him...a lot of first with this big man with great big hands. He knew that when he grabbed him on the shoulder and looked him in his eyes he was fixing to hear a whole lot of "papa's famous quotes." "I can still hear them," he says now. All those words that didn't mean much then have become, "wise words of wisdom." Words to live by.  My son, like my daddy, was a very good athlete. His papa coached young boys for many years. So, he was just another one of them; coaching him through baseball games, basketball games, and football games. I remember my son dedicating his senior high school football season to his papa. For although his papa never saw him quarterback the football team, he was definitely there in spirit. We all felt him. I remember walking into the hospital after receiving a call to come quickly. Daddy was not doing well. My son arrived before I did. When I got there and walked into the room, daddy was already gone. Mama, like she had done for over fifty years; stood by his side. I touched him one last time. Rubbed his hands. The hands that I had held just a few days before, clipping his nails.  As I turned around to leave the room, my eyes focused on my son, sitting on the floor, up against the wall. The look on his face said it all. He had lost someone that he greatly admired and aspired to be like. Our son grew up so close to his granddaddy's house that he could walk over to visit him whenever he wanted to. He was the kind of child that hardly ever watched cartoons on Saturday morning. Rather he grew up running and playing and using his imagination... the kind of great stuff little country boys are made of. His dad and granddad were both "hands-on" so, there was always something to do. I can just see him now, his granddaddy, as he drove over to the house to pick him up to go "bee-bobbin’." They would go over to his great grandmothers old wooden house and kill bees that were drilling holes in the wood on the porch. I don’t even remember what it looked like. It was one of those "famous gadgets" that he created. All I knew about it was, it worked. He came in the door bragging about their accomplishments. No matter what it was; whether helping out with the tree house to shoot the annoying coyotes or saving day old bread to feed the catfish, he was actively involved. He loved  baseball too; his granddaddy and his dad played, so it was natural for our son to catch the same bug. They pitched, so pitching was in his blood. His granddaddy worked with him; making some kind of contraption with a string and a ball. I can’t even tell you what it was for but it must of helped, for our son had  many years of pitching; high school and college, and even made it to the minor leagues. I can see his granddad and grandmother now in their lawn chair on the sidelines cheering him on; didn’t miss a game until they became to far for them to make them. Years later when he could not make his games, he kept a scrapbook with newspaper articles of his games. He made sure that he kept up with him; one way or the other. I walked into his hospital room after he had had a stroke. I wanted to say hello. It had been a while since I had seen him. I didn't make it in time. What I really wish I could have told him was, "thank you." I wish I could have told them both that, him and papa. Neither grandparent received the miracle of a healed body; more time on this earth. But, there was a miracle...the miracle of time. Time spent planting seeds into a little boy's life. No one can ever take that away. Those memories will last forever. And, without a doubt, I feel confident that he will pass them on one day.

 Thought of this song by Josh McCreery, 
Time rolls by the clock don’t stop, I wish I had a few more drops, of the good stuff, the good times, oh but they just keep on flying, right on by like it ain’t nothing, wish I had a pause button, moments like those Lord knows I’d hit it, yeah sometimes this old life will leave you wishing... that you had five more minutes.

love you always,
mama