Cleaning Out The Clutter...Rewritten

I started thinking about it yesterday when the inspector was inspecting our house for the buyer to make sure that everything worked properly before they purchased it.  He looked in every crook and cranny. He opened every door, window, went on the roof and in the attic. It was thorough. He told me it would feel invasive and he wasn't kidding. As he inspected the house, I started sorting through years and years of saved stuff. Moving is a huge deal. As I had seen the professionals do, I kept three boxes close by; a box for things I wanted to keep, a box of definite get rid of (I wondered why I still had them), and a lot of maybes. We decided that we would sell our furniture so that we wouldn't have to store anything.  It would just be easier that way. As I took inventory of what to keep and what to get rid of, I found some pearls of great price. There were a couple of treasures that I couldn't part with.  One was the chair that I had kept from the house I grew up in. This heirloom was my mothers favorite chair in our house. She curled up in it in pajamas early every morning before sunrise with a cup of coffee and her bible in hand as she had her devotion by the big picture window in the living room, It was her prayer closet, where she prayed for her family. I'm sure of it. I spotted another piece of furniture as I looked across my bedroom. There stood my old hope chest at the foot of my bed. Mama and daddy got it for me when I was 16 years old.  Growing up I didn't really put that much in it; some stainless steel pots and pans that mama and daddy bought for me from a man selling them at the school where mama taught and daddy was principal, my cap and gown from high school and my diploma. I even put the pink baby dress that had been mine when I was a baby and some little white shoes in it.  Since I left home it had been nothing more than a cedar chest to store my winter clothes in and I hadn't thought about it for a very long time. Even if it had been in my life for 43 years.  Looking at it now, it somehow became a precious piece of furniture. It was definitely a keeper. My first thought was, I'll just give it to my granddaughter. I even explained to my granddaughter that I was going to give her a hope chest. She questioned, "What is a a hope chest?" We had a small history lesson about the cedar chest.  I told her how the Pilgrims came to America from England bringing their valuables in a chest made of cedar. They made these chest and used cedar because it was a good, plentiful, wood and would keep bugs out. Later the cedar chest became known as a "hope chest." I think I enjoyed sharing the information with her much more then she enjoyed hearing about it. A few days later, I felt a tender tug at my heartstrings that I should give it to my daughter, not my granddaughter. This caused a floodgate of memories to come rushing back to the years when my daughter was growing up and I was much younger. My husband and I had been married for three years and I was 22 years old. I wish that those times could have been happier times but they weren't. I was never really able to express to my daughter how special and loved that she was. I guess I didn't feel special either.  I was too focused on myself.  For most of my daughters life we have had conflict and have blamed each other for way too many things. Being prompted to do so, I called my daughter on the phone and asked her did she want my old hope chest. The first thing she said was, "Why are you giving it to me are you fixing to die?" I laughed and said, "Well, you never know but I want you to have it." I could hear a twinkle in her voice as she said, "Yes, I want it." After all these years I think that she felt that she was special to me. As I continued to go through my things, I uncovered a book that I bought for her in June of 1995, entitled "To My Daughter With Love." She was 16 years old. I had written in it some but good intentions gave way to the cares of life and I put it on the back burner. There it has been for 21 years. Upon finding it, I realized that God was really up to something. It was time to brush the dust off of it and begin once again. The book was written in three parts. The first part, about my mother, the middle part about myself, and ended with a section about my daughter.  In preparation to write about my mother, I spent hours talking to her about things in her past. Some things I could recollect and others I heard for the first time. In these hours I spent with her, I was very cognizant that it was all part of our journey to restore our relationship. Just like her old chair that I saved from our family home, we needed a fresh, new appreciation for one another. It was a time for us to reconnect in a way that we had not done in a very long time. To get to know each other as adults. Spending this precious time with my 85 year old mother was more important to me than all the hurts and disappointments of the past.  I realized that some of the same feelings that my daughter had toward me, I had toward my mother. Like all daughters, we just want to be special to our moms and for them to look at us the way that only a mother and daughter can look at each other; with admiration in their eye.  I'm sure my mom wanted that too. As I continued beyond the pages about my mother to the pages about me, I realized I wasn't the same person that I was 21 years ago. There had been a lot of water under the bridge in that length of time. It was hard to write.  Difficult to write about a person that I didn't know anymore. It was kinda funny in a way though. I think that my procrastination was a good thing this time. God used my bad habit to tell this story in retrospect. He has a good sense of humor like that.  I could now tell our story from a viewpoint of  newfound love for my mother and daughter. I am so thankful that I can give this timeless gift to my daughter. And she can give it to her daughter. My beautiful granddaughter. Our story of redemption. Not only in a chair or the pages of a book, but in our hearts...our legacy will live on forever.

Tribute To My Mother and Sister

I didn’t eat black-eyed peas and hog jowl for New Years Day, probably for the first time in 58 years.  I grew up with my mama cooking it every New Years Day and my daddy sayn’, “You better eat a spoon full at least or you won't have good luck this year.” Maybe this is a sign that things are going to be different…don’t know! But one thing I do know for sure, my luck doesn’t depend on black eyed peas.

In the last month I have been reminded several times to hold close this special season that I have with my mother and sister. A lady from Nashville told my sister and I how precious this time was that we have with our mother while lying on the beach in November.  Recently at a funeral as I passed by my dear friend to give her my condolences she whispered in my ear, “Love that Brenda.” She knew what it felt like to lose her only sibling, her precious sister.  I am not going to waste this special time that God has given us to be together. This blog is dedicated to my loving mother, and sweet sister.

 My mother and daddy were married over 50 years, moving to Vernon, Florida after only being married several years.  Daddy was a coach, PE teacher, high school principal, and eventually elected to the State House of Representative from our district. My mother always said about my daddy, “You either loved him or hated him, there was no in between.” I loved that about my daddy. On the other hand, my mother was loved by everyone in Vernon. Not only that, everyone always talked about how beautiful she was. All her athlete’s adored her and her PE students as well. Mother was the girl’s PE teacher and coach for her entire career at Vernon High School. (Thirty something years, (I think). Even today, everywhere I go people are so sweet to ask me about my mother. When they see her they still compliment her on how well she looks. Mom is 86 years old. Not only is she beautiful on the outside but on the inside as well. She is highly thought of, loved, and respected. These are admirable qualities, but the greatest admiration I have for my mother is how she stood by my daddy, no matter what. As the song goes, she was definitely "the wind beneath his wings." Anyone can tell you that! It was so beautifully written in my nieces’ blog when my daddy passed away. I would like to share.

Friday, February 28, 2014

Written by Herrika Thornton

^Heritage

^{I watched her as she got dressed.  She held deep sorrow in her eyes, yet I saw strength, courage and beauty.  There I stood, a girl just getting started good as a wife; not yet a mother, watching this lady who had lived a life time of joy and sorrow.  This day, like so many others, she was a wife dressing to please the man that she had spent a lifetime with, a life that held many sweet stories.}  

^{“Do you think he would think I look pretty today?” she asked me.}

^{I stumbled for words as the tears stuck in my throat.  “Yes ma’am, I know he would,” was my reply because to me she was beautiful dressed in red.  You see red was his favorite color.} 

^{“Well today I’ll stand by him one last time,” was her soft declaration.}

^{Standing by him was all she knew how to do.  She had done so with joy, pride and love for so many years.  Standing by him, honoring him was like breathing to her.}

^{My Nana stood by my Papa’s casket that night for hours as person after person filed by her, expressing their sympathy.  She chatted with each person, hugging and sharing tears with many, but all the while she stood. With elegance and grace she stood beside her husband one more time.} 

My sister is four and a half years older than I am. We weren’t that close in school.  But, I wanted to be everything that my sister was; popular with the boys, well-liked, pretty, smart, a great cheerleader, and passionate about her love for Jesus. She made it a little difficult for me because I knew I could never measure up. After a few years in college, Brenda married Ricky and they have been married 40+ years. She taught school for 35 years.

And all this time, she has labored in love tirelessly with her husband, as she and he have served as pastors for at least 20+ years. I’ve watched her close up, love and support him during times that it would be easy to walk away but, never did she do that. She has prayed for, stood steadfast and loyal to her husband. She has been there to lift his head and not tear him down. I admire her so much for that!
  

What an honor to have two women in my life that have been such excellent role models for me, our children, grandchildren, and generations to come.  Both have loved and honored their husbands and have put God first in their lives. Recently trying to think of a verse that would honor my sister’s birthday I thought of Ruth 13:1. It is so fitting for them both; "Where you go I’ll go and where you stay, I’ll stay. Your people will be my people and your God my God."  My mother and sister have lived by these words. They have stood in the middle of wagging tongues, unpopular beliefs, and had their share of valley experiences and have not wavered. They stood by their husband’s and in doing so have honored their God. They possess a rare beauty.

 I don’t make New Year’s resolutions, but, if I was to make one I think it would be along the lines of, I want to love a little harder and love a little longer… my husband, our children, grandchildren, all my family and friends…

my mother and sister (thank you, you make me want to be a better person)

I love you dearly,

Sammie Jean

The Church; it's not a building

"This is the church, this is the steeple, open the door and look at the people," using hand motions, I recited to my grandchildren one Wednesday night on the way to church. I folded my hands together and raised my pointer fingers to make the steeple. My granddaughter asked, "What is a steeple?" Realizing  that our church didn't have one, I explained. I've thought a lot about the church in the physical sense...what it looks like outside and in. Some churches are extravagant buildings, stained glass windows, beautifully designed steeples with a huge bell hanging in the belfry and others are nothing more than wooden planks, atop a hill, old but with timeless beauty. I have never seen a church as extraordinary though as those in Europe. On our trip to Italy we visited many. They were a work of art... at its very finest.  I love to admire churches; old and new; you feel like you owe them a certain respect or reverence.The people inside are all different too; each one special and unique; all products of their environment, different experiences, and efforts as human beings. Some quite successful by worldly standards, some less fortunate by the same standards, others falling somewhere in between. Just like outward appearances are quite different inward experiences are quite different too. Some people are fluent in scripture, others knowing the most important verse like, "for God so loved the world, that He gave His only Son..",some devoted to a life of prayer, and others just attending church... we are all at different places. I was reading an article by Sean Deitrich, "Sean of the South," where he expressed that He was not a religious man and he didn't attend church regularly. However, while reading the article I could sense a strong sensitivity to the things of God. I remember a time in my life when I thought, why don't I just stay at home? I love Jesus. I'm not an expert on churches. And I am not an expert on religious or spiritual matters. But, one thing I know for certain is we all need each other. God created family. I grew up going to church on Sunday morning with my mother and sister.  I remember many older girls that had a very positive influence on me. I sang specials and enjoyed going to church. I attended another one regularly on Sunday nights throughout my teenage years. Going to church on Sunday night was more of a,"boyfriend date night" than a "date with Jesus night." Although I might not appeared to be listening, I'm sure that way more seeped into my heart than I realized at the time. As an adult, there were two churches that were near and dear to my heart. I started going to one church around the same time that I had begun to do a lot of soul searching about my own life. Sad to say, but a little critical examination of others around me that were frequent church attenders. You know it's easier to see what everyone else is doing wrong. I remember asking God, "How are they different than I am?" I was not attending church very often. He began showing me things about my own life. It's funny how he never one time showed me anything about anyone else. He told me how much He loved me and always had. I had always heard that but this time I really believed it.  He showed me that he was not disappointed in me. That was huge. I was so disappointed with myself and I felt that I had disappointed everyone else around me. One Sunday morning service, in this church that I had only been attending for a short time, I stood up during worship time and started dancing with the music. It didn't matter to me if everyone thought I was crazy or not. My focus was on Him and it was like no one else was in the room. That was the most intimate expression of love that I could show Him. I wanted to give Him my all. It was beautifully liberating. I learned that I could praise Him with my heart, my mind, soul, and with the body that He had so intricately created. I experienced a freedom in Him that I had never known before. Chains began to fall off. I am forever grateful to God and to that church. It was there that I truly learned to worship Him. God led me to a new church that was just beginning, several years later.  We held service in my brother-in-laws and sisters living room, who were the pastors. I love and attended that church for 22 years. There I learned what a church family really was. Just like your own family; you live life together, throughout all the ups and downs, mountains and valleys, and messes of life.  It was like it was yesterday. I was raising my three grandchildren as a single parent, their ages 4 1/2, 3 years and 11 months old. I went to the mailbox one day and there was a check for $500.00. Never knew who sent that to us. They will never know what it meant though. That school year my church family helped with backpacks, had my house cleaned, helped with childcare and babysitting, sent a ham for Thanksgiving, the list goes on. Most of all though... they prayed for me and they loved me and my family through all those years. Just like in your own family, a church family is accountable to each other. Yes, like in our own families we had growing pains. But, everyone learned from them. I wish I had of learned to put my feelings of pride, insecurity, and rejection away a little sooner, but that's all part of the growing process too. I am so thankful for them. My testimony today might not be the same without their guidance every step of the way. We recently moved and I had to tell my church family good-bye. I stood in front and told  them how much I loved and appreciated them, but all I could do was cry. We lived life together for a long time. There were many, many years of gratitude bottled up inside. We recently moved to a small town and started going to a small church thee.  Last Wednesday night the pastor said, "We are going to take church to a 96 year old elderly woman. She isn't feeling well and is unable to come to church."  I thought to myself, "Okay this is very interesting." As we walked up to her tiny wooden-framed home, and walked in, there she sat in her recliner with her afghan and pillows wrapped around her. Her hair was neatly combed, her eyes bright and alert, and her sense of humor in tact as she shared about her exterminator. Everyone sat wherever they could find a seat; on the couch, in a chair, on the floor, on the porch and overflow in the kitchen, and the pastor sat close by her with his guitar in hand. We began to sing..."amazing grace, how sweet the sound, that saved a wretch like me, I once was lost, but now I'm found was blind, but now I see." He asked her what her favorite song was and she quickly replied in her little shaky voice, "I'd rather have Jesus than anything..." As she lip-synced the words, her eyes were moist and her focus intent as her brown eyes moved around the room to take it all in. Love was evident. The presence of the Lord was tangible. Not a doubt in my mind, God was pleased. Thank you, Father for teaching us that church is wherever there are people who love you and love each other. We feel right at home ❤

 We all need each other.

sammie jean

Sixty Years...What I Know for Sure

Sixty years ago, born blonde haired, blue eyed, probably no hair really, just a little peach fuzz to a couple of young teachers. I was given the feminine version of my daddy's name, (for he was in hopes of a son), and joined an older sister which was four and 1/2 years old. I was raised in a very small town in the panhandle of  Florida. Crossed a bridge over a creek every day, twice a day, to get to school and back to the place I called home. I lived in the same house for 18 years. My sister and I had our own rooms, we had central heating and air, washing machine and dryer my whole life. A very easy life, in that way. We always had odd and end chores to do though. Daddy was an entrepreneur so he always had something extra going on; a coined operated laundromat that we kept clean. We didn't live on a farm (really) but daddy still had pigs, of which we had to unload corn for occasionally, on an early Saturday morning. He kept us on our toes like that. He didn't want to spoil us (I guess.)  My mother worked hard too. She had a full time job, but  I can still smell those homemade biscuits that she made every morning for breakfast before we went to school. Daddy and mama worked hard to make a good life for the four of us. My grandparents were an important part of my growing up. I would attend a "holiness" church with them on occasion. I can still hear my poppy request a certain page number to sing from the upbeat list of songs; what an impression this must have made on me in those formative years. Loved spending the night with them. Poppy always had to have his bowl of ice cream. Me too. My granny could make the best homemade peanut candy. She would use fresh cane syrup made just down the road. I can still see us standing around while it cooled, anxiously waiting her to say, "Okay, it's ready." Miss my grandparents so. Everyday of my life, mama pulled my hair straight back in a pony tail and she would drive us to school all together; the three of us. I was known as "Sammie Jean" by those that knew me well. You know every little southern girl has to have her middle name attached to her first name. Daddy and mama taught physical education at the same school where my sister and I attended school our whole lives. That was where life became a little more complicated. There were always certain expectations that we had to live up to and there were always those that thought we had it easier than they did. They just didn't know. I had new dresses hanging in my closet that I wouldn't wear to school. Friends in elementary school ran and hid from me and whispered behind my back. I just smiled and acted like it didn't bother me. Never understood why, guess I wasn't suppose to. Wasn't crazy about elementary school.  We couldn't play outside long enough and had to learn multiplication facts by heart. Hated numbers and math. Couldn't wait to get home and play with my next door neighbor, a boy. I was a tomboy so it was easy. We rode bikes, climbed trees, life was simple in my yard so unlike school. We played hard and I got hurt often. Fell out of tree and sprang my arm, and severely cut my leg open and had to get stitches.  My piano teacher once said, "If you practiced as much as you rode your bike you would be great." Oh well, I didn't practice and was never great. I also had a big imagination and loved playing alone too. My dolls were close companions. Watched The Wizard of  Oz every year of my life. Cried every time. I could relate to Dorothy, the lion, the scarecrow, and the tin man. There were pieces of my personality entwined in each one of them.  I was a natural born entertainer. I couldn't sing very well but that didn't matter. I sang at school functions and at church too. I was a jokester in my family, always trying to keep them laughing. Never understood why they thought it was funny that I turned and looked at them out of the corner of my eye when I wasn't telling the truth. Oh well, they laughed anyway. I would do anything to get my daddy's attention. Like the times he would say, "Sammie Jean, climb that rope to the top of the gym." "Show these boys how it is done." After all, I was his namesake, I wasn't dare going to disappoint him.  Pleasing daddy was very important to me when I was a little girl.  I once even wore the campaign sticker that said, "Vote For My Daddy", when he ran for a political office. He always had my vote...and my heart. Think about my daddy often. I'm not sure if learning was hard because I wasn't smart enough or I just didn't have my heart in it. I'm pretty sure I was good at the things I was passionate about...like anything physical. Each summer we took swimming lessons in the nearby town. I remember those in charge telling me to get out of the pool and get in the right class. I always wanted to be in the class with my friends. I guess I was such a good swimmer because I practically lived in the creek across from our house. Everyone would either climb the big tree and dive out of it or swing from the rope and jump into the icy cold water (or both.) All of us "creek dwellers" could swim like a fish. I remember being on up in age when I told my friend one summer that we couldn't play together. It was hard to explain but I just knew for some strange reason that I didn't want to ride my bicycle with him anymore. I wore my hair down to school for the first time that year and put a little mascara on. I won class beauty. Pretty enough...definitely not a beauty. I had lost some of my tomboy ways though. I remember seeing the movie Love Story with my friend. I cried for a week, but I loved that movie anyway. Middle school was fun. Loved science class. My friends and I left class everyday to cross the road and go into the woods near the creek and work on our science project. I can't tell you what our project was or why we were allowed to do that, but it was the funnest class of my life. I think that is when I fell in love with life science.  I became a cheerleader in middle school. It was the natural thing to do; my sister was a cheerleader, my mama was the coach, and I loved being in front of a crowd.  It was a perfect fit.  Every since I can remember I loved God. Never cared too much for the formality of church though. But, there were always older girls in our church that I looked up to and loved. I loved my sister's friends too. Her and her friends were a good influence. I loved how they all loved Jesus so much. I once gave a speech to become state chaplain in an organization for future teachers that I belonged to. I remember saying, "I am only one but I am one, I cannot do everything but I can do something. What I can do and what I should do by the grace of God, I will do." I won. My friend and I flew to Tampa. She was a state officer too. High School was so much fun. Mainly because of the extracurricular activities and the socializing. Summer cheering camps were always a fun adventure. I loved cheering more than ever. I remember my boyfriend came to visit me while I was at camp that year. My first love. I was popular enough. Still had the same big smile on my face. Voted editor of senior class yearbook and won homecoming queen. I still enjoyed swimming in the creek, but now it was important to show off my slim body in my two piece and strut my long tanned legs. Drank some Boons Farm once. My daddy would have killed me. A little naughty at times but a lot nice. Married young to my high school bow, one year into college. Young love was very hard. Finishing college, working full time, being a wife and mother was not a job for the faint of heart. It took great sacrifice. I became the teacher that I said I never would be. That was mainly because my parents and sister were teachers and I wanted to be something different. My young daughter was caught twixt and tween all of it and probably effected the most, but still the cutest, sweetest little blonde you would ever see. My son came along seven years later. He was a Godsend for me and a grandson for my daddy. The son he never had. My son was popular, athletic; excelled in all sports. I remember walking to the football field one night not very far from our house and watching him walk onto the field with football in hand and dreaming of the day he would be the teams quarterback. His dream came true. But, his papa never saw him do that for he passed away just before he was a senior. Daddy was near though. We could feel him cheering him on that year. He also had baseball dreams.They came true too. Proud of his accomplishments. Proud of my daughter too. Love both of my "M & M's." The children's dad and I divorced. I was 40 years old. Divorce is horrible. Don't ever let anyone tell you otherwise. Even though I didn't set out to teach,  I discovered that I loved teaching children. I taught for 31 years, becoming National Board Certified toward the end of my career. It definitely stretched me. It took me a while to realize my calling was to work with kids that were underachievers. Since I was one of those, I could relate well. I think it made me a better teacher. My three grandchildren have my heart. I now have five "M's" rather than just two.  I have so much respect for my daughter's hard work in raising them as a single mother. I know...it's very hard. My son married, giving me another daughter. The two of them are adorable. I did get remarried and blessed with more children and more grandchildren to love. We retired recently, my husband and I, and took a trip. I have always had a lifelong dream of going to Italy. It was wonderful. Hopeless romantic that I am; candle light dinners, sunsets with a glass of chardonnay, and intimate conversation. I know I had to have once lived during the Victorian era; lace, pearls, and romance. God gave me a very special gift when He gave me my husband. We have the same roots, growing up in the same small town, on the same creek, even if it did take us over fifty years to find each other. We now find ourselves living in the middle of the woods, near a creek, in a different small town. It definitely feels like we have come full circle. One of my biggest life lessons has been... for me to realize, it's how I look through my lenses at the world that determines what I see. Love this quote by Marcel Proust. The real voyage of discovery consist not in seeking new landscapes but in seeing with "new eyes." I realize now that I can change no one but myself.  I can't really fix anything either. Believe me, I tried. It didn't work. So now I can relax! For the first time in sixty years, I don't feel like I am in the middle of a struggle. No outward struggle...no inner struggle. Sixty feels good. Real good!

 I know for sure...that no earthly thing will ever really satisfy my soul...but as long as I have this earthly body, I will always enjoy; a morning cup of coffee with Jesus, walking hand in hand with my husband through the woods, reading and writing, sitting on my front porch and talking about life to anyone that will listen, dreaming about the cabin we hope to one day have, being crafty and my husband liking it, laughing over silly things with our son, our daughters, daughter-in-love and son-in-loves and being a part of their lives, sitting around a campfire with our grands telling stories and looking at the stars, hugs and kisses and seeing smiles on their faces as they do what they enjoy, going to church on Sunday morning, enjoying a wonderful, long, healthy life with my precious elderly mother, affectionately known as Nana by her family, beach trips with my "favorite" only sister, looking out our window at brother-in-law's and sisters cozy cabin (or will be one day), sharing the goodness of God with friends, packing a suitcase for the next trip, walking on the beach, tea time at noon, watching the sunset, watching the sunrise, watching nieces and nephews-in-love raise their children to love Jesus, and grand nieces and nephews loving life, lifting a hand or giving a smile to someone in need, watching children play, seeing a child learn, watching the birds, lying in my hammock, living in the moment, watching a good movie with my hubby, the fresh breath of God as He breathes on His people, close relationships, dreaming about a mission trip to Africa, planting flowers, watching butterflies, pumpkin pies in the fall, Christmas, laughing and crying, having a husband that lets me be me, fried shrimp, taking pictures of beautiful things, a miracle, listening to worship music, writing about Jesus through life experiences, snuggling with my husband, realizing that through it all I am worshiping my Father God every day with my whole life..

Thank you Father for this great life you have given me!

Here's to the next Sixty!!!

sammie jean

It's A Relationship I Desire...

Sixty years.
  What do I have to show?

I asked God,"Has my life been what you required?"
"Or rather what you desired?"

I have always believed in you, I even took the step of faith,
I asked you to come into my heart when I was young
But decisions soon hardened that choice
I didn't see you in my life like I once had before

I tried to do good, work hard, and
smile everywhere I would go.
I was sure if I did everything right
You would be pleased, I know

But, you said, that hadn't been your requirement
that you hadn't asked it of me
my desire was for you to live instead
face to face, in my mercy and grace, totally free

I had to ponder that awhile
you don't change mindsets with ease
culture is hard to break from
it was everyone else that I had aimed to please

 the tide began to turn though
There was something different in the air
a fresh new breeze blew in
I sensed you drawing me there

I turned my face toward you
Your eyes, oh your eyes, full of compassion and love
"You are enough" you said, "always have been and always will be"
"Stop trying so hard, you have always been enough for me"

My feet became lighter, my soul started to dance
You blew your breath of freedom into my lungs
now flesh was no longer my interest
 I only longed to please you

 I realize now
that I'm your beautiful bride, forever
for all eternity...

"There is something I would have you do,"
I heard you gently say
"Go tell others this truth
how much I desire and wait for them every day,"

"It's not their performance
that I'm seeking, no not that at all,
it's a relationship I desire
nothing... nothing... more..."

sammie jean 3/12/17

My Family Tree

This past weekend our family, (on my dad's side), held our annual family get-together. It mainly consist of cousins now. All the brothers have passed away except for the third born son. He is now the patriarch of the family. He has always been a gentle giant. He stands well over 6 feet tall but such a meek spirit. "Uncle Mitch," I asked, "How does it feel to be the only one left in your family?" With tears in his eyes he told me that it was really hard. He said that he thought a lot about doing things with his brothers that he had so enjoyed doing with them in the past. Especially my daddy, the oldest in the family. They were both very athletic; my daddy active in basketball, football, and softball, coaching all three and my uncle, very active in golf, until just recently, did his health prevent him from playing. He was a very good golf player, probably could have gone pro at one time. Daddy and my uncle did so many things together even as adult men. Both, him and daddy refereed basketball games together for many years. They were so good that they refereed state championships.  They were and my uncle still is avid sportsmen; loving to fish and then frying them, fresh right out of the creek. They are both known for their fried fish and hush puppies. I know. I've enjoyed them many times. As he talked about daddy, he said that he wished that he could just have a little more time with him.  Uncle Mitch, I pray that you know Jesus. You will have a wonderful reunion one day with daddy, your other brothers and sister that died at childbirth, granny, and poppy. Oh, what a reunion that will be!  I know you have a lot of catching up to do... you will have plenty of time to do it...for eternity.

My mom is the matriarch of the family. She is the only sibling still living in her family. The baby of a family of six children. Two girls, including herself, and four brothers. She is an amazing woman. Her and daddy celebrated their golden wedding anniversary before he passed away. She was the wind beneath his feet when he was alive. She was a quiet force to be reckoned with though.  Daddy knew when he was awfully close to that infamous, "line drawn in the sand." Daddy a great man in everything he accomplished, college basketball high point maker, high school football and basketball state champion, high school principal, and state legislator; known for always standing firm on his beliefs and staying the same whether he was in the woods talking to friends or in the capitol building. He might have been known as Big Sam but everyone knew who really helped make him who he was, my mom. Mom has her own bragging rights though, she coached winning high school teams in softball, track, and volleyball. She coached all girls, rather they played sports or not everyday in her physical education classes.She will tell you that her greatest accomplishment is caring about young girls.  No matter where I go, everyone always ask me about my mom. I often hear stories about how both my parents impacted their lives growing up. My chest swells with pride for my parents. My mom is eighty -five, just a month shy of eighty-six.  She is definitely the glue that sticks our family together. She still provides that same strong foundation for all our family that she always did for daddy.

My mom was married to my dad for over fifty years and my uncle and Aunt Toogie have been married for over 50 years, also. They both raised a respectable family and diligently worked at the same jobs for over 30 years. They are well-known and loved in their communities.  What a great accomplishment. Hold your heads high! Even though you have done so much, you're not finished yet. God still has you here for a purpose.

Since my move to the woods, I have a new appreciation for pine trees. They have never been my favorite tree. I have always been partial to the hardwoods; the oak tree especially, as it shows off all it's magnificent color in the fall and changes through the seasons. But, the pine trees have caught my eye. I knew they were tall but as I gaze up at them in the night sky, they appear to go on and on, endlessly. They stand so tall and confident. Last night as I sat around our campfire and looked up into the night sky, I once again saw the vast stature of the pine trees all around us. It appeared as if they held there head a little higher as they towered above the other trees in the woods. It made me think of my "family tree"; my mama and Uncle Mitch, and all their accomplishments. They should walk a little straighter and lift their heads a little higher. Not because they are better than anyone else or have necessarily accomplished more than anyone else. It's because they are the salt of the earth; just plain, down to earth, good people. Uncle Mitch, Aunt Toogie, mama, like the pine tree, you have definitely flourished in the "soil" that God has given you.  I think that is all He ask us to do.

Love and appreciate you so very much,
Sammie Jean


 whoever pursues righteousness and love; finds life, prosperity, and honor Proverbs 21:21 NIV

Uncle Mitch at Cousins Reunion Feb. 2017

7

it makes me think of my daddy

We recently went through a big move. Well, only 71 miles away from where I lived practically my whole life, but a big move to me. The whole process is big; physical, spiritual, and emotional; selling the house that I lived in a long time, getting rid of extra furniture, having a yard sale (I hate yard sales), searching for boxes (in dumpsters), wrapping, packing, and cleaning. Not to even mention, leaving family and close friends behind. And, all the questions...God, you did promise me that you would never leave or forsake me, didn't you? Well, it's been several weeks now since our move. Things are quiet and peaceful here. But, it still makes me tired when I think about it. Moving is a big deal! Don't ever let anyone tell you otherwise. We moved to a very small town. Probably only one gas/mini-grocery store here. To get to our house, you go down a little dirt road, a little over a third of a mile, so it's in the middle of the woods kinda. A creek runs around the back side of our property. There isn't much to do here, the usual outdoor stuff; hunt, fish, take a walk, watch your grand kids play baseball, go to church, go to the grocery store, and lie in my hammock (of course I remembered to bring it.) It's beautiful, peaceful, country. You know how when someone loves where they live they describe it as, "God's country." Well, this definitely is. One of the most magnificent sights though is star gazing at night. There isn't any city lights to contend with so all you see is a vast, dark night sky and the most spectacular display of stars, constellations, planets and the moon. The only way I could describe it, the first night I looked up was, it took my breath away. I can see why my daddy loved it so much in this area. He didn't have a fishing camp here, but when I was younger he came to this county a lot to stay with friends in their cabin. He was a real out-doors man and it was a chance for him to get out in the woods that he so loved. He loved hunting, fishing, cooking, and eating. He was a rather hefty man and loved his fried fish and hush puppies. He could cook them as well as anyone could in this part of the country. I'm sure they had their share of campfires and told fish tales and buck stories around it about the big one that got away. They probably even played a game or two of poker. Daddy never told me that much about it but because I knew him so well, I can just imagine.
My husband and I were sitting on our front porch the first night that we lived here. It was kinda funny. But, I was rocking and the rocking chair next to me was rocking by itself. I looked over at the chair and I looked back at my husband and I said something to the effect of, "Do we have a ghost?" The boards on our front porch had not been totally secured and they were moving every time I rocked. It felt very weird. He said jokingly, "Its your daddy rocking with you." Well, that didn't have the effect on me that he expected. I started to cry. No, I started to "boohoo." He said that he was so sorry and got up to come over and console me. Not so sure why it impacted me in that way. I responded to him, "I feel so close to my daddy here." Daddy has been gone for over 10 years. I think about him a lot. A whole lot! He was a big man with big personality and love for life, so it's impossible not to see him in everything I do. I can just hear him now, "Sammie Jean, what are you doing living in those woods?" My answer is, daddy I'm not so sure. But, the truth is...I'm really loving it. I think daddy and I have a whole lot in common.

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