It Is What It Is

As most of you probably know my favorite part of each day is just before dawn followed by daybreak, watching the sun rise. From on top of a mountain surrounded by trees, watching the sun rise is a challenge.

It comes to me through the leaves shining as diamonds sparkling, shooting out beams of sunlight. I sit facing the Light so that I can feel God's presence in each beam of light radiating out in all directions.

I sometimes think I could sit all day enjoying the peace of the morning. It is usually at this time of day that I am most inspired to write. I think because it is such a calming feeling to be surrounded by the presence of God. And although I am fortunate to feel that all day, there is just something Holy about that first ray of Light filled with so much love.

Last year I was overcome with the busyness of life to the point that I forgot to Let Go and Let God be in my daily thoughts. I was trying to do it all on my own and there was no peace in my life. And then I discovered the daybreak and it became my precious time to start the day.

I wrote this poem early one morning in June 2008, after watching the sun rise through the leaves of the trees on my mountaintop:

It Is What It Is

So we look into the world and see our lives entwined.
We have to ask ourselves to explain what we see.
For what purpose are we here on this magnificent earth?
To be one; to be a few; or to be a collection of all there is?

We move and lean into the daily grind of wake and sleep.
To be calm one minute and then thrown into the storm the next.
Listening to the sounds we hear call to the person we are.
But is that person you or me or the one down the road?

The candle burns slow and steady moving with grace.
Our life is a reflection of that light as it flickers in the breeze.
And when that light is extinguished the flame is still there.
Only it is hidden from our sight but not from our hearts.

We move, we grow, we let go and then just be.
Our life on a journey is moving from one experience to another.
Never knowing if this is it - is this all there is?
And in the end we rest in peace secure that all is well.


Unlike last year, when my life was not simple, today, I am whole and well, happy and content, and filled with love and so blessed. I can look at the sunrise and know that I am loved and know that all is well. Thanks be to God.

The End of Summer - Friday

This week has been a week of times remembered and I decided today's post would be the last for this week. That is because today was a day of firsts - not lasts.

Today was Paige's first day of preschool for the next school year, still a phase in day, but a real day. Monday was visitation but today they followed a schedule. And upon picking her up the teacher handed me a note. On it the teacher had written Paige's response to what she liked most about the day and it was the playground!

No surprise there. Paige loves being outdoors and playing. But she also has a wonderful gift of imagination and can play indoors just as happily. This is a good thing as she spent the entire afternoon inside "working" at the store with me. Six hours she entertained me and I entertained her and when we had customers, she rang them up and helped me behind the counter.

Although we had set up the back room with the TV, games, books, play-doh, and lots of snack food, it was her Dora backpack filled with goodies that kept us both occupied the most. Her favorite activity the whole day with me was to create games for me to play and for me to make treasure hunts for her to go on.

Paige had a clip board and pen and I gave her ten steps to take and at the end of each step she would find a treasure which I had hidden (in plain view). She would "read" each step with me where some of the words were pictures and others numbers that she recognized so that she was able to follow the step without any problem. She enjoyed the treasure hunt so much that she pretended to write one for me and hid objects all over the store and "walked" me through it just as I did her. It was remarkable to see my little four year old granddaughter appear so grown up.

But the activity that really got to me was the one she invented. She had a whistle and she said she was the "conductor" and that she would count to three, blow the whistle and I was to toss the LIG dog ball into bucket. The bucket she created by standing the shirt folder up on its sides so that it created a tube. She first placed it about fifteen feet from me and I was so poor at getting the ball into the tube, she moved it closer (without telling me.) I moved it back and she said I was cheating. I said she was being too kind making it close to me so I could get it in.

Every time I made the bucket she would turn and write down something on her clip board. At one time I asked her if I could have a second chance and she said, "Girl you had all the chances I'm going to give you!"

When it was time to close the store, she insisted on turning out all the lights and taking down the OPEN sign. She was tired and I was tired and we drove home thinking about the homemade pizza we planned for dinner and the sleepover she was going to have with us. And then came the final first for the day. She asked to go home after dinner. She did not want to stay with us overnight.

She backed out of sleeping over at her other grandparents last week, so we were not surprised. It is just a phase. So after dinner we loaded up the car and drove down the mountain and met her mommy in the Bi-Lo parking lot as she was on her way home from her company golf tournament which she helped organize. Paige was so happy to see her mommy.

I was reminded of all the times I spent the night out at my grandparent's house while growing up and what a wonderful feeling it was to come home the next day and see my parents. And I do remember a time or two changing my mind and someone coming to get me. I didn't love my grandparents any less, I just wanted to be home.

Just as Paige is growing up and experiencing a lot of firsts these days, I too must grow along with her. I just have to be patient and know that she will always love her Mimi as much as I love her.

The End of Summer - Thursday

The first thing I remember about being on my own was that I could do things without asking permission. Not living with my parents meant that I was in charge of my life; however it didn't mean I stopped asking for advice, recipes, and help now and then.

I remember the fist time I wanted a Coke and all I had to do was open the refrigerator and get it. There was such a sense of freedom. Cokes were a treat growing up. And since I didn't work when I was first married, the first thing I did each morning was turn on the TV. And the last thing I did at night before going to bed was turn off the TV. Something we were never permitted to do growing up.

Today I have a TV in the kitchen, den, and two bedrooms and rarely do I watch it. Yes, it's off and on throughout the day, but never on ALL day.

But I find that is changing when the grandkids are at the house. It came to me on Thursday, when baby Hayden was with me. He likes the noise of the TV and really likes Play With Me Sesame Street or Fox News. At almost six months, he's trying to sit up by himself. So we sit together on the afghan I have on the floor and he struggles to play with his toys in front of him or look up and watch TV. It is so funny, but I'm happy to say, the toys usually win out.

I didn't realize how much TV I was watching with him until my husband and I sat down in front of the TV to eat dinner (a habit I hate) the other night, and I found myself talking out loud to the commercials, responding to the questions before the actor could. Pretty sad...I thought to myself, I have to stop watching so much TV.

But here is the funny part. My husband tunes the commercials out and so when I talk he thinks I'm saying something to him and we go through this routine like Abbott and Constello's "Who's on First":

Him: What'd you say?
Me: When?
Him: To me?
Me: I don't know
Him: You just said something
Me: I did?

Well, you get the picture. And then I am suddenly reminded again that I've got to stop watching so much TV. So when my husband came home on Thursday, instead of sitting in front of the TV with baby Hayden, we walked outside and sat on the stoop of the porch and watched the cars go by, birds dart in and out between the trees, and squirrels dance around and around the trunks of the trees or throw their acorns down to the ground like bombs. Hayden just loved it, laughing and giggling and smiling.

And when his daddy drove up and got out of the car, his face lit up and he reached for him with such love. I knew that he would have a pleasant drive home to N. Georgia after spending time outside in the fresh air instead of inside by the TV.

Maybe I should follow my own advice and go outside instead of sit by the TV....who knows what I might see. After all I am in charge of my life!

The End of Summer - Wednesday

Okay so the week is going faster and faster and yet time seems to be slowing down.

Really...

Summer heat has finally settled on our mountaintop and it is suffocating me so I'm forced to stay inside...inside the house, the store, the car...where air conditioning is sending out its cool breezes that keep me sane.

I know I should not complain. My friends and relatives in Louisiana and Texas have been sending me messages on Facebook to stop bragging about the wonderful temperatures we've had this summer. But the summer is ending and NOW we get hot weather?

The crickets are chirping so slowly you can hear their heartbeats in between each chirp; the birds have all gone silent; and there are no children playing outside after school. It is pretty lonely on our street.

I remember one very hot summer in Houston just before school started and the kids were bored stiff and getting on each other's nerve and completely destroying what little bit of mind I had left. They were doing anything and everything to stay occupied and although I tried to wipe this out of my memory I was reminded today of what happened one afternoon when I used what I thought was the ultimate last resort comment:

"I have had it up to here (pointing to that spot just under my chin); now go to your rooms and don't come out until your FATHER comes home." Like that was going to do any good. My husband wasn't due home for several hours thanks to a two-hour commute, the threat was an empty one and my kids at the young age of middle and elementary school knew it.

But it did give me some peace and quiet for a little while...and then it got too quiet.

I remember hearing some noises that seemed out of the ordinary so stepped outside onto the patio only to see the neighbor's cat walking along the roof line between the garage and house. I thought it odd, but the heat was horrible and so I retreated back into the house in the cool of my bedroom to read a book behind closed doors.

And like most mothers I came to my senses and realized I couldn't punish my kids forever so I decided to go upstairs and check on them. I found the youngest son asleep in his bed, the room dark and cool as he had drawn the curtains to keep out the sunlight. And I found the door to my oldest son's room closed. I guessed he and my middle son were inside the room. This was before the days of personal computers, TVs in bedrooms and cell phones so I had to ask myself what were they doing?

I knocked and opened the door to find them sitting on the floor surrounded by a horrible mess of crushed raw eggs. They said the mean girls next door threw the eggs into the room from the outside. There was a flat roof outside the big double window and the screen was missing (later found on the ground below). The window was covered in raw eggs.

My gut reaction was to kill the girls next door - not really but almost. At the very least to go tell their parents what they had done. It was about this time that my husband arrived and when we didn't greet him in our usual manner he went upstairs looking for us. He in his most executive manner, standing in the door with his suit coat draped over his arm, tie pulled a little loose around his neck, and cold Budweiser in his right hand, (which he grabbed as soon as he came into the house), he took one look at the situation and surmised what had happened. The boys began to reiterate their story about the girls next door, however their father pointed out that their story was flawed.

The raw eggs were on the inside of the window, not the outside!

Needless to say I was furious all over again, but really was more embarrassed. Because I had let the heat of the day get to me; the tension of the children get to me; and then instead of finding some fun and calming solution to the situation I was in a way a contributor to the problem, closing myself off in my bedroom and giving the boys an opportunity to get the eggs from the kitchen and then spend an hour or so throwing them at the window enjoying them as they exploded all over my oldest son's room.

I came to realize that at least they kept the mess in the room, and everything would come clean (after I gave them rags and cleaning materials) and in the end the only thing that was hurt was my self-esteem as a mother. Of course they were punished and hopefully did not forget that what they did was inappropriate.

But in truth, the person who learned the most was me. Never ever let the heat of the day or any circumstance control my life. I can't control what happens - only how I respond. And there is great power in that.

So today in the dog days of summer, I welcome the heat and relax in the knowledge that it will pass. All I have to do is breathe deeply and remember the lessons I learned that hot day in Houston many years ago.

The End of Summer - Tuesday

I'm not sure about you, but what can more nostalgic than a funeral? A reunion maybe, but isn't that what funeral turns into? It did for me. On Tuesday, I drove to Atlanta to celebrate the life of my cousin, Florida Hatcher Cobb, 88 years young.

My great-grandfather had three wives and each wife had two children. Florida was the daughter of his first child and my grandfather the son of the second wife, making them second cousins, I think. Whenever the McCrary's get together we go through the same process, explaining to the next generation or two how each is related and who had what grandmother.

Being with my grandfather's family brought back so many memories including my first reunion in 1964 when I was fourteen. Held at a lake outside of Atlanta, we shared two cabins. No one missed the reunion. I came home with two things, pictures of my mother and her cousins dressed in short shorts standing arm and arm and me with sores under both knees from riding a wood board that was being pulled by a motor boat. To make matters worse, my parents made a quick stop in Destin Beach on our way home and stayed at the Capri By the Sea; a cinder block motel that was right on the beach. It was the first time I saw the Gulf of Mexico. The salt water was not good for the sores on my knees which still today can be seen.

I love my McCrary family. With emails, Facebook and letters I keep up as much as possible. I was honored to plan the 2005 reunion in Chattanooga. I missed the 2000 in Mobile, but had my whole family at the 1995 in Montgomery, AL. We chose that sight because as decedents of E. W. McCrary, my great-grandfather, it seemed fitting to be near his home in Orville, AL, called Crumptomia. A plantation now owned by Mennonites who graciously let us tour the home in '95.

But Tuesday was different. Solemn and yet tenderhearted; we talked a lot about Florida and her wonderful spirit and determination, not unlike her precious mother my Aunt Sissy, which was short for Sister, her family nickname. Everyone had a nickname that had no rhyme or reason. Florida's was Aunt Bobby. I never knew why my Mamma called her that. And so we did too until recently. I saw cousins, and my great Aunt Frances who will be 90 on January 6th. We are planning a party for her in Birmingham but she says no, that she is moving so no party. We say something else. This is the woman who was the president of the United States Post Office Auxiliary in 1979 and flew to a national convention in Denver and took time to visit me and my family while there. She is also the person that took a Greyhound bus and rode all the way from Birmingham alone to come to my wedding.

So it was a few hours of my time there and back...so what? It was worth a million hours to be with my family. I was there for my mother and her father, representing them at my cousin's funeral. I was there for Cindy and Jim and there families as they mourn their mother. I was there for myself to remember who I am and where I came from. I cry at weddings and smile at funerals. Call me odd, but I don't care. I am nothing without these memories of my family.

The End of Summer - Monday

Today was the first day of school for Paige. She will go three days a week now and is in the "Sunshine" class at her preschool. Her daddy takes her to school and I pick her up so I needed to be there to introduce myself to her teachers. I also help out when I can at parties and special events since her mommy and daddy work full time. The plan was to all meet at 10:00.

I arrived first with baby Hayden coming down from the mountain; Debbie was next coming from her office in N. Chattanooga, carrying with her Paige's school supplies. Daniel and Paige arrived last coming from their home in N. Georgia. Debbie offered to carry Hayden in his car seat into the classroom. An offer I gladly accepted. (You'd know why if you ever had to lift one with a baby.)

Paige practically ran into her new classroom and barely said hello to her new teachers before exploring the different learning centers and settling in the homemaker section, doing what she likes best pretending to cook, clean, and play house along with two new friends. Debbie and Daniel sat with all the other parents at the child-size tables filling out forms.

I stood next to Hayden just inside the door. Leaning against the door frame, watching Paige and her enthusiasm I was brought back to some of my first days of school and in particular the year I was in third grade. Mamma insisted we take a picture dressed in our school clothes on the first day of school. I remember that even though my little sister was too young for school, she was in all the pictures and so it is fun now to look back at the three of us at the end of each summer.

My summers were a mix bag between Girl Scout camp, swimming lessons at the City Park pool, my treehouse in the backyard, forts in the woods by the railroad tracks, and sleepovers at my grandparent's house. But probably the most influential thing I did over the years each summer was to spend a week to six weeks in Jackson, Mississippi with my Great Aunt Lorraine and Uncle Phares. It would take a series of blogs to share those days, but the summer before third grade was life-changing. I cut my hair. Or I should say, Aunt Lorraine cut it - much to Mamma's dismay.

I had long thick brown hair that was naturally wavy and so I wore it in a ponytail and when it got hot I had a halo of curls that surrounded my face. Mamma loved my halo of curls, but Aunt Lorraine thought my hair was too heavy for my little face so she took me to her beauty parlor and asked her hairdresser to cut it all off, in a pixie style. She then took me to a dress shop and bought me some new dresses for school.

When Mamma and Daddy came to get me they were horrified at my new haircut. I remember feeling such shame and embarrassment which was just the opposite of the way I felt the day I had it cut - free and light and happy. A few weeks later I dressed for school in one of my new dresses, a cream-colored sleeveless cotton shirt waste with bright colored umbrellas printed all over it. Standing in the front yard with my brother and sister Mamma took our "first day of school" picture and smiled. She said I looked beautiful and I realized she was not mad anymore about my hair cut and that she loved me no matter how I looked.

Standing there in Paige's classroom on her first day of school, dressed in her new jeans, pink shirt, new school shoes, and surrounded by new friends I imagined what she would remember about that day. That her Mommy and Daddy and Mimi loved her and saw how beautiful she was? I hope so.

The End of Summer - Sunday

What is it about the end of summer that makes one nostalgic? This week seems to be a week of memories from my past. It began on Sunday morning when I woke before dawn. I walked out on the back porch to enjoy the silence and was first greeted with out-of-the-norm cool temperatures and then no silence.

Our pond had a frog and he was croaking just enough to keep the crickets, tree frogs, and other insects flustered. If I closed my eyes I was instantly brought back to a time when my parents had a camp at False River, north of Baton Rouge. Sleeping on the back porch, the smell of the water, the sounds on the lake came to me instantly. I was reminded of those wonderful days when my biggest problem was what swim suit to wear the next day, because we lived in our suits and brought several with us each time we made the weekend trips. I hated when summer was over and trips to False River ended. I was so afraid we wouldn't have a camp the next summer. All of that came back to me listening to the frog in my pond.

Later I decided to cook my Mamma's homemade potato soup for lunch. The smell of onions and potatoes always bring back good memories of my mother. It didn't matter if I woke up to the smell of her soup cooking or came home from school and see her standing at the stove smashing the onions and potatoes, the steam spiraling high up above the big pot, it always made me feel grounded. This was Mamma's go to meal when someone was sick. She'd pour it into an old glass mayonnaise jar and deliver it that day, sometimes while still warm. Me, I toss a salad, throw in some French bread, bag it all up and take it to my friends. I am never surprised at the reaction I get from family and friends when I bring them Mamma's potato soup - soup for the soul, I call it.

I decided to make BLT sandwiches to go along with the potato soup. My favorite part is the first bite especially if I get a good taste of mayonnaise with it. Long gone are the pork bacon and real mayo sandwiches like the ones my grandmother Claudia made; now made with turkey bacon and mayo with olive oil (a new discovery that is delicious) but nothing beats a tomato that is homegrown. And although I have one yellow, two red, and one pink all heirloom and one hybrid Big Boy tomato plants, I am getting one tomato at a time. Very odd, but it's been an odd summer.

Today it was a yellow tomato that I almost let get too ripe as it turned orange on the vine! But delicious and perfect for our BLT's. And like my grandmother, I don't toast my bread. And also like my Mamma's potato soup, my grandmother would make her BLT's for breakfast, lunch or dinner and usually anytime I requested one. We'd sit at her round oak table in the kitchen covered in a cotton print tablecloth with a matching napkin next to our Haviland china plates. She poured my milk into a tin glass which kept it very cold for a long time. I guess now every time I eat a BLT I'm reminded of my grandmother's grace and dignity and ability to make a child feel special just by eating a bacon, lettuce, tomato sandwich.

A Brand New Day

My favorite part of the day is waking up; opening my eyes and realizing it's a brand new day! Sounds like a coffee commercial.

I step out of bed and take those first few steps and say, "Thank you God!" And then I hold the post at the foot of the bed to make sure I can stand up okay. (This is an old habit that goes back to a few years ago when I broke my foot; back when I thought I would never be able to stand without pain.) But those days are gone. Instead I'm ready to start the day by thinking ahead immediately of what is coming up.

I read a great book for my book club this month called The Art of Racing in the Rain by Garth Stein. It is told in the first person by a dog who's master is a race car driver. Not only does it have a good storyline, but the main character, the dog, is delightful, smart, and very spiritual. He's says at one point that since God didn't give him a human tongue to communicate with then he should at least have a voice synthesizer like the one Stephen Hawkins uses.

A point the author makes is that a race driver is always thinking ahead, not focused on what is happening but already anticipating what is going to happen. In a curve for example, the driver is already looking at the next curve preparing for it and since he already saw the curve he's in now, he doesn't have to focus on it and can look ahead. But he must be prepared to react to the unknown.

This is not unlike sewing a straight seam with a sewing machine. I'm not looking at the needle as it goes into the material. I'm watching the guide. Or when I bowl, I aim for the pins by looking at them not where I'm throwing the ball.

It's a pretty easy concept to grasp but I guess I just never thought about how much we apply it to our everyday lives. I'm putting my foot down and taking the first step of the day, but I'm focused on what is going to happen today, not that step I'm taking.

This week I had the privilege of seeing my granddaughter, Paige, experiment in throwing a rubber ball. We were down in the basement changing the laundry when she found an old blue ball, one you find for $2 in a wire bend at the grocery store. At one time we had a bunch of them, all assorted colors to have on hand to toss, kick, and roll around the yard/patio. But this was the last one and she found it tucked away in a corner.

She said, "You want to catch the ball Mimi?" And I said, "Of course." So she tossed the ball to me and as she did she wasn't looking at me, just throwing the ball. I realized I had an opportunity to teach her the art of throwing a bouncy ball and so I explained to her that if she would focus on me and my hands poised to catch the ball, instead of looking at the ball, she would most likely throw it right into my hands. I was glad it worked.

The delight on her face when I caught it was almost as amazing as the delight on my face when I threw the ball back to her and she caught it. She had been able to reverse the process without me teaching her, by looking at the ball instead of me, she caught it every time. Only a few throws later, she wanted to move on to making the ball bounce before catching it.

It was a tiny bit of my time, but a big step in her growth, learning to focus on what's ahead and learn to react to sudden moves or changes. Simple tasks we adults take for granted not unlike getting up every morning to a new day. Stay focused, be prepared for all the curves, and yet rest assured that with God I can react to the surprises with grace and joy. Not unlike that which I witnessed in the eyes of a child.

It's All About the Climb

Today I had one of the best experiences in my life...I went to the movies with Paige. A four-year-old and a movie don't sound like they would co-exist, but in this case it went very well.

In fact, it went better. She and her mother went to see Hannah Montana, the Movie last week and Paige asked to go again. Today was Dollar Day at the Regal Cinema at Hamilton Place Mall. So I asked Paige if she wanted to go with me some time and she said, "How about today, Mimi?"

When we arrived I was impressed that there were no less than five stations to purchase tickets and I happily gave them my $2. And I was even more impressed when we went to get popcorn and soda at the concession stand. I ordered a small popcorn and coke for Paige, pointing to her and the young girl behind the counter said the kid's package would cost less. And then when the young man dished out the popcorn, she took it and added more.

We were only a few minutes early, however the theater was just about half full, but by the time the movie started, there was standing room only. Ushers were walking up and down the isles with tiny flashlights searching for open seats. Amazing...I have not seen this in years. Children, teenagers, young parents, and other grand parents like me filled the theater.

I don't know what I expected but it certainly wasn't what I got. This movie was unbelievably wonderful. Cheesy and slapstick and done with great taste and timing, but more importantly it told a very loving story. The music was wonderful, the scenes of Tennessee were absolutely magnificent, and the storyline was at times spiritual.

I found myself crying at least four times and laughing out loud many times more. Paige laughed and Paige watched and it was amazing to see her experiencing this adventure. At one point I was reminded of the last movie I saw with my own grandmother, My Fair Lady with Audrey Hepburn. It was a lovely experience and one I will always remember. I should be so lucky to have Paige remember this day.

For those of you who have not see the movie, the story is about a young girl who becomes a famous rock singer, Hannah Montana, but keeps her true identity Mylie Stewart (a.k.a. Mylie Cyrus in real life) a secret to all but one friend. When her grandmother celebrates a birthday back home in Tennessee, Mylie's dad (Billy Ray Cyrus - real dad and dad in the movie) forces her to come home for two weeks.

Once home and over missing out on the lime life as Hannah Montana, Mylie writes two songs that are beautiful, falls in love for the first time, remembers who she is and where she came from, and most of all finds herself without sacrificing her Hannah Montana identity.

Leaving the theater, ushers held doors for us and thanked us for coming. Everyone was smiling and I was overwhelmed with a wonderful feeling of gratitude. Grateful that Paige wanted to go with me, grateful for the opportunity to see such a well-written and performed movie, hear some beautiful music, and most of all grateful to be in a room with hundreds of other people who also shared in this experience with me.

You'll have to see the movie to understand why "It's All About the Climb." Silly, funny, delightful, heart-warming and so much more. Available next week to purchase, it is worth it, if nothing else to lift your spirits and feel the joy of love of friends, family and life in general.

The Light of God

I've decided that if I ever get a tattoo it will be a star; a tiny one just above my left ankle or maybe like a lot of celebrities put it on the inside of my left arm just above my wrist.

A star symbolizes so many things to many different people but for me it symbolizes the light of God. I read this anonymous quote recently that only confirmed my belief:

"To be a star, you must shine your own light, follow your own path, and don't worry about the darkness, for that is when the stars shine the brightest."

I ask myself, who am I? Am I a star that shines my own light?

Do I follow my own path? The answers, of course is YES.

It is very comforting to be a shining star, the light of God. I can feel the glow on my face and in some cases even the heat. This can come when I hold a grandchild in my arms or walk into a room filled with strange people and not feel alone.

Everyone I meet is a reflection of myself, and if I am a shining star, then too are the people I meet. As simplistic as it sounds, if I'm a shining star and the person I meet is as well, and the next person and so on then the earth would be the brightest star in the universe.

I wrote this poem a few years ago about the light of love, God's love:

The Light of Love

The light of love touches my cheek
as a ray of sunshine.
It may come as a blinding light in early morn or
as a beam dancing around the shadows of trees.

The light of love warms my fingers
in a sink of sudsy water.
A simple task that can be done alone while meditating
or shared with someone I find dear.

The light of love tugs at my heart
when my granddaughter calls my name.
“What darling?” I ask in response
as she begins to tell me about her day.

The light of love is a gentle hug
from a dear friend.
Old or young, the gesture binds us to each other
reminding us of the power of touching.

The light of love is the Divine presence
surrounding me.
It lights my life, warms my heart, and
reflects back into the lives of the people I touch.

Yes, I can say who I AM - the Light of Love, walking as the Light of God, a Shining Star.

Raindrops, Dewdrops, and Teardrops

This past weekend Mark and decided to make a quick trip to Charlotte, NC to visit the Swing family. We left early Friday morning after making what we affectionately call "the Mall run." This is the process Mark goes through each morning that is in effect restocking the merchandise at the stores sold the previous day. Brian offered to do this while we were out of town.


We woke to rain and it continued all the way to North Carolina as we passed no less than four accidents on the highway. Once in the mountains the raindrops turned to very intense rain and the usual 60 miles an hour dropped to 45 or less with heavy traffic taking its time to be safe. But there are few places in the USA that can match the beauty of the Appalachian Mountains and even in a heavy rain, we could feel God's presence.



Finally we arrived in Charlotte meeting Kevin at Lexi's daycare. She had a picture of her Mimi and Mark in her arms and reached with open arms to greet me, which of course thrilled me to no end and assured her concerned mother that the pickup was going to go well. Once home she showed us all her toys and ate everything I put in front of her for her snack.

Kevin and Jenn came home from work and after changing clothes we all headed for a local pizzeria which had the best pizza I've had in years! Even Lexi loved it. After dinner she had her bath and played with her grandfather who teased her endless that he was going to take her passy away. She loved it and finally wore herself out laughing and went to bed.

The next day Jennifer, in her most organized manner, had an itinerary for us which we followed almost to the letter. We woke up and there was a soft dew on the ground and low clouds that threatened rain. After I fixed breakfast (giving Kevin a break since Jenn doesn't cook), we drove to the train station and road downtown and toured the Epicenter. It was too early to shop in the stores but we were impressed with the three story "outdoor" facility with a stage on the third floor outside being set up for a band and sitting behind the curtain was a Red Bull aluminum bar. Pretty cool. Then we walked to the center of downtown Charlotte where there was an open market including a live band. We walked around in a misty rain but stopped by the waterfalls to take a few pictures.




Getting back on the train and on perfect schedule we stopped and got off at Pike's, a local restaurant that used to be a drug store. Serving home style food and homemade cream sodas and desserts, I had the vegetable plate - sweet potatoes, green beans and squash. I should have had sweet potatoes x's three - OMG - It's a miracle I only gained one pound over the weekend!


However the highlight of lunch was watching Lexi eat. The child is in a growth spurt and eats with her hands (due to the daycare not having enough time to spoon feed all the children; they just put the food in front of them and let them have at it.) I videotaped it and if I can figure out how to download I'll add it but you have to picture Patti Duke as Helen Keller in the Miracle Worker eating her food without a fork to appreciate the intensity in which Lexi ate her macaroni and cheese and green beans. She practically cleaned her plate, if you don't count the handfuls that fell on the floor. For a child that spent the first twelve months of her life hating to eat/drink her bottle, I for one was very happy to see her wonderful appetite and did not mind how she ate it.

The rest of the day we shopped for food, wine (Two Buck Chucks which is now $2.99 a bottle), fresh vegetables at the market, and clothes sometimes together, sometimes just the men, sometimes just the girls. For dinner, Mark and Kevin grilled ribs and chicken while I made stuffed baked potatoes and baked corn on the cob and sliced some of our fresh tomatoes from the market. Kevin and Daniel's high school friend Matt Thomas who lives in Charlotte, joined us with his girlfriend Gretchen. We spent the evening playing cornhole. It's a beanbag toss game which takes time getting the hang of, and which I managed to score only once. I was told holding a beer in the other hand would help with your balance, but I didn't think it would work well with a glass of wine so didn't try it. Lexi had fun watching us all play.

That night the thunder rolled and rain fell and we were very happy it didn't rain on our cookout. Lexi, Mark and I spent the evening watching Ace Ventura until she fell asleep in Mark's arms. Jennifer got some great shots of her going back and forth to the two of us stalling before going to bed.

In the morning I fixed biscuits, sausage and cheese grits which the Lou Lou loved. And then we all kissed goodbye and Mark and I headed back to Chattanooga. As usual my tears were both happy and sad ones. Sad to be leaving my daughter and her precious family and happy to see them so happy with their life; and grateful for having such a good and peaceful time enjoying their company proving that little drops of rain, dew or tears didn't ruin our trip, it only made it better!

Thanks Jennifer, Kevin and Miss Alexandra Anne Swing for a great visit! Love you, Mimi.