Have a Little Faith

Yesterday my granddaughter Paige and I went to see the Muppet movie. School is out for winter break, as she is taught to say at school. She asked me what Hanukkah was the other day. I told her it was a Jewish holiday, the Festival of Lights, when Jewish people celebrate their freedom with the burning of eight candles. The eight candles did not burn out and so it was considered a miracle. The Jewish people had faith that the candles would remain lit and today exchange gifts as part of the celebration. This is like the Christians who exchange gifts at the same time of year to celebrate the birth of the Baby Jesus.

It’s a choppy answer, but to a six-year-old, it was the best I could do off the top of my head.

I did not realize the movie had been out so long. When we got to the theatre, we bought our tickets and of course snacks at the concession stand. For a very long time we were the only ones in the theatre. Finally other families joined us and so there may have been twenty of us waiting for the movie to begin. And thirty minutes after the “start” time, the movie began. It was a musical and I was glad I took Paige instead of her father who will be taking her, after Christmas, to see Alvin and the Chipmunks: Shipwrecked.

I listened, laughed, cried a few tears, and watched Paige laugh and giggle at the silliest things. In other words, we had a good time. I wasn’t sure what she was getting out of the movie and without spoiling it for those who have not seen it, the message in the storyline is not necessarily the message individuals get out of seeing the movie. I realized by the end of the movie that maybe my son would have enjoyed this movie more than the chipmunks. After all, he grew up watching the Muppets on the TV, reading Muppet books , putting together Muppet puzzles and so on. I can’t imagine the memories that he might have after sharing this movie with his daughter. I only know what I recalled when he and his brothers and sister were children and the many lessons they learned from having the Muppet experience.

But did Paige learn anything? I wasn’t sure.

Just before leaving the house Paige’s mother handed me her umbrella telling me it was supposed to rain. When we walked out the theatre door, it was raining so hard we could barely see across the parking lot. There was a drop off lane and a covered area. I told Paige I was half-tempted to let her wait for me under cover while I ran to the car in the rain. I’d come back and pick her up. She said that would be nice. I said, on the other hand, I would not feel good about leaving her and she said she’d rather go with me. I said, we might get wet and she said:

“We just have to have a little faith, Mimi, like Kermit said.”

The Power to Choose

The other night, my granddaughter Lexi woke up at 3:00 a.m. and wandered into her parent’s bathroom finding a bottle of pink nail polish. Somehow she managed to paint her toes, nails, cheeks, stomach, legs and arms with the polish without spilling a drop! I asked my daughter if she was pretty and she said, “Pinkalicious!”

Pinkalicious is a little girl who lives in a world of pink. The book about her life is a huge hit with little girls all over the world. She loves the color pink and although her parents warn her to not eat pink cupcakes she can’t resist them. When she does eat the pink cupcakes she turns pink. She has created her world to be exactly as she wants it to be. She is the scriptwriter of the play in which she has the starring role.

Just as Lexi did the other night; such abandonment, such joy! Lexi is three years old. She has not learned, completely the consequences of choices. Is that a bad thing? I think not. Would it not be good for us all to take a lesson from Lexi that every day, every moment there is a choice to be made, but it is for us to make that choice. And the best news is that if we make the wrong choice, we can start all over because the point of choice is now.

I thank God for my power to choose. I write my life in glowing colors of abundance, joy and love – and some days it might be the color pink!

The Spirit of God

“All good things are possible through God’s spirit within me.” ~ Daily Word Magazine

This past month has been a challenging month for me. It’s what I call a month of transition, a time when my heart tells me to end some things and begin new things. A sense of peace comes over me which helps me to make the right decisions for me. I can remember a time early in my life when I first felt that sense of peace. I was six years old (as in the picture). It was an age of awareness for me as it was when I realized that my mother struggled with an addition to alcohol and that there was nothing I could do to make her well. But what I could do was trust God to be with me at all times. I’m not sure how I knew that, but I did. I always felt there was an angel with me guiding me and supporting me and so I was not alone. I somehow always knew what was right for me.

I’m at that point again during this transition time. I went off the board of one organization, joined a new writers group, expanded my Girl Scout troop and posted everyday on my lifetimewriting.wordpress.com blog in preparation of committing to writing a complete novel in the month of November. And I also keep writing on my lifestyle blog hearthealthyboomer.wordpress.com . So it looks as though my world revolves around writing. But that is not so. As part of my leader position in Girl Scouts, I serve as the publicist for our Service Unit here in Catoosa County. My goal is to send once a week a press release, including photo to the local community paper. So far I am ahead of myself because I am making the effort to seek out what the troops are doing, going to those events and meetings, taking a picture and then sending out the press release.

And then there is my commitment to the P.E.O. International Organization (Philanthropic Educational Organization) that supports women in education. . I’ve been a member for over 37 years, having been initiated in to my mother’s chapter, AB in Louisiana. I’ve served as an officer at both the local and state level and been a member in 8 chapters all over the U.S.A.; the last one I helped to organize here in Tennessee.

It is easy to make time for P.E.O. because there is an unwritten rule that God, family, and P.E.O. rank in importance with all other commitments going after that. Another unwritten rule is to never say NO when asked to do something. In all my years I have said no three times; twice when I was asked to serve on another state board and once when asked to serve as president of my new chapter. The first time I said no I had a legitimate reason, I had gone to work full-time and couldn’t give the office the attention it needed. The second time, my husband asked me not to accept the position. Our business was struggling and he was blind to see how important it was to me. And I did not want to make things worse for him. So I took his advice and regretted it. I don’t blame him. I blame myself for not making it clear to him how important it was to me. I should have trusted my instincts and my faith in God in me. But here’s the kicker. In retrospect I realize he was right. The next three years of our life were crazy and I was needed not only at our business but with the grandchildren. It was the right thing to do; I just didn’t know it at the time.

And when I turned down the presidency of my new chapter, I didn’t hesitate. I didn’t have to consult my husband. I knew that if I was supposed to be the next president of my chapter, I would know it and say yes. The spirit of God within me guides me and gives me the wisdom to do what is right for me. That was my explanation when someone asked me why I turned the position down. And they replied with a desire to have the same kind of faith. I told them they already have it; they just have to tap into it and remember to trust themselves and God.

Fried Green Tomatoes

Fall is in the air. Opening the windows to feel the breeze in the house is delightful. Last weekend we collected the last of the crowder peas and froze them. The other night I cooked half the bag. Paige is spending the night Friday and since she planted the seeds, I thought it appropriate to share the bag with her. She loves baked beans, but I’m not so sure she will like crowder peas. We shall see.

During our hot spell, the tomatoes became stagnant, but the minute the weather cooled off, the yellow blossoms produced lots and lots of tomatoes. Unfortunately, we have to pick them before they are too ripe because we have a squirrel that loves our tomatoes. And then the other morning we woke to find ice on the car windshields. That made me think it was time to take down the tomato bed.

However, I hesitated and sure enough the warm days have returned and once again my tomatoes are turning orange, if not deep red. When the ice scared me and I thought of all the green tomatoes I figured I might as well pick a few and eat them green. Of course that meant I had to fry them first. So for lunch I sliced two tomatoes, dipped them in egg substitute mixed with a little salt and pepper, then into bread crumbs and fried them in a tiny bit of canola oil. They were light and delicious and made for a great lunch.

Every time I fry green tomatoes I think of Fannie Flagg’s book Fried Green Tomatoes at the Whistle Stop. Everybody knows the movie based on the book was a huge success (and one of my all-time favorite movies.) But, in my opinion the book was better than the movie. This is because the book takes the reader past where the story ends in the movie. But it is hard to separate the characters in the movie with the ones in the book. In fact some paperback editions actually have the stars of the movie on the cover.

When I cook something that touches a memory, like fried green tomatoes do, it sparks my soul. It fills me with a sense of peace and connectedness to my own long lost relatives that lived during the depression and shared meals where fried green tomatoes were a staple.

Out of the Mouths of Babes

My Daddy loved his beer. He drank Budweiser beer from a can with a dash (or two) of salt on the lid. So when I came of age (which was 18 in those days) I too drank my beer with a dash of salt. Later I learned that I liked beer from a bottle better than a can and a dash of salt was a waste of time. And then it was about that time that I quit drinking altogether. That lasted about twenty years. That’s not to say I didn’t have a glass of wine or a beer when I went out to dinner or at a party, but never at home or on a regular basis. I had four children to raise and a hard-working husband who did enjoy his two beers a night after a long day at work.

Today my children and their spouses are all hardworking fulltime employees and all enjoy a glass of wine or beer or two after work. I can’t begrudge them that. Times have changed and they are after all grownups raising their own children. After they were all grown and gone from the “nest” I found a wine I liked, and therefore enjoy a couple of glasses in the evening while cooking dinner, but I remember the first time I asked for a glass of wine in front of my children. It was unsettling to say the least. But I needn’t fear for they were all fine with it. That was years ago and it is nice to know that today my children and I see each other as equal adults and not parent and child.

That is why I am grateful my daughter felt comfortable about telling me this story on herself. The other day she came home from work and popped a can of beer. The baby came home from daycare sick and before she could drink her beer, the doctor’s office returned her call. She was surprised to hear they wanted to see the baby right then. My daughter called her three-year-old into the room and said she was taking the baby to the doctor. The three-year-old asked if Daddy was going to stay with her and my daughter said of course and she and the baby would be home soon.

Picking up the baby and heading out the door, the three-year-old cried, “Mommy wait.” My daughter turned and asked what was wrong. Her daughter responded, “You forgot your beer.”

Looking For the Reality of What Is

Within the past month I applied for two jobs….actually re-applied. For you see I had applied once before and was ignored by one and told there were no funds for the position on the other. But a few months had passed and I tried again only to learn that both jobs were available.

Upon being interviewed, I was offered the first job. But I turned it down because at the same time, I interviewed for the second job and accepted that offer. And then I quit the second job before I started. You might think that sounds pretty fickle and in this economy, who turns down or quits a job?

I know what is right for me and what is not and I live each day with that knowledge. As each day unfolds, I am content in knowing that my decisions are the right decisions for me. There have been many times when I have volunteered to do something for someone or some organization and regretted the offer. But I did it anyway, because it was the honorable thing to do. Or so I thought.

But there comes a time in one’s life that we just have to say NO or STOP – no matter what the circumstance. In my case, I was not a good fit and I knew in my heart that would affect my job. I would be unhappy and therefore my work would not be good and by default, I would not be good.

What is next? I don’t know, but I’m not worried. Having my wishes come true is what God wants for me. It is my natural state to co-create my reality with God who is always present in my life. What a great way to wake up in morning and know that as Emma Curtis Hopkins puts it, “a river of light” (God’s light) is running through me lifting me up and supporting me in all my decisions. That is my Reality of What Is.

All Creatures Great and Small

Yesterday I killed a wasp. Today I wake and find my heart is heavy with sadness for the life of one of God’s creatures. We do it all the time; step on an ant, swat a fly, spray insecticide on our garden plants – they are after all “pests” aren’t’ they?

It was late in the afternoon, the sun behind dark clouds that were avoiding us and so the heat was almost bearable on the back porch. Suddenly my husband said from across the porch, “There is a wasp by your head.” For some odd reason I did not run or even move, but sat motionless with my hand resting on my glass of wine.

The wasp flew to the lip of my wine glass and I tried to blow him off. After all, I was able to gently blow a billiards ball into the pocket of the pool table impressing my two-year-old grandson. Surely, I could blow away a wasp.

He flew to the plant on the table next to me and back to my glass. I had a feeling it wasn’t going to be long before he dived into the wine for a swim.

My husband went to get some newspaper. As he did, the wasp landed on my hand. I looked at him and for a fraction of a second there was a connection between one of God’s creatures and myself. He tiptoed along my finger and hopped back onto my glass. About that time my husband returned. I lifted my glass and turned away as he swatted the wasp, killing him. It had to be done; after all he had entered our world. Had he stayed outside with all the other creatures, he would have been safe. Seeing my sadness my husband reminded me of my garden spider who lives just outside my kitchen window and although appears frightening, is in fact a friend, not a pest.

Yeah. I can keep coming up with excuses and I know people will make fun of me for being sad over killing an insect. But there is a lesson in this experience for me and everyone who reads this. Martin Luther King, Jr. once said, “We must develop and maintain the capacity to forgive. He who is devoid of the power to forgive is devoid of the power to love. There is some good in the worst of us and some evil in the best of us.”

I recognize and bless the Divine life in all creatures I encounter (whether they are human or insect). I also forgive myself any instances wherein I don’t live up to those intentions. And doing so, the grief of my heart is relieved and I once again am filled with joy and love for my own life and the lives of all who touch my life.

“Countless are the things you have made, LORD; by your wisdom you have made them all; the earth is full of your creatures.” ~ Psalm 104:24

http://youtu.be/eLeq2vj9kcA

Something to Write About

Last night I had the pleasure of meeting some of the most talented authors in the area. Over twenty were at the Chattanooga Writers’ Guild meeting laden with books, computers, magazines, journals, postcards, posters, and pen in hand to sign a sold book.

I had hoped to prepare them in the event the turnout was not what they expected. And to remember that no matter how many people came to this event, it did not diminish the work they have accomplished as writers. Most of them have other careers including professors at several colleges and universities, business men and women, counselors, and scientists to name a few.

It was a perfect opportunity for them to network as well. But from one writer to another, it was all of our hopes to have a huge crowd buying books. I will look at the evaluation sheets I had the writers fill out and see what I can suggest to the CWG board next year. For this is my last year on the CWG board as it is in our bylaws that one can serve a maximum of three years, and since the first meeting of the year is in September, it was my last time to plan a program as well.

It has been a good three years. I have met some great people and served on the board with a wonderful group of men and women dedicated to making the CWG a great organization meeting the needs of writers in and around the Chattanooga area. I still plan to remain active in the CWG because who would not want to get opportunities like last night?

I met a young woman who wrote her first book and got to see her smile and eyes shine with pride. I met a professor at Dalton State College who told me about some writing classes coming up. I saw a friend who gave me a tip on a story for Catoosa Life Magazine’s September/October issue. I made a new friend in a writer who invited me to help start a new writing group and who told me that another writer, Nancy Williams, who I had not seen in a year or so had died recently. And that made me sad. And then I met a woman from Cleveland who was friends with Marcia Brantley, the missing Cleveland woman who is presumed dead. The last time I saw Marcia was at the CWG board meeting when she was going off the board and and I was coming on. She disappeared right after that, hopefully by choice and not by ill fate. I don’t plan to disappear.

My thoughts are with Nancy’s and Marcia’s family and friends and with all the talented and successful writers that I had the honor of sharing a celebration of publication last night. It was something to write about!

A Magical Moment of Consciousness

When I was a little girl I was never afraid of thunder storms. It was normal to wake and find the sky dark knowing that before long the lighting and thunder and heavy rains would follow. There was a comfort in the knowledge that one action would result in the next action.

I’m not sure it meant the same to my mother who was forced to take me and my siblings to school. I still tried to persuade her to let me walk or ride my bike to school, however, because I loved the feel of the rain pouring down on me washing away my troubles.

I usually found myself laughing out loud as I flew down the hill on my bike. If it had been a particularly difficult week, the rain was a very nice cover for tears to be shed and then I would cry my heart out running home soaking wet.

To my grandmother, who lived only a few blocks away from me, a sudden rain storm was always a nuisance. This is because her daily chore of hanging out the wash got interrupted. I remember often spending the night at her house and hear her cry for me to help her get the laundry off the line. Running out the screen door slamming it behind her, my grandmother’s beautiful white hair, always perfect from her weekly visit to the beauty parlor, would be flying in the wind. I did what I was told and followed her out the house only to see blue skies and sunshine.

She hurried along unpinning the clothes pins, dropping them into the cotton bag hanging on the line and tossing the still damp sheets and towels into her whicker laundry basket. Before I could ask what the hurry was, the rain came in torrents and yet the sun still shone. I asked my grandmother how she knew it was going to rain and she said she smelled it. And then she said, “The devil is beating his wife with a frying pan.” This was because the sun was shining and the rain was falling. It was a truly magical moment.

I always thought that was a funny saying and pretty much forgot about it until the other day when my granddaughter and I were sitting on the back porch and it suddenly began to rain. The sun was shining brightly. For a split second, just before it rained I smelled the rain. And I said, “The devil’s beating his wife with a frying pan.”

I looked over at my granddaughter and I saw in her face the same look I had given my grandmother all those many years ago. And then the most amazing thing happened. Time stood still and I saw in my granddaughter’s eyes, my grandmother’s eyes and then even more amazingly my own eyes reflecting back. To be one with my granddaughter, my grandmother and God, now that was a truly magical moment.

The Secret of Immortality

“Like mother, like daughter – the nicest compliment there is.”

This tiny little verse is printed on a vinyl plaque that my daughter Jennifer gave me one day years ago. She was not a mother yet and still I can say that as she is like me so too is she like her own daughters. The littlest, Emery Kate, only months old, is sweet, calm, happy, and smiles all the time. She makes everyone around her feel loved because she is so generous with her own love.

But it is when her mother picks her up and holds her close to her heart that she is most content and although we all attempted, on our recent trip, to use the technique to get her to sleep, it was my daughter, her mother that was able to get her to sleep the fastest.

I can remember holding Jennifer in my arms when she was about a year old. We were sitting in the living room of our home in Denver, CO in the wooden rocker my parents gave us when our first born, Brian was born. Jennifer and I rocked and talked and hugged and laughed and I said to no one in particular, “My head says you need to grow up, but my heart wants you to stay just like you are right now, my sweet daughter.”

And then there is Alexandra Anne, also known as Lexi or the Lou Lou as she sometimes calls herself. Tiny, smart, funny, a tornado circling a room, a force to be reckoned with and yes like her mother as well; because she is also kind, sweet, and filled with love for everyone she meets. She meets no stranger and is surrounded by a light of happiness that is very contagious just like her mother.

Like mother, like daughters, my daughter has been given the gift of caring for two precious daughters and with the help of a loving husband she can do all things for her daughters. Honoring this gift she has been given comes easy to my daughter, but then she is like me. I thank God every day for having Jennifer in my life as I know she does the same with Emery Kate and Lexi.

And the lessons of love that I learned as a young mother, my own daughter is learning and one day she will pass them down to her two daughters and so on and so on through eternity for that is the secret of immortality.

A Summer Garden and the Simple Life

I’d like to think I’m capable of enjoying a summer garden and the simple life at the same time, but tending a garden is not a simple act. It takes time, endurance, and a certain amount of skill and it does help to not be afraid of worms, insects, and getting dirty ----all of which give me the creeps.

Moving to our new house in April, we found the backyard to be a blank slate. Thinking that when we sold our house on Signal Mountain and moved to north Georgia, we would most likely not have a yard, we gave away the majority of our outdoor tools---even the lawn mower. The good news is that we can share the lawn mower with our son Daniel, who lives eight houses away and who takes turns with his dad cutting the grass in both yards at the same time. Or Mark cuts and Daniel edges; still it is nice to have green grass and a lawn, something I have not had in the sixteen years we lived on Signal Mountain. Of course on SM I had trees and the largest tree I have now is three inches tall….yes, you read right—a sapling growing in my garden….will it or will it not survive? That is the question.

I digress….and therein lies the reason I want a garden to grow my own vegetables, to see the product of my (and I use the word loosely because it is my husband’s green thumb that is the true gardener) efforts from beginning to end; and, to have a place where I can step outside in my nightgown (like my dear friend Debby confesses doing in her morning ritual through her garden) and see for myself the product of our toils. I am the one who sets the plan in motion, with his blessing, I might add, deciding what vegetable to plant; what herb to buy; what flower will enhance that corner of the lot. I even picked out the hedge of Leland Cypresses for the back yard.

But alas, our garden is just a dream right now.

“It is a work in progress,” he says. I decide that is good. Moving forward in any direction is better than standing still.


Two beds were already built around the shed. In one, we planted crowder peas that the granddaughter, Paige planted from seed. When the “bush” peas turned out to be climbers my husband built a trellis out of wood and twine and now the beans are not only climbing reaching for the sun, but flowering and producing a bounty of beans; thank you Paige.

On the other side of the potting shed we planted two tomato plants and later some mint because we plan to plant tomatoes in the big bed next year. In the meantime, we have gotten three tomatoes which is a miracle. It was usually late August before it got warm enough for tomatoes on Signal Mountain. These tomatoes are good, but not like some of the heritage plants from previous years. We will have to experiment in the new bed next year with a variety of tomato plants. But I couldn't help but admire the dew drops on our tomato plants this morning as I walked around the back yard just after the sun rose.

Looking off into the distance I was spell-bound by the fog and mist rolling across the field behind our home. Fodder to the goats and cows that roam the field, it pleases me to be reminded of a simpler time in life when families lived off the land they held so dear. My back yard may be a blank slate but the beautiful raised bed my husband built will be filled with “black gold” dirt and “stuff” from our compost pile. And like the beautiful crowder peas, the larger beds will one day be filled with a bounty of produce that we can not only put on our dinner table, but share with our friends and family not unlike a simpler time in life.

A Sacramental Vision of Being

Sitting in the corner of the porch under the ceiling fan, I could smell the grass being cut next door. The hum of the lawn mower was unusually low and therefore allowed me to hear the birds in the trees on the farm behind my house. Even the silly rooster that crows at all hours of the day seemed unaware that he had competition in the lawn mower.

What I was supposed to be listening to was my granddaughter Paige. Ever since she heard the story of the guinea fowl feather, she has been telling me stories. We sat beside each other rocking in over-sized rockers circling an open pit fire at the Animal Kingdom Lodge while a woman from Africa told us the story. Her African accent thick, at times, so thick I could barely understand her, but the beauty of words, her hands as they moved, and the rapture in Paige’s eyes as she watched was all that I needed to stay alert to the teller.

Today’s story from Paige was one of her with her three cousins, Lexi, Hayden and Emery Kate. Together the four of them danced and played games, rode horses, had a sleep-over, and swam at the beach. Every once in a while a red car would drive down the road behind my house. It would go far down the road and turn south and disappear into the woods on the other side of the farmer’s pasture. It is a mystery to us where he goes and so Paige suggested we follow it one day. And before I knew it, Paige was elaborating on her story adding a mystery or two as the story was told.

It would have been easy to focus on the everyday issues of my life, but I made a conscious decision not to do so. Instead I saw the spiritual in the moment. I looked at the farm, the animals roaming through the fields, the lamb crying out for its mother, the lawn mower humming next door, and my precious granddaughter entertaining her Mimi with her charming stories. Everywhere I looked I saw God.

Hot Tamale Pie for Dinner

Historically speaking, my roots are not from the American Southwest, but my daughter-in-law’s are and it pleases me to cook for my friends and family. So I decided to try a recipe from a tiny little cookbook I found when I unpacked a box marked “Good Cookbooks.” Entitled, A Little Southwest Cookbook by Barbara Karoff, from Chronicle Books, I decided to try the Tamale Pie.

Although authentic tamale pie calls for cooked chicken, I chose to use ground meet (because I had it in the refrigerator.) For me, cooking is way to express myself. I love the smell of onions sautéing in the skillet; add some garlic and the aroma is delightful. This particular recipe did not call for garlic but it did call for black olives which I omitted because some in the family cannot tolerate them. After frying the onions and bell pepper, I added the cooked ground meet, creamed corn, green chilies, and tomatoes.

I also took pleasure in chopping and seeding fresh tomatoes as well as grating fresh cheese. But the most rewarding effort called for was making my own cornmeal mush. This required soaking the cornmeal in water then cooking it in boiling water with chili powder for five minutes stirring constantly.

According to the Arizona Highways Heritage Cookbook, published in 1988 by the Arizona Highways magazine, tamale pie came to the southwest with wagon trains in the late 1800’s. Left-over food mixed with the cornmeal mush and served with salsa made this an easy recipe for travelers. Another recipe I found was in a column “From the Kitchen of Sister Mary,” by Sister Mary on the Society page of a 1931 issue of The Meriden Daily Journal, Meriden, Connecticut. Ingredients are similar but it called for 2 cups of potatoes, but then said the potatoes could be omitted. Key to this recipe and the others I found is that the tamale pie is an adaption of the southwest’s hot tamales and although a little bit time-consuming in prepping, once the cooking starts, it’s a breeze and so delicious in the end.

I have a little plaque my daughter gave me that says, “Like mother, like daughter – the nicest compliment there is.” My daughter does not cook (yet.) My mother was a great cook, however. And like me she used cookbooks and followed the recipe to the T. And like me she always forgot something. In this case, I forgot to serve the Salsa with my tamale pie. I don’t think it mattered. It was the thought that counted.

My joy in preparing the meal; my family’s pleasure in eating it; and another opportunity for me to use God’s power to do good in my life made this hot tamale pie delicioso!

A Time Capsule to Remember

The city of Cordele, Georgia is the “watermelon capitol of the world,” according to its official website www.cityofcordele.com . Conveniently located 140 miles south of Atlanta and 100 miles from the Florida state line on Interstate 75, it is the county seat for Crisp County Georgia. And although its history is rich dating back to the Civil War and for a few days serving as the capital of Georgia, in truth it is a pit stop for Northerners on their way to Walt Disney World or at least it was for us.



It was 4:30 in the afternoon when we reached Cordele after leaving Chattanooga for the land of “where memories are made.” We stopped for gasoline at the intersection of I 75 and state highway 401. Downtown Cordele is located approximately eight blocks west and four blocks south and is located on US Highway 41, which as those of you who live in Tennessee know, US Hwy 41 is the old highway that tourist took to get to Florida before the Interstate system was built.


Because of that, we did not see downtown Cordele but instead were greeted with a Titan Missile which according to the town’s website came to be in 1968. Today it is a time capsule. I asked Paige if she knew what a time capsule was and she explained that it is a box that people put things in and then opened up years later. I was impressed. I asked her where she learned that and she said, “Sponge Bob Square Pants.” (A cartoon show on Nick Jr.)


Of course the reporter in me wanted to know more. So I asked the attendant at the gas station, a young man who was eager to tell me the story. It seems the truck that was hauling the missile from somewhere in Florida broke down on the Interstate there in Cordele. Instead of hauling it to its final destination, which he did not know, towns bid on keeping it and he was proud to announce that Cordele out bid Atlanta. Even more amazing he added that two years ago they realized the missile was still armed. This was backed by the manager/owner who repeated the story to another customer. I’m not sure that I want to believe that an armed missile has been sitting 500 miles from my hometown, but it is a good story and it is an amazing impressive sight to see.




Of course for Paige more amazing was to wonder what the citizens of Cordele placed in their time capsule.

Speaking of Legacies

Today is April 4th. My youngest child was born today. Giving birth to my daughter was the first time I experienced true happiness. Don’t get me wrong, there were many times before she was born that I was happy but none compared to that day thirty-three years ago.

Giving birth to three sons first was delightful and rewarding but I always felt they would be more their father’s child than mine. I could make smart-looking and clever outfits for my sons but it was not the same as smocking a dress or black patented leather Mary Jane shoes with little white lace-trimmed socks.

My sons tease me saying I must have put a bowl on their heads and trimmed off the excess hair. But my daughter’s long wavy hair was combed and brushed until it shined and then she would sit patiently as I French braided it. I was a lucky woman to have that opportunity. And now I get to watch her with her two daughters caring for them with all the same love and care she learned from watching me. I must add here that my two sons who are fathers are remarkable men caring for their children with an abundance of love that they also learned from their father and me.

There is a tornado watch and thunderstorm warning right now. The wind is so fierce that the trees sound like waves on the ocean crashing onto the beach. If you’ve ever been to Atlantic Beach in North Carolina and tried to carry on a conversation you know what I mean.

The pine trees are over four stories high and are swaying right to left and round and round. It reminds me of life moving constantly not unlike our hearts beating. As I think about my daughter celebrating her birthday today, life goes on. I gave birth to her and now she’s a grown woman giving birth to her own girls and one day her daughters will give birth. The cycle goes round and round just as the pine trees in the wind.

We can only give what we have in our hearts. At the root is love and without love there is no life. And life does go on, one legacy after another.

Footnote: Speaking of legacies, I was born on the birthday of one of America’s great leaders, Martin Luther King. My daughter Jennifer was born on the anniversary of his death.

Taking Care of Business

What is it about newborn babies that brings out the best in people? I think it is the way they smell. Or maybe the soft skin or maybe it’s the fact that they have their whole lives ahead of them that makes us feel so good.

I spent two weeks with my daughter Jennifer and her family after the birth of her second daughter Emery Kate Swing on February 1, 2011. Jennifer thought Emery would be easy to say along with her big sister Lexi which is short for Alexandra. Nobody ever calls Lexi Alexandra. And Lexi does not call herself Lexi. She calls herself Lou Lou. But Jennifer spells is Loo Loo and others have spelled it Lu Lu. But it doesn’t matter. If a stranger asked Lexi what her name is, she says, “Lou Lou.” And so far, no one has called Emery by her first name only. We all say, “Emery Kate.”

Babies change so quickly. I wanted to remember the way Emery Kate smelled and the sweet softness of her cheeks and forehead when I kissed her. I wanted to remember the way she sounded when her mother nursed her as if all the world was right. I wanted to keep the picture of her big sister kissing the top of her head and gently patting her tummy when her daddy held his two girls on the couch.

Every night Kevin would come in and build a fire in the living room. In between washing clothes and dishes, and helping Kevin with dinner (Jennifer doesn’t cook) and taking care of Lexi, most of my days are a blur. It was hard on Lexi, not to have a new baby in the house, but to not be in school anymore (no more daycare with mom home now); and not to have mommy lift and carry her (Jen had a c-section and so could not lift Lexi); and so she struggled with emotions that at times none of seemed to know what to do.

One day she and I drove to the train station and went downtown to the library for storytime. She loved it. For a few hours she was the center of my attention and for a few hours I had a glimpse of the precious granddaughter that is so quick to say “I love you Mimi.” I was only sad once during my stay in Charlotte. When Jennifer’s incision seemed to be not healing as it should, I drove her to the doctor’s office. Instead of dragging both girls inside, I drove around town for a while and then picked Jennifer up later when she finished. As we passed up KinderCare, Lexi’s daycare, she saw it and pointed to it saying, “There’s my school.” Jennifer looked back at her and asked her if she missed her friends, and she said yes. I looked in the rear view mirror and saw her look off into the distance and then she said, “Do my friends miss me?” Not quite three and her whole world has changed. But she is strong and young and a blessing to her parents who like her newborn sister is a miracle thanks to Jennifer’s difficulties in getting pregnant.

And so I left my daughter and family, but not after drowning her in advice in between all the other chores. I told her that when I left they would either miss me or sing, “the wicked witch is dead.” But it didn’t matter because in the wee hours of the morning when I rocked the baby to sleep while the rest of the house was quiet, I said my prayers and blessed them with courage to live their lives the way God intends them to live and be the people they are meant to be. What more could I want?

Stay the Course

“Our hearts are restless until they rest in Thee….” -- St. Augustine

One of my favorite scenes in the movie Driving Miss Daisy is the one where Morgan Freeman’s character, Hoke, is driving Miss Daisy (Jessica Tandy) to the Piggly Wiggly grocery store. He turns and she says something like, “You’re doing it wrong.” For he was not going to the store the same way she was used to going. They argued the whole way to the store but in the end they made it.

I had a similar experience with my granddaughter Paige the other day. I picked her up from school and headed to a local restaurant to meet her mother and other grandparents as they and other members of their family gathered after the funeral of Paige’s Uncle Charles. Her mother had given me directions from Paige’s school.

However, I asked Paige if she remembered where this place was and she indeed did. She said, “You go through the park (Chickamauga National Park) and the restaurant in on your right.”

I said, “Well, we are not going through the park. We are coming from the other direction.” But she insisted her way was the only way. I said, “But Paige, that’s the way you do it when you are coming from your Grandma and Papaw’s house. We are coming from your school.”

It still didn’t seem to sink in. She got silent and as I turned left toward the park and the restaurant, Paige said, “Or you could do it this way.” I glanced at her in my rear view mirror and saw the smile on her face and realized we had come to an agreement. After all our goal was the restaurant, not the route we took to get there. And in her mind, it didn’t matter that my way was the wrong way as long as I got her to her mother and family.

I laughed until I cried at the joy of realizing how important it is to the stay the course. All of us make wrong turns; doing or saying something we probably should not have said; having negative thoughts that impair our right thinking. When that happens to me, I remind myself that the path I’m on belongs to God, not me. I am confident in my own destiny because my life is God’s life in me. I am on the right course.

“If we live by the Spirit, let us also be guided by the Spirit.” – Galatians 5:22

Seeing With Clear Vision – January 30, 2011

Recognizing God’s Truth

“I desire to remain and do whatever be your Holy will in my regard.” – Mother Teresa

I guess if someone asked me who my hero was, I’d have to say Mother Teresa. Not because she did good works but because she had the ability to look at people and see God and do so without thinking about it. She was able to live her life in service and humility as if it were the natural thing to do. Led by her belief in God, she knew what to do before being told.

I had a professor at Salem College in Winston-Salem, North Carolina whose lectures turned me into a sponge as I soaked up every word he said. But gradually I came to realize that the things he said or taught, I already knew before he said it. At first it frightened me, but when I questioned him he told me that I already knew the answers, but that I wasn’t ready to hear them in my heart.

Having this knowledge was powerful. To know that inside my being is a wealth of knowledge just waiting for me to recognize as God’s truth and then be called to act upon it without hesitation is transforming. And doing what God calls me to do means that I will know what to do and when to do it, not unlike my hero, Mother Teresa. Now, I may not be treating the sick in a leaper’s colony, but just as Mother Teresa did not see the scars and scabs of the disease of her patients; instead she saw Jesus, I too can choose to look at another and see the face of God.

Each morning I recite a 10-step Tai Chi called “new forest tai chi” by John Bright-Frey. Number Four is CORE – being strong, solid, and sturdy. I add that I have at my core God (and I place my right hand over the center of my chest) and that I center my life in Jesus Christ therefore I lead a balanced life (and I spread my arms wide.) Reminding myself each day that I’m strong and can do whatever I want to do and know that I have the power within me to know what to do before I’m told is recognizing God’s truth.

“and you will know the truth, and the truth will make you free.” – John 8:32

Seeing With Clear Vision; January 27, 2011

Realizing Your Purpose

“Creativity is not something you wait for. It is something that waits for you.” – Neale Donald Walsh

When I was fourteen years old, my Cadette Girl Scout Troop took a bus trip from Baton Rouge, Louisiana to Petite Jean State Park in Arkansas. We had worked hard selling our Girl Scout cookies and made enough money so that our parents didn’t have to foot the complete bill for the trip. Interstate highways were few and far between. So we made the trip north along state highways slowing down as we passed through towns. Somewhere in north Louisiana, we stopped for snacks at a gas station. Inside we purchased snacks, drinks, magazines and paperback books. I picked up a mystery novel by Phyllis A. Whitney. By the time I reached the state park, I had finished the book. And planted in my heart was the desire to be a writer.

The other day I picked up a local magazine that I found interesting, enjoyable to read, and well-done. I immediately felt the pull to write for this magazine, but as usual, fear of rejection crept up and put the procrastinator bug in my mind. The magazine sat for weeks on my desk. Then I remembered that when I am called to do something that appears too large, I need to trust God. I realized the editor of the magazine would never know I was interested in writing for him, if I didn’t let him know. So I typed up an inquiry and hit the send button on my computer.

Being pulled to do what I love should not be a problem; it should be a gift. Listening to what God wants me to do is a joy and with God as my guide, I am successful. For today, I received a response from the editor who is interested in the possibility of my contributing some articles for the magazine and thanked me for my inquiry. He is looking forward to seeing some of my past articles from other magazines and newspapers.

I may not be writing mystery novels or making mega bucks for the work I’ve already published, but being able to put my words down on paper and feel a sense of accomplishment that I have a purpose is a pretty darn good feeling. I realize my purpose and I claim my good.

“You shall be successful.” – Joshua 1:8


Seeing With Clear Vision – January 26, 2011

The Light of Love

“Our obligation is to give meaning to life and in doing so to overcome the passive, indifferent life.” – Elie Wiesel

I was feeling pretty good about things yesterday. I realized that it was the sun. It has been so long since I felt its warmth. I actually had to roll the windows down (well at least part-way!) Waiting in the carpool line I was even disappointed that I got to my granddaughter’s school early enough to be facing away from the sun and not into the sun. Any other time, I’d be grateful, but not yesterday.

Then while listening to the national news at the top of the hour, I heard about the frigid weather hitting our nation’s capital that even the beltway around Washington D. C. had been shut down. After a week of being snowed in earlier this month, I can sympathize with their situation, but I must admit, I did feel more than a little grateful that it was them and not me.

What happens when the sunshine breaks through the clouds and lifts our spirits? In many ways it is like the light of God’s love which is always present even at times when we don’t know it. A dear friend sent me an email yesterday thanking me for making her day a little better. Because of the rain in her part of the country she had not been able to go outside and work in her garden. Instead she had remained inside forcing her to think about things that were not particularly productive. Worry over an acquaintance struggling with life’s problems was heavy on her heart. But in time she and her husband came up with some solutions to help the friend. It may have a dreary day outside, but inside her warm home and within her heart the light of God’s love continued to shine.

I am reminded of the Festival Lights celebrated at Hanukkah whose message is that the eternal light shines in the life of each of us, even in times that seem darkest. No matter what is going on in my life, I can remember the truth that the light of Spirit is shining in our lives.

My joy in feeling the warmth of the sunshine is a reflection of the warmth I feel for my friend. And if something I said or did helped her in some way or gave meaning to an experience she was feeling, then I thank God for that opportunity. It is after all, what we are called to do – to live in goodness and love.

“You are the light of the world.” -- Matthew 5:14

Seeing With Clear Vision – January 25, 2011

Just Breathe

“When we have learned to use it, the breath becomes a support for awareness.” – Jack Kornfield

Last night I dreamed I lived in a one-room apartment in a big city. There was no roof on the apartment. I was lying in bed with my husband and looking at the wide open night sky watching the stars, the planes going by and the twinkling of lights on the tall buildings surrounding the apartment. The noise was terrible but the screaming coming from the next apartment is what I found most disturbing. And then I realized it was my son and the screams were real.

Before my husband and I could question why our son was screaming from the first floor of his home, I heard the screams of his wife calling to me, “Mimi, Mimi, Mimi.” I flew down the stairs to find our grandson choking on the mucus from his cough and shaking and burning up with fever. I’m not sure if they handed him to me or I took him out of their arms but the maternal instinct in me kicked in and I suddenly found myself holding my grandson who was struggling to breathe.

My first inclination was to bring the fever down so I ordered (yes ordered) my husband into the shower, and he did as I said. But I realized what I needed to do is calm the baby down and stop the shaking and crying. I sat down on the bench at the foot of my son’s bed and laid Hayden across my lap on his stomach. My son called 911, my husband got out of the wet clothes from standing in the shower and brought my daughter-in-law a cool washrag which she used to gently bath the baby’s head. We all took a deep breath and watched as Hayden’s sobs turned to heavy breathing to peaceful breathing as I rubbed his back and we whispered comforting words. Finally asleep, the EMS arrived and whisked him and his mother off to T.C. Thompson Children’s Hospital. Two hours later we were home and all is well. Hayden will be fine thanks to the quick action of his parents, his grandparents, the EMS and the staff at the hospital.

Driving back home, I got to thinking about my dream of being surrounded in the chaos of the city noise and then waking to the chaos of my grandson struggling to breathe and that quiet strength that gave me the power to be present in my grandson’s life. At the center of my being is peace because my center and source is God. Surrounded by the presence of God, all of us in the room felt supported and aware of the peace of God. It is all good.

“The peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.” -- Philippians 4:7

Seeing With Clear Vision – January 24, 2011

Seeing With a Clear Vision – January 23, 2011

“Take up the song; forget the epitaph.” – Edna St. Vincent Millay

I am one with God and with all in life. I accept that; I relish it; I am proud to be the person I am; the person God intends me to be. My biggest challenge is to not forget this. I tend to let old fears of insecurity and loneliness creep into my core of being. It is safe and quiet when I close my heart and eyes to the world outside. But is that the real me? I think not.

Every decision I make reflects back on the people in my life be they family, friends, acquaintances, or strangers. If I don’t affirm the truth of who I am, how can I ever be complete? My life would continue to play out as a sour note on a piano that needs tuning. I read once that one should be careful about what they say because your brain might actually take you seriously. For example, if you say, out of habit, “My head is killing me,” you might mean you have a bad headache, but your brain might be actually killing you. I know that it is a little over-dramatic, but you get my point which is that if we have a habit of saying negative things about ourselves, we need a new language or tune.

Having a positive attitude is the first step in living a life of wholeness. Taking this attitude gives me the opportunity to move forward with my life, not look back. It gives me the courage to say, “I am proud of who I am and the choices I make.”

I once interviewed a man who had written a beautiful poem that was used in a memorial service. I asked him if he wanted to add anything to our interview, to give me a quote I could use. He said, “When I die, I’d like people to remember me as a poet and not as a judge.” It got me to thinking of how people would remember me when I die. And then I realized that it was a waste of time thinking about it because I was living it every day. Proof of my experience is in my daily actions. That’s how people will remember me and with God as my source I have everything I need.

“Show by your good life that your works are done with gentleness born of wisdom.” – James 3:13

Seeing With Clear Vision – Jan. 22, 2011

“It is better to have a heart without words than words without a heart.” – Mahatma Gandhi

Today in the wee hours of the morning, this world as my family knows it lost a sweet soul. My daughter-in-law’s Uncle Charles died. His heart gave out after successful bypass surgery. His illness was short-lived having suffered a heart attack on Monday he was gone three days later.

I did not know Charles well, but I loved and respected him because he loved his great-niece, my granddaughter Paige. In fact the last memory Paige and her mother, Debbie have of their Uncle Charles was only a week ago today when they sought him out at the Mall where he worked.

For those of you who did not know him, Charles worked in the Food Court at Hamilton Place Mall. Both physically and mentally handicapped, he was dedicated to his job and worked silently, always in pain and sometimes under the stress of his abilities. Falling or hindered in some way cleaning the tables and emptying the garbage, he continued to smile and greet customers.

Last Saturday, Paige and her mother were at the Mall and as usual looked up their Uncle Charles. It took him a second or two to recognize them, but deep in his heart, he saw them and remembered he had not given Paige a Christmas present. And without thinking about his own needs, he handed her $25 and wished her a Merry Christmas.

Charles was thinking from his heart, not his head. To be able to think from the heart is to live a life of love. He was afraid of people and yet he worked all day surrounded by strangers. He could not take care of himself and yet did not want to be a burden on his brothers and their wives. He struggled remembering what he had for breakfast and yet he saw Paige’s face and knew in his heart that she was special to him. He gave when he did not have to give. That is rich.

The world was a better place because of Charles Turner. I thank God I had the opportunity to get to know him and more importantly I thank God that my granddaughter was blessed to know such a man.

“As a man thinketh in his heart, so is he.” -- Proverbs 23:7

Seeing With Clear Vision - January 21, 2011

“In my end is my beginning.” – T.S. Eliot

Everything I go through in life produces spiritual growth. Two months ago, my husband and I embarked on a most unusual journey – bankruptcy. Not something I ever dreamed would happen to us but it did and, “it is what it is.” There is no shame in filing bankruptcy as our debt was not personal debt but debt incurred from our business. However, our business was our personal debt so it was a very serious step in our journey. I like to think of it as a crook in the road.

I cannot speak to my husband’s state of mind before, during, or after this process ended – only how it has affected me. It is important that I take the time to reflect on this experience and consider its meaning for me. If my husband asked me again to give up our world of corporate finance to start our own business with two of our grown children, would I say yes again? Of course.

Looking back the past sixteen years, our family has grown to include two daughter-in-laws, one son-in-law, three grandchildren and one on the way. My children are best friends to each other and their spouses. They are best friends to my husband and me. When I look at my family I do not see a family stricken with the burden of bankruptcy, I see good, joy, love and peace. Although my children did not lose their home or business, two lost their jobs as they worked for us. But we are all better for the sixteen years we shared in our family business. I consider it a success and not a failure. I am proud that we took a chance and made a difference in the communities we lived and worked.

So what is next? I am not anxious about my life because my good is centered in God and I know my needs will be met. By surrendering to the power, presence and life of God, I become the force of God for good that is reflected in the life I lead. A greater good then comes forth for me and is always available and present in me.

An end has come to my life but it is a chance for me to start fresh and recognize that renewal is a natural process. I affirm that I am a better person because of my circumstances and I will grow and learn from this experience. And it will be a new beginning because I choose to see as God sees and I am one in God.

“For this I was born, and for this I came into the world, to testify to the truth.” –John 18:37