Sometime after I graduated from college I read an article about a man that encouraged people to "give them [loved ones] flowers before they're gone." He explained that too often in life we wait until someone has died to say all the things that we loved and appreciated about them. I decided that I wanted to tell my grandparents what they meant to me, how I perceived them, and what I treasured about who they are or were. This was a gift to my Memaw on Mother's Day several years ago. As the holidays approach, if you simply can't think of something to give to your parents or grandparents, or even your kids, consider "flowers" like these.
For Memaw
(to anyone that might be paying attention, that's my other grandmother)
When I Think of You...
I think of evening escapes to the front porch swing, sitting beside you in the coolness as fireflies begin to light the coming darkness.
I think of the aromas of your kitchen, like early morning coffee and country ham or rutabaga turnips that you can smell from the yard.
I think of the soft scent of magnolias and honeysuckle in the spring which reminds me of the perfect blend of southern sweetness in your voice when you say names like "Mary" or "Martha".
I think of your strength and dependability, like the iron skillet in your cabinet, only when it is placed over heat can it produce rich chocolate icing for a five layer cake and like that sturdy skillet, when you experience intense situations, you manage to produce something good.
I think of the capability of your hands--making biscuits, cradling a baby, stroking my hair, sewing on buttons, and pulling a piece of Wrigley's Double Mint gum from your purse at just the right time.
I think of your gentle alto voice singing hymns and humming lullabies, reading the Bible and offering advice.
Of all these things, the thing that I think of most when I think of you is not something that can be touched, smelled, or tasted. It is your loving acceptance. You have a willingness to forgive quickly and your mercy and compassion have given hope to many in their time of greatest need. This attitude is mirrored in your actions. The fact that there is always room at your table for one more with "plenty of food for everybody" reflects that your heart is overflowing with goodness. You are a gift from God and I am glad he chose to let you be my "Memaw."
Tuesday, November 16, 2010
Saturday, November 13, 2010
Grandparents
I was blessed to know all four of my grandparents, and to know them well. We lived within ten miles of both sets as I grew up, so we had daily or weekly interactions with them all. This week I will honor and pay tribute to them. Only one remains living, and if you asked him, he's been "nearly dead" for the better part of two decades. I want to share them with you as honestly as I am able, but I also want to be reverant in my honesty. They are each remarkable, and each less than perfect, and each well loved by many.
Mamaw
"What is a Mamaw?" a friend asked one day.
My explanation at at the time was, "My Mamaw is my grandmother on my dad's side."
It was an easy enough response, but it did not begin to explain my Mamaw.
Mamaw is popcorn balls and pecan pies.
She is patchwork quilts and homemade dolls.
Mamaw is a hug, a smile, and a tender "I love you."
She is sweet tea, fresh vegetables from the garden, fried okra, and the best Brunswick stew anywhere.
Mamaw is hot chocolate for the football games and half a stick of gum in church.
Mamaw is an open Bible on the end table.
She chases cows back into the broken pasture fence late at night, makes a pallet on the floor when you spend the night.
She gives you peanut butter and Ritz crackers.
She fixes eggs any way you want them and lets you watch "Dukes of Hazzard" and "Dallas" when your mom thinks they are silly shows.
Mamaw is mercy and forgiveness that keep you from getting a spanking on Christmas Day even though you smashed the pecans on the back porch.
Mamaw is full of love and kindness spread generously from her family and friends out into the whole world.
Mamaw is a spirit so sweet and faithful that the simple fruits of her labor will last an eternity.
My Mamaw died a little more than ten years ago. My memories of her are fond. Some days I still long to talk with her; to know how she managed having six children in seven years, a husband who had to be away for long periods due to illness, parents-in-law that she helped nurse through their final years. I think about her smile, laugh and sometimes "questionable" humor...she is the one that made anatomically correct Herschel Walker cabbage patch-like dolls for the boys in the family one Christmas in the early 1980's. She was fun-loving and sincere, always willing to help others, strong in her convictions and character, extraordinary in many ways.
Mamaw
"What is a Mamaw?" a friend asked one day.
My explanation at at the time was, "My Mamaw is my grandmother on my dad's side."
It was an easy enough response, but it did not begin to explain my Mamaw.
Mamaw is popcorn balls and pecan pies.
She is patchwork quilts and homemade dolls.
Mamaw is a hug, a smile, and a tender "I love you."
She is sweet tea, fresh vegetables from the garden, fried okra, and the best Brunswick stew anywhere.
Mamaw is hot chocolate for the football games and half a stick of gum in church.
Mamaw is an open Bible on the end table.
She chases cows back into the broken pasture fence late at night, makes a pallet on the floor when you spend the night.
She gives you peanut butter and Ritz crackers.
She fixes eggs any way you want them and lets you watch "Dukes of Hazzard" and "Dallas" when your mom thinks they are silly shows.
Mamaw is mercy and forgiveness that keep you from getting a spanking on Christmas Day even though you smashed the pecans on the back porch.
Mamaw is full of love and kindness spread generously from her family and friends out into the whole world.
Mamaw is a spirit so sweet and faithful that the simple fruits of her labor will last an eternity.
My Mamaw died a little more than ten years ago. My memories of her are fond. Some days I still long to talk with her; to know how she managed having six children in seven years, a husband who had to be away for long periods due to illness, parents-in-law that she helped nurse through their final years. I think about her smile, laugh and sometimes "questionable" humor...she is the one that made anatomically correct Herschel Walker cabbage patch-like dolls for the boys in the family one Christmas in the early 1980's. She was fun-loving and sincere, always willing to help others, strong in her convictions and character, extraordinary in many ways.
Monday, November 8, 2010
Family: What I've Learned from Sunday Lunches
When I think about the things that are most important to me, I recall warm kitchens, a gentle caress, the sound of excited voices as they watch a football game, and the continual smiles shared by my family.
This group of people became a part of my life the moment I was born and has taught me to live each moment after.
Through struggles and celebrations they have shown me how much can be accomplished during a Sunday afternoon lunch.
They've allowed me to see that life isn't a race to be run as quickly as possible, but it's more like baking a cake. Once you've combined all the ingredients and mixed them well, it's best to let yourself sit quietly for awhile as the sweet aroma of your actions encompasses you. Your work becomes a masterpiece and the greatest joy comes when you share it with others.
Oh yes... that's how my family responds to life, like a Sunday lunch.
At first we admire its beauty, but we don't allow it to remain untouched long enough to spoil. We consume it and enjoy each flavor. There are times that life is as sour as the lemonade that someone forgot to add sugar to, or the pickles that sit in the shadow of the potato salad, but then there are also moments when it is as sweet as apple pie with ice cream melting over the sides.
Life combines the warms and the colds, the sweets and the sours, the goods and the bads, until you have that perfect combination that cannot be resisted, but only enjoyed. And when it is all over, you look back with satisfaction at all that you've experienced.
This group of people became a part of my life the moment I was born and has taught me to live each moment after.
Through struggles and celebrations they have shown me how much can be accomplished during a Sunday afternoon lunch.
They've allowed me to see that life isn't a race to be run as quickly as possible, but it's more like baking a cake. Once you've combined all the ingredients and mixed them well, it's best to let yourself sit quietly for awhile as the sweet aroma of your actions encompasses you. Your work becomes a masterpiece and the greatest joy comes when you share it with others.
Oh yes... that's how my family responds to life, like a Sunday lunch.
At first we admire its beauty, but we don't allow it to remain untouched long enough to spoil. We consume it and enjoy each flavor. There are times that life is as sour as the lemonade that someone forgot to add sugar to, or the pickles that sit in the shadow of the potato salad, but then there are also moments when it is as sweet as apple pie with ice cream melting over the sides.
Life combines the warms and the colds, the sweets and the sours, the goods and the bads, until you have that perfect combination that cannot be resisted, but only enjoyed. And when it is all over, you look back with satisfaction at all that you've experienced.
Sunday, November 7, 2010
Tribute to Family--Because we put the "fun" in dysfunctional
No family is perfect. We all have our own flavor of dysfunction and if you think that your family is not dysfunctional, then your flavor is called DENIAL. Even in our imperfections and dysfunction, I am thankful for the families I'm a part of...the one I was born into, the one I've married into, and the one that is growing with my own children.
This month I'll be spending some time honoring individual family members and our family as a whole. My family is one of many things that I have to be thankful for. I hope that you'll be encouraged to embrace and appreciate your own.
This month I'll be spending some time honoring individual family members and our family as a whole. My family is one of many things that I have to be thankful for. I hope that you'll be encouraged to embrace and appreciate your own.
Thursday, October 28, 2010
Getting Out
Once a week I leave my family for a few hours and sit in a room in a "manufactured home community" with a group of women that are becoming my friends.
This time is precious to me, not just because it gives me an hour of quiet while I drive 30 minutes each way, but because I feel like I'm accomplishing something while I'm there.
The majority of the women in the room with me don't speak English as their native language. I don't know the status of their residency here or what type of documentation they do or don't have. That isn't why I'm there. I'm teaching English. I'm sharing stories, listening to dreams, answering questions and I'm developing relationships. I'm sitting with women who are mothers, wives, sisters, and daughters far away from all that is familiar. I'm helping them navigate grocery shopping, parent-teacher conferences, doctor's offices, and job applications. I'm laughing at things that amuse us all and feeling concern for issues that can't easily be remedied.
I know that it is frustrating to want to communicate something that you simply don't have the words for. I know the vulnerability of living in a place with a culture very different from the one you've always known. I know the imbalance and struggle of wanting your children to be more fluent than yourself, but trying not to depend on their fluency and become complacent in your own attempts to learn a new language.
When I hear people complaining about immigrants and how "they need to learn English if they want to live here" I have a few questions I want to ask:
1-Will you help teach one person English?
2-Do you speak another language fluently?
3-Have you ever loved someone who didn't speak the same language as you?
If you're able to answer "yes" to any of the above questions, I'm willing to continue discussing this issue with you. If your answer to all three questions is, "no" then we should probably change the subject.
This time is precious to me, not just because it gives me an hour of quiet while I drive 30 minutes each way, but because I feel like I'm accomplishing something while I'm there.
The majority of the women in the room with me don't speak English as their native language. I don't know the status of their residency here or what type of documentation they do or don't have. That isn't why I'm there. I'm teaching English. I'm sharing stories, listening to dreams, answering questions and I'm developing relationships. I'm sitting with women who are mothers, wives, sisters, and daughters far away from all that is familiar. I'm helping them navigate grocery shopping, parent-teacher conferences, doctor's offices, and job applications. I'm laughing at things that amuse us all and feeling concern for issues that can't easily be remedied.
I know that it is frustrating to want to communicate something that you simply don't have the words for. I know the vulnerability of living in a place with a culture very different from the one you've always known. I know the imbalance and struggle of wanting your children to be more fluent than yourself, but trying not to depend on their fluency and become complacent in your own attempts to learn a new language.
When I hear people complaining about immigrants and how "they need to learn English if they want to live here" I have a few questions I want to ask:
1-Will you help teach one person English?
2-Do you speak another language fluently?
3-Have you ever loved someone who didn't speak the same language as you?
If you're able to answer "yes" to any of the above questions, I'm willing to continue discussing this issue with you. If your answer to all three questions is, "no" then we should probably change the subject.
Sunday, October 24, 2010
Fantasy vs. Reality: Revelations from Disney (Part 3)
The Virtue and Vice of Fantasy
A little girl dreams of being a princess--not just an overindulgent spoiled girl, but the child of a king, able to bring positive change to the masses, her beauty matched only by her goodness. Like the title character in Frances Hodgson Burnett's, A Little Princess, she knows, deep down, that she's a princess even when her circumstances indicate otherwise.
A little boy longs to be a superhero--defending justice, protecting the weak, defeating the "bad guys". He has a weakness of his own, but his strength is proved greater each time he battles evil and gains another victory for good.
The childhood fantasies built on fables & fairy tales are not all bad. They can actually be quite good, which is why it was so exciting to visit Disney World with my children while they are young. It is a "magical" place. A place where fables and fairy tales come to life, and yet, even in this place, I was continually drawn back to reality.
It is fun to be in a fantasy land. However, when you are responsible for others, even in a fantasy your choices have consequences. If we stayed in the sun all day we could have great fun, but without sunscreen we would suffer the consequences of sunburn indefinitely. We could eat junk food and let our young children skip naps because we were having fun, but the consequences of cranky and irritable kids and adults would soon catch up with us.
I've noticed, as we've recently been reading some of the original tales of H.C. Andersen, The Brothers Grimm, and even Mother Goose nursery rhymes, that there is a depth to these tales that our modern culture seems to overlook, or even eliminate in the retelling.
Take The Little Mermaid, for example. If you've never read the original, by Hans Christian Andersen, you should. The images created by his words in the opening paragraph are exquisite. I love the Disney version & can sing along with each tune, but I can't get over the extraordinary differences between the two tales and the subtle messages each presents to the audience.
In Andersen's tale the little mermaid suffers greatly for the "deal" she makes with the enchantress who lived under the sea. If she is unable to win the love of the prince, she will cease to exist. She receives legs to visit the prince she rescued, but she loses her voice and experiences excruciating pain when she walks or dances and her feet bleed terribly. She does not win the prince's love, her sister's also make personal sacrifices to try to save their younger sister, and in the end she is separated from her love and her family.
In the Disney version, Ariel directly disobeys her father, Triton. She makes the "deal" with the sea witch and also exchanges her voice for legs, though not nearly so painfully as Andersen's version. If she is unable to win the prince's affection, she will become a mermaid again and belong to the sea witch. She does win the love of the prince, without ever speaking. Her father sacrifices himself for her happiness. When the sea witch is defeated and all spells are broken, Ariel receives her father's blessing and he grants her desire to be human.
So here is my struggle. "Happily ever after" endings are fun. They're just not realistic when you are making choices that have unhappy consequences. And here is where the fables and fairy tales of childhood make their way into adulthood.
I am concerned that our current culture is selling a version of fantasy to adults that ignores the natural consequences of such fantasies. Since we have access to information and images at a much more rapid pace than even 15 years ago, we must be even more diligent when choosing where we will focus our attention.
During the drive to and from Disney I was bombarded with advertisements emblazoned on billboards announcing various types of fantasy without mention of the consequences. None of the signs that welcomed truckers with promises to "bare it all" warned men that partaking in such fantasies would inhibit or greatly impair their ability to have true intimacy with women now or in the future, could destroy marriages, and/or cause extraordinary damage to their children. None of the advertisements for books or movies in the Twilight series warned women that if you "need" someone the way that Bella and Edward do, you're probably right in the middle of an extremely unhealthy cycle of co-dependency that will likely prevent either partner from experiencing wholeness.
Maybe the surgeon general should start printing warnings for these adult forms of fantasy. To keep things simple, she could just write, "WARNING: YOUR CHOICES DO HAVE CONSEQUENCES".
A little girl dreams of being a princess--not just an overindulgent spoiled girl, but the child of a king, able to bring positive change to the masses, her beauty matched only by her goodness. Like the title character in Frances Hodgson Burnett's, A Little Princess, she knows, deep down, that she's a princess even when her circumstances indicate otherwise.
A little boy longs to be a superhero--defending justice, protecting the weak, defeating the "bad guys". He has a weakness of his own, but his strength is proved greater each time he battles evil and gains another victory for good.
The childhood fantasies built on fables & fairy tales are not all bad. They can actually be quite good, which is why it was so exciting to visit Disney World with my children while they are young. It is a "magical" place. A place where fables and fairy tales come to life, and yet, even in this place, I was continually drawn back to reality.
It is fun to be in a fantasy land. However, when you are responsible for others, even in a fantasy your choices have consequences. If we stayed in the sun all day we could have great fun, but without sunscreen we would suffer the consequences of sunburn indefinitely. We could eat junk food and let our young children skip naps because we were having fun, but the consequences of cranky and irritable kids and adults would soon catch up with us.
I've noticed, as we've recently been reading some of the original tales of H.C. Andersen, The Brothers Grimm, and even Mother Goose nursery rhymes, that there is a depth to these tales that our modern culture seems to overlook, or even eliminate in the retelling.
Take The Little Mermaid, for example. If you've never read the original, by Hans Christian Andersen, you should. The images created by his words in the opening paragraph are exquisite. I love the Disney version & can sing along with each tune, but I can't get over the extraordinary differences between the two tales and the subtle messages each presents to the audience.
In Andersen's tale the little mermaid suffers greatly for the "deal" she makes with the enchantress who lived under the sea. If she is unable to win the love of the prince, she will cease to exist. She receives legs to visit the prince she rescued, but she loses her voice and experiences excruciating pain when she walks or dances and her feet bleed terribly. She does not win the prince's love, her sister's also make personal sacrifices to try to save their younger sister, and in the end she is separated from her love and her family.
In the Disney version, Ariel directly disobeys her father, Triton. She makes the "deal" with the sea witch and also exchanges her voice for legs, though not nearly so painfully as Andersen's version. If she is unable to win the prince's affection, she will become a mermaid again and belong to the sea witch. She does win the love of the prince, without ever speaking. Her father sacrifices himself for her happiness. When the sea witch is defeated and all spells are broken, Ariel receives her father's blessing and he grants her desire to be human.
So here is my struggle. "Happily ever after" endings are fun. They're just not realistic when you are making choices that have unhappy consequences. And here is where the fables and fairy tales of childhood make their way into adulthood.
I am concerned that our current culture is selling a version of fantasy to adults that ignores the natural consequences of such fantasies. Since we have access to information and images at a much more rapid pace than even 15 years ago, we must be even more diligent when choosing where we will focus our attention.
During the drive to and from Disney I was bombarded with advertisements emblazoned on billboards announcing various types of fantasy without mention of the consequences. None of the signs that welcomed truckers with promises to "bare it all" warned men that partaking in such fantasies would inhibit or greatly impair their ability to have true intimacy with women now or in the future, could destroy marriages, and/or cause extraordinary damage to their children. None of the advertisements for books or movies in the Twilight series warned women that if you "need" someone the way that Bella and Edward do, you're probably right in the middle of an extremely unhealthy cycle of co-dependency that will likely prevent either partner from experiencing wholeness.
Maybe the surgeon general should start printing warnings for these adult forms of fantasy. To keep things simple, she could just write, "WARNING: YOUR CHOICES DO HAVE CONSEQUENCES".
Sunday, October 17, 2010
Fantasy vs. Reality: Revelations from Disney (Part 2)
Picture with a Princess
Have you ever had the opportunity to meet someone that you admired from a distance? Maybe it was a celebrity, an author, a politician, a sports figure, a musician? When you were finally face to face with this person, how did you respond?
Last weekend, my three-year-old, Mackenzie, met some REAL princesses. Five real princesses, to be exact. While at Disney we decided to surprise the kids with some "Character Dining" experiences, so that each one could get a little extra time with some of their favorite characters. Mackenzie's dining experience was first.
As the hostess escorted us into the restaurant, we were "next in line" to meet Belle, from Beauty and the Beast. Mackenzie's eyes lit up with excitement and she immediately began to reach for a hand, or leg, or any part of a familiar person that she could hold to help calm the anxiety that comes when she meets someone new. She wasn't prepared to make the introductions alone and Daddy was holding the camera, so I walked forward with her. Annie, our not-quite-two-year-old, slept soundly on my shoulder.
Belle was gracious. She knelt down to talk with Mackenzie and listened carefully, trying to discern the whispers that only a Mommy or Daddy can translate into recognizable words. She made a clever comment that Annie must be Sleeping Beauty. Then we stood together and smiled as a photographer snapped a picture that would become a commemorative keepsake.
We enjoyed our meal. Just as dessert was served, the other princesses began making their trip through the dining area, stopping at each table to talk with starry-eyed girls. Mackenzie was excited and nervous at the same time. She would wiggle in her seat, unable to sit still as each princess came closer and closer to our table. Then she would be frozen in awe as each one stopped beside her chair and began to talk. It was such fun to watch.
Near the end of the meal, we received the photo that was taken when we entered the restaurant. I opened the folder. I looked at the photo. And as most women will, I began to scrutinize myself, not aloud, but the words were there, running through my mind as fast as the synapses could fire.
I continued to think about this photo throughout the day. I was reminded once again that, "I must continually choose between the pursuit of a fantasy or acceptance of reality."
If I choose the pursuit of a fantasy, in this situation, I'll be apt to make comments about the things that I view as my own imperfections. We've all heard women do this, whether while looking in the dressing room mirror, flipping through old photo albums, or watching home movies. "My hips look so wide...Does my stomach really hang over my pants like that?...My eyes are so small...My nose is too big...I should never wear a swimsuit again, EVER...Why did you let me wear that?...I look awful!" And the list could go on.
Then the reality sinks in. The words that I speak about myself now are the words that will play back in my daughter's mind as she gets older. She will receive plenty of messages from the media and her peers about what her positive and negative attributes are. The most consistent messages she receives will come from home. I must use my words responsibly because "the tongue has the power of life and death". One day, someone might say, "You remind me so much of your mom." I want my daughters to receive this as a positive. I don't want them to replay negative comments that I made about myself.
When I look at the picture with Belle now, I see it more clearly. Belle is a cartoon character. Cartoon characters don't age. Cartoon characters don't live. Belle went through wardrobe, hair, and make-up then stood in an air conditioned building before we met. I woke up and bathed 3 children, walked in the central Florida humidity, and stood in the sun for a few minutes before we met. Belle stands with shoulders back, hands posed, and a smile that doesn't reach her eyes. I stand leaning a little, one hand to support my own excited and nervous princess, one hand holding the sleeping child on my shoulder, and a smile that creases the corners of my eyes.
Fantasy may make a pretty picture, but reality makes life more enjoyable.
Have you ever had the opportunity to meet someone that you admired from a distance? Maybe it was a celebrity, an author, a politician, a sports figure, a musician? When you were finally face to face with this person, how did you respond?
Last weekend, my three-year-old, Mackenzie, met some REAL princesses. Five real princesses, to be exact. While at Disney we decided to surprise the kids with some "Character Dining" experiences, so that each one could get a little extra time with some of their favorite characters. Mackenzie's dining experience was first.
As the hostess escorted us into the restaurant, we were "next in line" to meet Belle, from Beauty and the Beast. Mackenzie's eyes lit up with excitement and she immediately began to reach for a hand, or leg, or any part of a familiar person that she could hold to help calm the anxiety that comes when she meets someone new. She wasn't prepared to make the introductions alone and Daddy was holding the camera, so I walked forward with her. Annie, our not-quite-two-year-old, slept soundly on my shoulder.
Belle was gracious. She knelt down to talk with Mackenzie and listened carefully, trying to discern the whispers that only a Mommy or Daddy can translate into recognizable words. She made a clever comment that Annie must be Sleeping Beauty. Then we stood together and smiled as a photographer snapped a picture that would become a commemorative keepsake.
We enjoyed our meal. Just as dessert was served, the other princesses began making their trip through the dining area, stopping at each table to talk with starry-eyed girls. Mackenzie was excited and nervous at the same time. She would wiggle in her seat, unable to sit still as each princess came closer and closer to our table. Then she would be frozen in awe as each one stopped beside her chair and began to talk. It was such fun to watch.
Near the end of the meal, we received the photo that was taken when we entered the restaurant. I opened the folder. I looked at the photo. And as most women will, I began to scrutinize myself, not aloud, but the words were there, running through my mind as fast as the synapses could fire.
I continued to think about this photo throughout the day. I was reminded once again that, "I must continually choose between the pursuit of a fantasy or acceptance of reality."
If I choose the pursuit of a fantasy, in this situation, I'll be apt to make comments about the things that I view as my own imperfections. We've all heard women do this, whether while looking in the dressing room mirror, flipping through old photo albums, or watching home movies. "My hips look so wide...Does my stomach really hang over my pants like that?...My eyes are so small...My nose is too big...I should never wear a swimsuit again, EVER...Why did you let me wear that?...I look awful!" And the list could go on.
Then the reality sinks in. The words that I speak about myself now are the words that will play back in my daughter's mind as she gets older. She will receive plenty of messages from the media and her peers about what her positive and negative attributes are. The most consistent messages she receives will come from home. I must use my words responsibly because "the tongue has the power of life and death". One day, someone might say, "You remind me so much of your mom." I want my daughters to receive this as a positive. I don't want them to replay negative comments that I made about myself.
When I look at the picture with Belle now, I see it more clearly. Belle is a cartoon character. Cartoon characters don't age. Cartoon characters don't live. Belle went through wardrobe, hair, and make-up then stood in an air conditioned building before we met. I woke up and bathed 3 children, walked in the central Florida humidity, and stood in the sun for a few minutes before we met. Belle stands with shoulders back, hands posed, and a smile that doesn't reach her eyes. I stand leaning a little, one hand to support my own excited and nervous princess, one hand holding the sleeping child on my shoulder, and a smile that creases the corners of my eyes.
Fantasy may make a pretty picture, but reality makes life more enjoyable.
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