Snail Mail

You know how sometimes when you think of certain people a memory comes to mind that is so clear and precise that you can almost reach out and touch them?  That happened to me yesterday. I was thinking about my grandmother and how she was the family ‘coordinator’ (for lack of a better word). She was an only child but grew up with lots of cousins and married into a big family. The matriarch of our family, she stayed in touch with everyone and passed along information from one branch of the family to another. Between the telephone and her kitchen table, she kept us all up on what was happening with everyone. She kept cards, stationery, and stamps right there at hand on her table and wrote notes almost every morning, passing along news and letting us know she was thinking about us. Her stamps were on a roll in a little wooden mailbox that a friend had made for her. Yesterday morning, I had the sharpest picture of her in my mind sitting at that table and writing a letter, the sunlight filtering through that big ole oak tree on her patio and coming through the window onto her.  I soooo wish I had a photo of her sitting there or was artistically talented enough to draw that picture I had in my mind.  Just some good memories there. 

She was born in the time before telephones were commonplace and letters were still the main way of communicating with others. Writing was a habit she developed early in her life. However, when telephones did become common place, she utilized it, regularly calling and receiving calls from family and friends all over the country. She never talked long because, at that time, those calls were long distance and cost more but family and staying in touch with them was important. Back then you paid per minute to talk on the phone, unlike today when you can talk two minutes or two hundred for the same cost.

Anyway, she would get the news from my great uncle’s family in California and pass it along to my great uncle’s family in Oklahoma when she talked to them a little later that day. Or, more often, unless it was time sensitive, she would relay it by letter within the next few days. Of course, it would take a week or so for the letter to arrive and essentially be old news by then, certainly by today’s standards. No one minded, though, because that’s just how it was. Important or big news such as a death in the family or the birth of a child would certainly be shared by telephone, but details and things such as an engagement or pregnancy might be revealed by mail.

Her address book was kept up to date continuously and if you needed an address for anyone, she was the one you asked. They were all written in pen and when it changed, she would mark through it and make a new entry. She remembered birthdays, anniversaries, doctors appointments, and pretty much any big event because she wrote it all down in a big calendar (we’d call it a planner today) she kept on that kitchen table with her letter writing supplies. Now, we have all of that info at our fingertips in a phone the size of one of the envelopes she would mail a card in back then.

She loved getting mail as much as she enjoyed sending it. Just like a kid, her eyes would light up when she spotted a hand addressed envelope and a fun stamp in her mailbox. While she usually used the flag stamps that came in a roll, she would also occasionally buy a sheet of fun stamps to use on her letters because it made them fun. I loved getting mail from her with unusual stamps on the envelope. She loved stationery and pretty note cards but would just as easily write you a note on a piece of notebook paper if that’s what was handy. One thing that I never realized until I started thinking about this today is that she didn’t care that her stuff was out on the table and not put away out of sight. She wanted it accessible so it was easier for her to write every day. It was right there where she ate all of her meals within easy reach and she made it a habit that she didn’t give up until she had to because she couldn’t write anymore. She was a smart woman and knew how to get things done!

With the technology that we have today where we can send a text or an email and get a reply in a matter of seconds, letter writing is fast becoming a lost art. My cousin said something on Facebook the other day about missing writing and receiving letters. (I’m sure he was the recipient of many a letter from my grandmother, too!) It motivated me to sit down and write him a letter…granted, it was typed on my computer but it was a letter. That I put in an envelope and mailed. With a fun stamp. I enjoyed it and think I’ll do it again soon! I also think I’ll find me a basket and put my letter writing supplies in it and find a place to put it where it will be handy for when I have a few minutes to jot a note to someone. I may even pull out my old fashioned address book and update it!

Letters are visits when friends are apart.

Opening Day of Dove Season

Saturday was opening day of dove season in Alabama. For our family, it’s a tradition that we look forward to almost as much as football season or even Christmas.  It’s a tradition that started a lot of years ago when my brother-in-law invited a few friends and family members over for an opening day shoot.  It was very casual and laid back and everyone had a good time. We didn’t attend those first few years because we lived too far away to come for the weekend.  We had to reserve our trips for holidays and summer when we could stay longer. 

My father-in-law loved the dove hunt. He loved having the family together and sharing something he enjoyed with his sons and grandchildren. He passed away in 2010 and now we dedicate the hunt to his memory every year.  I think KB managed to get back a couple of times and hunt but our whole family didn’t start attending until 2012. That was the year that we moved to PA and were close enough to go for the weekend.  All or most of of us have been able to go every year since. 

We all converge at my brother-in-law’s house early and have lunch. Then we head over to the dove field and spread out  along the edges and wait for the doves to fly in.  That’s where I was as I was typing this. I didn’t get back to good internet until today to post it.  This was my view most of the day.

Over the years the hunt became bigger as all of the kids grew up and invited friends. The last several years it’s become more family than friends but we still have a couple of close family friends that come.  This year we have two little ones that really made the day even more fun than usual.

Unfortunately, this year my kids weren’t able to be there due to work and a sick fur baby but things happen in life…that’s just how it is. We really hated that they weren’t there but we all had a good time anyway and almost everyone got their limit.  The first year I attended, I took my camera because I would rather shoot pictures of people shooting doves than shoot the doves themselves. Every year since, it’s sort of been my thing. We’re already looking forward to next year!

“The memories we make with our family is everything.” – Candace Cameron Bure.

Family Treasures and Peach Cobbler

I’ve been wanting some gumbo for several days. Today, when we woke up to a rainy, gray, dreary day, I decided it was a good day to make gumbo but I needed to go to the grocery store to pick up a few things first.

As soon as I walked in, I saw this big ole display of Chilton County peaches. Chilton County, Alabama is known for their peaches and having grown up in Alabama, I am quite familiar with them. I grew up eating them and although I’ve had some wonderful peaches all over the world, there’s just none like the ones from Chilton County in my mind. Anyway, when I smelled them, I had this overwhelming craving for peach cobbler. So, of course, six of them found their way home with me.

I have this old, somewhat beat up pan that belonged to my great-grandmother. It was her cobbler pan. Now, I was so blessed to know three of my eight great-grandparents and this great-grandmother is one of them. She lived with my grandparents and I have such wonderful memories of her. She had this jar of buttons that she would let me play with, stacking and matching, and counting them endlessly. I’d pick one out and she could tell me exactly where it came from. What dress, skirt, shirt, or jacket it had been on. That always amazed me. She would let me lie down on the sofa next to her and put my head in her lap and she would count my ribs. It tickled and I would giggle and squirm and she would get tickled at me. Such sweet memories!

Although I don’t use that pan very often, I decided to use it today. Not too long ago, I came across a few recipes from my grandmother that I had forgotten about and one of them was her peach cobbler recipe. I pulled it out and got busy. I peeled those peaches, and put them in that pan and made the crumbly topping. Then, I sprinkled it on top of those peaches and put it in the oven. Y’all…..that is the best cobbler I’ve ever made. Even KB was impressed. He had his with vanilla ice cream on it and he hummed when he took that first bite.

I love that I have these family treasures; the pan and the recipe, and the wonderful memories that they bring to mind. There’s something about using a decades old pan and recipe that brings comfort and hope, and just makes you feel good, knowing that you’re carrying on a tradition that ties you to the generations that went before. One day, I’ll pass that pan down to my son or daughter. I have a feeling that pan has a lot more cobblers to be made in it!

Nanny’s Peach Cobbler

6 ripe peaches, peeled and sliced

1 stick of cold butter 

1 cup self-rising flour

1 cup sugar

Put one TBSP of melted butter in the pan. Layer the sliced peaches in the pan. Mix the rest of the stick of butter with the flour and sugar. Crumble it all together. I use my hands to mix it, smushing the butter into the flour and sugar until it’s sort of mealy. Then sprinkle it all on top of the peaches. Do not stir. Bake in a 350 degree oven until done, about 45 minutes. Serve warm with ice cream if desired. 

Food is the ingredient that binds us together.

Easter Memories

Normally, on Easter Sunday, if we were ‘home’ (in Alabama) we would gather at my grandmother’s for fabulous food, eggs hunts, and those dratted family pictures that almost everyone hates but tolerates because it’s important to some. This year is so different and  it feels odd to not be together.  But, we all have to do the right thing and stay home because the last thing any of us want to do is bring this stupid virus into Nanny’s house! 

I have such wonderful memories of Easter over the years.  Of course, when we were little, we got all dressed up and went to church and then we would have dinner at one of the grandparents’ houses. Then we’d go to the other grandparent’s house. Someone would hide eggs for us kids and  we’d have so much fun finding them. Even when it rained and we had to hide them inside. One year my  uncle -who is still the master at hiding the eggs where they’re hard to find-hid one behind the pillow on the sofa. We looked and looked all over that sofa for it! It fell down between the back of the sofa and the cushion and it was several days later before it was found because it had started to smell.  LOL I think that may have been the last year we used real eggs inside. We would almost always have to play the hot and cold game to find that last egg. 

Everyone has their traditional meals or foods they eat on holidays and we are no different. Our traditional meal is not that much different than any other time we were together for a holiday except ham would be the meat instead of turkey or roast. But, the desserts…coconut cake was the Easter dessert. I wasn’t a fan as a kid but oh, how I’d love  to have one this  year! My mother would make one in the shape of a bunny.  Y’all have probably seen the recipe for it making the rounds on Facebook. She was doing that 50 years ago!

This year, we’re all staying home and watching church on tv or our computers.  Our church here had a drive in church this morning and it was great! We had over 100 cars attend. We honked our horns in response and as our way to participate in the service. It was fun. The pastor brought a great message and our praise team sang several songs. One of the songs we sang was Because He Lives. It brought back wonderful memories of my great aunt and uncle singing at family get togethers. That was one they would sing. Rise Again is another one. I get goosebumps thinking about it. 

In years to come, this Easter will be one we’ll talk about because it’s so different  than any other Easter we’ve ever experienced. But, just because we aren’t doing the  things we usually do, the meaning of why we celebrate hasn’t changed. The tomb is empty and Jesus, our Redeemer and Savior lives.  “He is not here; he has risen!” Luke 24:6  That’s the best thing we can remember about Easter!  

My Easter card this year.

 

 

 

 

 

Words Matter

The other day, I was tired and in a foul mood. My husband was pushing me to do something I did not want to do but that needed to be done. We’ve been married for 32 years and over that time, I’ve learned to curb my tongue and not say the first thing that comes to mind because well, sometimes the first thing that I want to say isn’t the best thing to be said. Or maybe not the best way to say it. But, sometimes my mouth says what it wants to before my brain can stop it. This was one of those days.

He said something-totally unrelated to the situation at hand-and I snapped at him and not only was my tone of voice mean and somewhat condescending, my words weren’t kind. As soon as I said it, I regretted it and felt terrible for saying it. The look on his face told me I had not only made him mad, but I had hurt his feelings. He made a remark something to the effect that he just couldn’t do anything right today and he would go hide in his room (man cave) until I was ready to be nice.  That’s all it took to take the wind right out of my sails and the anger and frustration just drained away.

I knew that we both needed to calm down and take a few minutes before we said anything else we shouldn’t so I went on about my business for a little while before I went to him and apologized. He was very gracious about it and gave me a hug and told me it was forgiven and forgotten within a few minutes of it happening.  Maybe so, but for me, it weighed on me, because I’m usually much better about curbing my tongue.

Words have tremendous power. Every word you speak has the power to hurt or heal. Once you’ve uttered them, you can’t erase them or take them back. Anyone that has been chastised or yelled at will tell you that they remember the words that were hurled at them much longer than they do the action that prompted them. It’s a proven fact that children that are repeatedly told they are stupid or incompetent or ugly have low self-esteem and don’t perform as well in school-or in life-as children that are often told they are smart, have great ability, or pretty.  We’ve all heard the old adage “Sticks and stones may break my bones but words will never hurt me.” This is NOT true. The wounds caused by sticks and stones will heal but the ones caused by words can cause long term damage. Both will leave a scar but the ones from words are unseen and tend to grow and fester, unlike the ones caused by the physical damage.  My grandmother was a firm believer in another old adage, “If you can’t say anything nice, then don’t say anything at all.”  If I heard that once growing up, I heard it a thousand times.

The Bible has a lot of insight and warnings about the use of our words. Proverbs is especially full of them.

Proverbs 15: 1 “A gentle answer turns away wrath, but hard words stir up anger.”

I wish I had thought of this one BEFORE opening my mouth the other day. Have you ever been in an argument with someone that will just not argue back? That remains calm and just lets you have your say? You blow your top and eventually just run out of steam because the fire of anger needs to be stoked. Before you know it, you’re not even mad anymore. BUT, if that person had come back at you tit for tat, and engaged you, you would both probably said more than you should, and things you for sure would have regretted.  Things would have escalated and there is no good end to that scenario. 

Proverbs 16:24 “Kind words are like honey–sweet to the soul and healthy for the body.”

Who doesn’t like honey? It’s all natural, it’s sweet, and it’s good for you.  Kind words are the same. Who doesn’t like to be complimented? Words of affirmation are one of the five love languages. Whether it’s yours or not, don’t you like to hear that ‘you did good’ or even just a thank you? There’s a reason that kindness is one of the fruits of the spirit (Galatians 5:22-23).

Ephesians 4:29 ^“Do not let any unwholesome talk come out of your mouths, but only what is helpful for building others up according to their needs, that it may benefit those who listen.

This verse is quoted a lot in regard to cursing and foul language but it also applies to using kind words in all circumstances. Wholesome talk can just as well be a compliment, or something edifying to the person that hears it.

James 3:5 “ Likewise, the tongue is a small part of the body, but it makes great boasts. Consider what a great forest is set on fire by a small spark.”

We’ve all heard about the fires devastating Australia the last several months. It’s heartbreaking and mind boggling when you see the photos of how much of that country has burned. About 25 million acres-roughly the size of the entire country of England-have been decimated by the fires. Hundreds of millions of animals have died or are facing death due to the loss of their habitats. More than 2500 homes have been destroyed and at least 29 people have lost their lives. All of this because of a lightning strike three months ago that sparked one fire that spread quickly. It just took one little spark from the initial strike to burst into flame. How powerful that one little spark was!! The words uttered by our tongues are just as powerful. They can tear down and destroy just as easily and quickly as that fire did. BUT, on the opposite side of the coin, the words formed by our tongues can also build up and encourage and do a lot of good. That spark can start a wildfire of positivity just as well as one of negativity if we will only pay attention to the words we use.

When you accept Christ as your savior and try to live according to God’s will, you are to be an example to others. We are all human and therefore sinners so we aren’t going to live up to His standard all of the time…most of the time to be honest. Thankfully, He is a gracious and forgiving God and just like my husband, He forgave me and that slate was wiped clean as soon as I repented the harsh words and asked for forgiveness.  How grateful I am for that grace. It is humbling and hard to admit you were wrong or made a mistake and ask for that forgiveness but it needs to be done. Those words matter, too. Very much so. It’s something you don’t want to have to do often if you can help it.  I can tell you that it has made me much more aware of my words and tone of voice when I speak to people the last few days. I ‘taste my words before I spit them out’ because if I have to eat them, I sure want them to be sweet like honey.

GATHER…a Word for the Year

I stopped doing new year’s resolutions a long time ago.  I NEVER kept them; in fact they were usually broken well before January was over.  And, for the  most part, they were unrealistic for me.  Several years ago, I was introduced to the word of the year concept and found that it really worked much better than a resolution. You choose one or two words that represent an area of your life that you’d like work on and concentrate on doing that. It’s not a laundry list of goals or a checklist of things you want to get done.  It’s  a character building/changing exercise. And while it’s not something I succeed at on a daily basis, it is something that does improve as the year goes on because I’m aware of it and therefore make a conscious effort to change it.

This year my word is GATHER. I’m also using BLOOM. There’s several reasons for choosing these words and once I started thinking about them, I saw little signs that reinforced my decision to use them.  One of the things I came across was this pretty little plaque in the clearance section at a local store. It came home with me and is on the table directly across the room from my kitchen sink where I will see it many times daily.

I really struggle with being sociable and doing things outside of my home. I am, by nature, a homebody in the sense that I am perfectly happy to stay at home and do ‘my’ things: craft, read, write, watch old movies, etc.  For the most part, I am happy with my own company.  I didn’t always use to be this way but I have found over the years that I tend toward being more of a recluse. To be honest, though, I am a people person. I love hearing people’s stories and discussing common interests. My husband is really a people person and is always ready and willing to go and do at the drop of a hat. I have to have days notice and dread it the whole time and psych myself up. Funny thing is, I always have a good time once I get there. It’s the getting there that’s hard.  He made a remark several months ago that got me to thinking and I realized that I have become quite anti-social lately. I’m not exactly sure why this has happened but I know that it’s not really a good thing so I’m determined to change that this year.  I am going to gather together with friends more and bloom where God has planted me.

“And let us consider how we may spur one another on toward love and good deeds, not giving up meeting together, as some are in the habit of doing, but encouraging one another -and all the more as you see the Day approaching.” Hebrews 10:24-25

 

Everyday is Valentine’s Day

When my kids were little, they had to go on a scavenger hunt to find their Valentine from us. When they went off to college, for at least one year, I sent them “14 Days of Love” – a small something for every day from February 1st to the 14th. I did this for KB as well. It was something I wanted to do and I enjoyed doing it. I love that Valentine’s Day is a day set aside to do something a little special to express your love for those special people in your life-if you get into that sort of thing. However, I greatly dislike the commercialism of the whole day. The way it makes people (mostly men) feel like they HAVE to do something big and extravagant to show or reassure their significant other that they love them really irks me. And if they don’t, feelings are hurt and angry words are sometimes spoken. Valentine’s Day is just one day a year and gestures to show our love for each other surely aren’t confined to one day. How terrible it would be if we could only show our love for one day only. And in only one way like candy, flowers, or a nice meal.

While candy and flowers are always appreciated, and never turned away, I don’t need them. It’s the little things, day in and day out, year after year that I treasure.

It is the foot rub at the end of a long day or making my tea in the morning just how I like it. It is not complaining or saying, ‘Again?!’ when I say ‘I don’t want to cook tonight’ and just asking where I’d like to go. It’s ordering the chocolate dessert to share instead of the fruit one you’d rather have because you know I love chocolate.  It’s taking me on adventures and showing me new experiences. It’s the hugs in the morning and the ‘I love you’s’ for no reason. It’s not caring that I haven’t brushed my hair all day or getting mad when I haven’t vacuumed the floor this week. It’s wiping the tears away when I’m sad, holding my hair when I’m sick, and rejoicing with me when something good happens. It’s being by my side no matter what and putting up with me even when I’m not lovable.

Love is a powerful emotion that lives and grows and ebbs and flows and can last a lifetime. It’s a feeling that can’t be explained easily with words although man has been trying to for years. It’s something, we as humans, seek from the time we are born. Love is a very special thing and we shouldn’t take it for granted when we find it. And we definitely shouldn’t make it conditional on whether someone gives us some token on an arbitrarily chosen day.  So, even though I don’t necessarily think a big deal needs to be made and gushy things said because it’s Valentine’s Day, I do want to say that I am blessed and I know it. I love you, KB. Forever and always. Thank you for making every day Valentine’s Day for me.

This is a picture from a couple of Christmases ago but it’s one of my favorites.

 

The Magic Oven

I visited my 90 year old grandmother earlier this week since I wasn’t able to be at her house on Mother’s Day when everyone else was there. As much as I enjoy seeing everyone on holidays like that, I really prefer going when no one else is there and I have her all to myself. It’s much more relaxed and she and I can just sit and visit. She doesn’t hear well anymore and when there are a lot of people there, all that noise makes it even harder for her to hear.

I called on Sunday to wish her a Happy Mother’s Day and make sure that the day I wanted to come would be a good day to visit. You never know with her…she stays busy and isn’t always home when we all think she should be. Plus, she has doctor’s appointments and such. Anyway, it was a good day for her and we made our plans. I told her I’d be there in the afternoon and would take her out for dinner before I left. She said that would be good and she was looking forward to it.

I arrived a little later than planned but not by much and we had a really nice visit; just sitting and chatting. After I’d been there a while, I went and got the bird feeder I’d brought for her deck and set about getting it filled and put up. I noticed her tomato plants needed watering so she and I went into the kitchen to get the watering jug so I could give them a good drink. Talk turned to what we were going to have for dinner.

I should back up here and say that, for the first time in a long time, my grandmother’ s kitchen was spotless when I arrived. Not that she doesn’t keep a clean kitchen, but usually when any of us come to visit, she has been in there cooking all day and there’s pots and pans in the sink to be washed and food on the stove, that sort of thing. Because she is going to feed us and you can’t feed people and keep your kitchen cleaned up all the time. That’s just the way it is. So, I was a little surprised, but pleasantly so because I thought, “Oh, good, she’s actually going to let me take her out for dinner.” I should have known better.

Back to the what we’re going to do for dinner conversation…She told me if I didn’t mind, she would like to just stay home and have something there. The hearing issue is even worse in restaurants-lots of background noise there- so I completely understand her reluctance to go out. Fine. I could go get something and bring it back. “Welllll,” she said, “I have some leftovers that need to be eaten if you wouldn’t mind having that.”  I was totally fine with that as anything my grandmother cooks is delicious and left overs have never bothered me.   So, I went outside to water the tomato plants.

This is when the magic happened. Five minutes later I walk back into the kitchen and there was a feast laid out on the island. Seriously. A feast. Fried chicken, mashed potatoes, fried squash, green beans, carrots, and cornbread muffins.  She pulled a fast one on me and had it all hidden in the oven just waiting for me to agree to stay there and eat. Her oven is magic, I tell you. Magic. 

Did I mention that my grandmother is 90 years old? She still loves to cook. LOVES it! It is her thing. She’s an excellent cook and is one of those people that can make a meal for ten out of seemingly nothing. Puttering in the kitchen is therapy and soothes her like knitting soothes me. We’ve tried for years to get her to let us bring food for various occasions and family gatherings but she won’t have any of it. Well, we can but she’s still going to cook and she’s so much better at it than any of us I don’t know why we bother. Cooking food and feeding people is her love language and she doesn’t know how not to do it.

Not only did she have a feast for us for dinner, she had made my favorite dessert; a chocolate meringue pie. She makes THE best chocolate pie and spoils me terribly by making one for me whenever I come to visit.  I usually eat too much of it but this time I used restraint and only had a small piece.  I know that my grandmother isn’t always going to be around to spoil me with her good food and even better hugs so I am soaking these times up and saving them in my heart to remember when I need a hug. As long as she wants to, and is able, I’m going to let her cook for me and not nag her about doing too much.  After all, she has that magic oven that produces some of the best food I’ve ever eaten and she might as well let it do its thing.