Christmas is almost here. I have blogged about great times with family, my favorite things, and delighted in making our favorite treats. I love Christmas.

I also have become more fully aware of the other side of the holidays as I grow older. Despair, loneliness, and memories of those that are no longer here.

Honestly, Christmas is a time that many people would rather sleep through and avoid, praying for January to roll on in.

I understand this fully. My prayers are with you.

What would we have without our memories? Good memories also include the ones of despair and loneliness. It’s how life works, making a way for us to enjoy the great ones, it often bring lessons we’ve learned from the previous.

I write mushy, emotional blogs I know. I have written about Christmas more than any other. While it may appear that all is glorious for me during this season, sometimes nothing is further from the truth. I, as many of  you, struggle with keeping my holiday spirit. I have always asked God to help me use my struggles to be more sympathetic toward others that walk down some of my same paths. He continues to do this faithfully. Today, I am trusting that He will use this blog.

I grew up in a loving environment. I was very blessed with the family that I had been given. I had great family members, and awesome friends. I had more than one “best friend” for this I am truly thankful.

One of my “bestest” friends throughout my life was a close relative. My grandmother, Birdie. I am her namesake. (okay this is major for those that didn’t know my first name!! LOL) I called her “mamaw” or “granny”

She was my friend. Other than my own mother, she was the epitome of “unconditional love” that I experienced. I would stay at her home continually. On the way home from school, it was my first stop before reaching home. Everyday. I spent most weekends with her. She made me hot tea, played checkers until I couldn’t hold my eyes open. She kept an open jar of salted peanuts close by as we watched Bonanza together most evenings, snuggled around her coal stove.

She never allowed anyone to make fun of my name. She knew all too well what this was like. She asked my mother not to name me after her for this reason, but it was given to me out of love. Today, it has become a pet name for me at times…and I don’t mind it anymore.

Time passes, and we think that things will always remain the same. We learn differently.

I fast forward to the year I  am 17 years old, enjoying time at the beach with my family. My grandmother didn’t like the water or sand, but she enjoyed being with us. She doesn’t feel well. We decide to shorten our beach time and come home. Life changes in an instant. It doesn’t wait for convenience, a more appropriate time. I remind myself daily of this. It only takes one diagnosis, one phone call, or one tragic moment to change your course.

We spend the next months battling. Caring. Rearranging life to make hers better. My senior year of high school is only half day. I drive home everyday so my mother can sleep. She stays by her mother’s bedside, awake and continuing to care and comfort. She is exhausted physically and it takes its toll on all of us. Extended family, immediate family, friends of our family, they all do what they can.

It’s December. Presents have all been wrapped and under the tree. We all tried to function normally. There is no normal this year. My grandmother would continue to tell us Merry Christmas every day for weeks.

She loved Christmas as much as I do. She made pacts with me as a child concerning presents. She unwrapped things and carefully re-wrapped. She could not contain herself. We would eventually learn to refrain from putting them under the tree, keeping her out of them. We sure had some giggles over presents!

The month of December was a mixed bag of emotions for us that year. Everyday was lived like it would be her last. She was tired. She told us she just wanted to go home. I was selfish, I told her she couldn’t go yet.. it was almost Christmas and she had no clue this year what her presents were! She would smile and only whisper “I love you, niecy” but she never told me she would stay.

I was not in her room that evening. I had chosen to sit with family in our living room. The only indication was the sound of my own mother’s sobs.

On Christmas Eve, she made her journey. She would experience Christmas in a way that we couldn’t fathom. She was home.

A joyous occasion for her, but one that left many scars on my family. We would ignore the sight of our tree, the presents left there until way past January. Life had happened – the ugly part. Christmas was never the same for my mother. I understand this part of her now.

I understand this for my friends…my other family members that experience the lonely part of the season. I have shared my heart for this very reason today. I can say that it doesn’t go away with time, but it does get a little more bearable. Moments and memories become your comfort, your lifeline. God pours into your very soul, peace – the kind that passes all understanding. (Philippians 4:7)

My prayer is that you hold on to that peace. Surround yourself in it. Know that I share your pain..but more importantly, I share your promise of peace during this holiday season.

In closing, I am sharing my favorite lyrics from the song “Christmas in Heaven” may you tresasure this glimpse of God’s grace and peace….

Is the snow falling down on the  streets of gold

Are the  mansions all covered in white

Are you singing with angels silent night

I wonder….. what Christmas in Heaven is  like.

I have so many Christmas favorites. I do not know where to begin. I have already had to remove some songs from my iPod, just to have enough memory for my Christmas music! Yes, I have tons of music. It isn’t enough that most local radio stations are playing the music twenty-four hours a day now. I have favorite Christmas movies, books and even commercials. I did mention earlier that my daughter and I love Christmas, right?

Every year I take the requests for their favorite Christmas dessert, candy, etc. For my husband, it happened to be “tater candy” – pure sugar is all I can sum that up to..the kind that you need a glass of milk just to get it down!  My daughter couldn’t think of anything she really had to have except for a Pumpkin Roll- not my specialty, but yes, I made it just for her.

Normally, I save the last week before Christmas to finish last minute shopping and baking. I am a few days into it and I already find myself thinking about which dessert or candy that I really want? I just can’t decide. We have vowed to do a little something every day, just to celebrate the season.

Maybe I will try Peanut Butter Delight? Hmm.. I think the weather interferes with that one. I thought about just fudge? I thought maybe I would try to make Rice Krispy Treats? Nah…..about the time I was pondering my favorite confection? My phone rings. “Do you want some Hot Apple Cider? I immediately say yes!

I make this cider, but it seldom ever turns out the same for me. Some things are just better when someone else makes it! Especially, when you consider it a holiday tradition? My sister in law, Teresa- makes the best! There is just something about anticipating the joy of one of your favorite things.

I hope that you find it possible to enjoy some of your favorites this Christmas. It really seems to keep the joy in the midst of everything. Life is busy, this time of year is extremely busy! No humbugs here. Our intention is  to enjoy every minute, a few favorites, and even a  story or two from Christmas past! Time will quickly pass, and we will be back to our usual soon enough. Make the most of your moments!

So, sit down occasionally, share one of your favorites with someone.. Make some memories and  don’t forget to look for your favorite things! Merry Christmas!… only one more week! And, thanks again Teresa- for providing one of my “favorite things” this season.

I am often reminded that family ties can be broken. Life happens, people come and go in your life for reasons and seasons. Some by choice, and some by circumstances. There are some ties that cannot be broken, they are part of the thread of who you are, the ones that never unravel.

Many parts of my family circle have been severed. Many have left this earthly home to be a part of another. I have had those that made a choice to severe the threads, toss them out for a new garment, not worthy of doing the mending. The ties that bind, are just that… whether you are a tattered thread, or a three-chord strand, that is not easily broken, they each remain woven as a part. I am thankful that I have more ties that bind than those that do not. I am blessed beyond measure by these, they are my treasures in my circle of life.

Cousins are so much a part of most people’s lives. I could write an actual book here, a comedy, a drama, or even a suspense novel. I had great ones! but there is always that “one” that ties you to everything you were, and everything you are presently.

We were Daddy’s girls from the beginning. Our Dad’s were brothers, who happened to have married sisters. It has truly been a circle with no beginning and no end. Constant. We were each other’s favorite lifelong playmate, we never spent enough time together. Weeks together or weekends would always find us crying and begging our parents for one more day of visiting. Our mother’s hated for the visits to come to an end.. partly because they knew they would be dealing with the two of us wailing and holding on to one another for dear life.  We are double first cousins (funny I know)..but we deemed one another sisters from toddlerhood. We still do.

We have history,  lifelong stories that we often share with our own daughters. Who knew that frog gigging and eating an entire block of Velveeta cheese would bring a burst of laughter to this day. We visited each others schools at the end of the year for “visitor” day..Have had one another’s back in a girl fight more than I can count. We devised every scheme possible to fully enjoy our summers together, to make time last. Really, who else would agree to ride on the senior citizen bus route with our Uncle Jr.-  just so we could go to town and get out of that holler? only to find that the idea of getting an iced cold pop, meant stopping by the roadside and buying a hot watermelon-thanks Uncle Jr.

We grew up together, although we lived hours apart. We have cried together, laughed together, sang together….even planned to live in an apartment together when we could drive, eating only our favorite foods of soup beans, and pizza!  We had plans to go to flight attendant school together! We shared our dreams together always. I am thankful that our mother’s made such painstakingly efforts to see that we spent time together. They never worried about us being together so much that we began to get tired of one another and argue. It never happened. After 40 some years, we have yet to share a cross word.

Being named after my own mother before I was born, the tie was formed and tightly bonded. There is no way that my mother could have foreseen what a blessing her namesake would become to her in the years that would follow. She would have walked through fire for my mother.. in ways, she did just that many times.  I will never be capable of repaying her for that kindness.

We have both experienced the losses of our parents..our Dad’s first.. followed by our Mothers passing within a month of each another. We have often remarked that they always wanted to be together, just like us. They spend every holiday together now, eternally.  Our family circles have been broken here, but our ties continue to bind us.

I am blessed to still have this tie. I depend on it. Although we see seldom see one another face to face, our ties do not waver. Years and miles have not been able to separate our bond with one another. She is real with me. I never question her intentions toward me, if they are superficial or fake. If you have a sister..you already know this bond… ours just happens to have had different parents…

The ties that bind…. are important. They are what holds you together when the world attempts to make you unravel. Sometimes they are your last thread of hope. Take some time – soon – to strengthen your ties that bind… try not to discard the ones that are a little “frayed” on the edges… unattended, it will only continue to unravel…If you sew, you already realize that sometimes severely frayed edges need to be cut to prevent further damage…I pray that you will know the difference.

“Great Stocking Stuffer” written across the sale inserts in my newspaper. There are gadgets galore, trinkets and every kind of novelty candies you can think of in today’s flyer. I notice that every year the stocking stuffer items become larger and larger until the stockings need to be replaced with Santa “Sacks”

It has been hard for me to get used to the whole stocking stuffer chaos. Things that are placed in stockings now, would have been one of my major Christmas gifts growing up. Times sure have changed.

My brother and I would always get to open our gifts on Christmas Eve except for one that we would choose to save for Christmas morning. Milk and cookies were the last thing we would do before being made to go to bed…sometimes we would write Santa a note.

Early rising was the usual ritual, we had to see the evidence of cookie crumbs left on the plate, sometimes a reply from our Santa note (thanks Dad) –  we all knew your handwriting. We would take our stockings down and dig through them. I don’t really know why? because our stockings always contained the same thing year after year, fruit and nuts! We didn’t expect anything other than fruit and nuts, but we still looked forward to it. We enjoyed cracking them open, to reveal a full-sized nut.. it proved you were crafted in this area after a few years of experience.

I am not a huge fan of eating oranges, but I do love to smell them. I think it takes me back to those Christmas mornings. I would peel the oranges for Dad, he would eat them..and let me toss them into the grate in the fireplace. Other than the fact that it was just sort of our fascination with watching stuff burn in the fireplace, it smelled wonderful! Nutshells were not all that exciting to watch smolder, but the orange peels took on a whole different look. Okay, so I still have some WV pyromania in me…even at Christmas.

I can’t help but feel a little melancholy when the stockings are emptied at my home on Christmas morning. Who knows what treasures and trinkets will be in there for my daughter….usually a card for my husband and the coal that I leave in there year after year..oops.. I think this year I may fill my own stocking with fruit and nuts, as a reminder that although it is nothing new, it is still an  anticipated treasure.

Make your Christmas moments last…find what speaks to the child in you and revive it again this year, even if it is as simple as fruit and nuts!

It has been a surreal week. I continue to be amazed how God uses His creation to speak to my heart. He often speaks through beautiful skies, amazing landscapes and sometimes just the simple laughter of a child. This week, it just so happened to be a horse..a white horse.

It has been a little past six months that I have been taking my daughter to riding lessons. It has went by quickly, unless you count the months that she has been trying to hide from her Pa that she has been taking lessons. He has been her teacher since day one, a bond that they continue to have. He has been physically unable to make the trip here for a while, disappointment often plagues them both. Unknowingly, he asks her from week to week, “Have you been riding much” referring to their horses here. She tells him not much, which is truth, only because we seldom have the opportunity to ride in the evenings. She doesn’t tell him about riding lessons. Her hope is to surprise him when he comes to visit. She wants him to be here, to show him her progress. He tells her she should be riding more, she agrees….but for now, it is painstakingly her “secret.”

We continue riding lessons once a week. She has ridden a few different horses, but last week, her teacher brings out a different horse. I am overwhelmed at the sight of her new riding partner. I struggle to maintain my composure. My thoughts immediately turn to the previous conversations between her and Pa. Stories from the Bible about the rider of the white horse.. Scripture from Revelation 19 floods my spirit. “I saw Heaven standing open and there before me was a white horse, whose rider is called Faithful and True.” I was also reminded of something that she told me a couple of years ago about her and Pa getting to ride “White Horses” in heaven. It was symbolic to me to say the least.  Do I think they will ride in Heaven one day? maybe?  but I do know what I felt in my heart when I saw this animal.  Confirmation. God is Faithful and True. The White Horse represents something more pure than I can imagine. It represents a promise.  I look forward to the day when sicknesses, and the distant miles will no longer separate us from those we love.

Although the horse she rides currently is a much older one, it still speaks volume to me. The White Horse is symbolic.  It is still strong, almost timeless. Watching her ride this week, I am flooded with emotions. How I wish Pa were here to see how far she has come these last few months. I will continue to capture as much as possible in photographs, but nothing will compare to the first time he witnesses her improved riding in person. May God grant us that opportunity.

I can’t help but think that she senses it too. Anticipation…improving as much as she can, enjoying every minute riding the white horse. I am so thankful that God allowed me such a heart-warming glimpse this week through his creation.

Ride on sweet girl, continuing to show me more than I thought possible through your eyes, and the beauty of riding the white horse.

It’s hard to believe that it has been 25 years since I walked down that aisle with my Daddy. I will never forget his words “Are you ready Baby?” I mumble a yes, and take the first steps. It was one of the most memorable steps we would take together. I was not supposed to notice him reaching under the rim of his glasses to wipe a tear. I was between starting a new life and being “given away” it was a bittersweet moment for this 20-year-old.

My future was waiting at the end of that aisle. The person with whom I would spend the rest of my life. I can still remember the way he never took his eyes off of me during my journey down that aisle. I still find myself blushing about it today…followed by a small giggle. The fact that he still says I’m “pretty” doesn’t matter if it is true..only that he still tells me…~grin~

It’s hard to imagine how quiet I was at the age of 20. As a matter of fact, Derek would often tell me he thought I was “spoiled” and “conceded” when he first met me. Little did he know that it just happened to be my shy and quiet personality. I’m sure he wishes some days he could see that person again lol!

I had thought a lot about this being our “Silver” year. I looked at the word meaning: a white, ductile metallic element, used for making mirrors, coins, ornaments, table utensils, photographic chemicals, etc. Not much of a definition in the way of Anniversary? I also took notice that “Silver” denotes – time, and I know this term. Twenty five years of time..have passed and I have no idea where they have went!  Silver is also used to make mirrors.. which I find very relevant to us this year. It has been a time of reflecting…

Looking back over the past 25 years..is exactly like gazing into a mirror. Perception of ones self and those around us through a looking-glass. What do I see? Everything. Moments, life changing events, happiness, sadness, strength and weakness. I see things I would change, and things I would never even dream of changing.

Our conversation over supper last night caused Hannah to erupt into a fit of giggles. It is hard for her to imagine the world of her parents dating era. She asked if I thought she would ever get married? I assured her that it was more likely than not – but not until she was at least 35! I began telling her how I was friends with her Daddy before dating him. We kind of hung out together. I told her how things started to change when I found myself pretending I was cold.. just so he would offer me his jacket. I loved the smell of his cologne! It went from lending me his jacket, to “Do you want to ride around town?” Keeping in mind that Derek was pretty quiet also? this was major. I never said no, about cruising with him in town. Before long, he asked me out on an “official” date. We often laugh at how long we used to stay on the telephone and nothing but breathing.. and “are you still there?” but we did.

After 25 years, I would love to say that we still listen to one another breathe and enjoy it.. but he doesn’t really find anything appealing about my snoring! sorry babe! I guess no more than I relish in him making me car sick when I am “riding around town” in our former home town! It’s not the same as riding around in the Trans-Am holding hands like we were going to lose site of one another!

I see the past 25 years in moments.. not time. Moments that pulled us together, being there for me when my Daddy died unexpectedly in a car accident, the lonely years of waiting for Hannah to come along or holding me during the loss of my mother. The moments we have shared good times, the ups and downs of being parents. The chuckles we had on this anniversary because I mistakenly bought him a Birthday card…apparently the eyes are showing 25 years of decline!

Yes, we are Silver now.. and we will tarnish that quite a bit at times I am sure. Honestly, he would probably admit that sometimes we don’t like one another very much. He often jokes that the wedding ring is the only thing you can put on your finger, and feel it tightening around your neck! bwahahhaha. Oh how I wish that He had the perfect wife..I am not her… lol. Do we love each other? Positively! It has been a journey, we are still learning, tolerating and trying to make the most of our experiences. Relationships are work. It can be exhausting and rewarding all at the same time. I do not cherish the people who say marriage is 50/50. Apparently they are still single. We often take much more than we give..sometimes we give more than we take. It’s a balance that we are still muddling through. Do I have marital advice..seldom. No two marriages are the same anymore than two people are the same. Not possible. Make your moments last.. because time will not. It will keep on going long after we are gone. Most importantly, be forgiving with one another. It isn’t hard to love someone..that’s the easy part.

So, here is to 25 more, the next milestone of Golden! May God continue to be the center, each other in the middle…and walking the last mile.. together.

Today I am sharing a letter that I had written to my dear Aunt before she went to her home in Heaven. Take time to share your heart with those you love. No regrets.

December 22, 2010

To my Dear Aunt Moe

I guess I have finally gotten serious about sending you a letter.  I have thought about what I would write to you about on a daily basis.  I have thoughts that run through my mind, songs that I hear, and visual memories too many to number.  I think a letter of this nature should be shared with family members on a yearly basis.  We can never tell our loved ones too many times how much we care about them.  Maybe this will be the beginning of a new traditions of Christmas letters for me, who knows.

My earliest memories of you must begin during your dating era with my Uncle James.  That was our beginning.  I really have no idea how old I was, I only remember being excited about going with you and the family to the “river” to swim after you all were married.  I couldn’t tell you who was there, but I can tell you that I remember the laughter.  Everyone was having a great time and the river looked as large as an ocean to me.  This would be one of my first memories of the laughter that has always been a part of wherever you were.  Not just a chuckle, or a quick laugh.. but the good ol “belly laugh” that comes with genuine good family times. I can still hear the music coming from your Daddy’s front porch.  I thought it was so wonderful to have your own “band” at home! I am sure your Daddy has to be in charge of something musical in Heaven.

Music. This is when I think of you most.  I was in an evening church service when a preacher started singing “Swing Wide the Gates” and I was immediately taken back to the porch swing at Mamaw’s with the huge songbook in our lap, careful not to swing too high to bump the window sill. I think the more verses we sang on “I’ll Fly Away” the higher the swing would automatically go! Singing, and listening. Hoping that one day I could sound as pretty as your voice always did. I will always remember the sadness I felt when you would sing “Six Hours on the Cross” .. or the chill on my arms when “The Third Man” was finished.  Music. I think that is where we began. I would later realize that it really didn’t matter if I was great at singing.. God would honor my offering because of how it was offered. I have always been moved by music, and that started with you, Aunt Moe. It has been a most wonderful gift I received in my childhood. I just wanted to thank you, earnestly. You planted that seed, and I am so grateful that you shared that love with me.

I can’t really remember any memories of us, other than good. The excitement of getting to go to the hospital with Uncle James when Little Jimmy was born, and afraid Marybeth wouldn’t love me as much if I didn’t go the hospital to pick her up also when she was born! Remembering watching Anthony play with his trucks in the dirt.. I took for granted all the times I walked down the alley, and there you or Uncle James were…Him under the hood of some car, or you working in the yard, or also under the hood working with Uncle James. I miss the times when we all played in the snow, swam in the pool, or went fishing together. I always thought that was cool. I miss being able to come down that alley and visit for a spell.. and mostly I miss it because I didn’t take time to visit when I had the opportunity to do so. Our time is the best thing we can give one another, and it is also the one thing we seem to be so stingy with.

I refuse to make this letter a “goodbye” but it is only the continuation of our story together. The chapters may end, take a different turn.. but as Christians, we have a “series” and I can’t wait to see what our future memories will be, only that I know they will be eternal.  You have been my encourager and inspiration many more times than you knew. You have been that for so many people, more than you will ever know.. You have been the “Iron that sharpens Iron” in so many brothers and sisters in Christ. I know that I have been pretty “dull” at times, and I could always count on you to give me a word from God.  There have been many times that I knew all I had to do was call with my prayer request, because I knew you wouldn’t just say you’d pray.. I knew you meant business with the Master. I do not have to tell you what a blessing you continue to be to those around you. I hope that you know. You have been a blessing to me from the time I was a little girl, growing up as a teenager, and now as a grown woman.

I still remember how Daddy’s eyes would light up when he found out you had made yeast rolls or apple crisp or pies. We would always hope that some was left for us to enjoy. Momma tried your recipe, but it was never the same as Aunt Moe’s. I still feel the warmth every time I wear the special apron you sent me with the prayer cloth sewn into the fabric. My family knows something good will be in the oven, when I have my “Aunt Moe” apron on! the memories you have given me will outlast my lifetime, and that of your children and grandchildren, my dear Uncle James, and all the people in your enormous circle of love. The love you gave to my Momma was so dear to us. She loved you so much. It may have seemed to go unnoticed, but it remains with me and Buddy forever. You gave her so much in  your relationship. I will never be able to thank you enough for that.

I will close this letter with tears of joy, wonderful memories, and a thankful heart that God has allowed me to enjoy such a wonderful woman in my life. I look forward to the next chapter in our lives, earthly or eternal. I know that they will be great regardless of the meeting place.

I love you so dearly, and know that you have always been a “song” in my heart.. Yes, a song, the tool that God has used so many times to reach my soul. His love is everlasting.

Praying that you will have a wonderful Christmas, continuing to make great memories. You are loved beyond measure…

Love,

Neicy

I found myself trying to decided on whether or not to put up my Christmas decorations early this year. I am usually completing this task the weekend after Thanksgiving. I am not at all happy that Black Friday shopping will begin on the day set aside for Thanksgiving, the friday after was soon enough. I did feel a little guilty for not leaving my fall pumpkins and cornucopia out for this coming Thursday, but realized being thankful is not a decoration..it is an act in itself.

Another defining reason for decorating early, is that I have family coming! My brother hasn’t been able to be here during the holidays for quite a while, and I wanted to have everything decorated for them. I am starting to get anxious and filled with anticipation.

Family gatherings bring many things. We are busier than usual, we fuss over menus, who is eating where and what time. We try to fit it all in, but end up being frustrated and lacking the holiday spirit of togetherness that we should have.  We all want the Norman Rockwell gatherings. Why? I don’t know, because we should know by now that it just doesn’t happen outside of those paintings. We surely miss the point.

The great thing about having my brother and his family here? It really doesn’t matter what we eat, what time, or what we do. We live so far away from one another, we are just happy  to be in the same room together. I feel blessed and realize that this is the heart of the holidays for me. So I am anticipating…I can’t wait to see them.

I also am realizing how deep the anticipation ran for my own Momma. It didn’t matter if we arrived at 2 a.m.? She would be up waiting. Anticipating. She knew what was important. I was a little misty eyed this morning thinking of how much she must have missed us.  I overheard a lady in the grocery store complaining that she always had to eat dinner at her parents. She wished she could just stay home and then go shopping at 8pm? I wanted to pull her to the side and just give her some “friendly” advice. I thought it was the saddest thing I had heard all week. One day she may figure it out, but for that moment, I whispered a tearful prayer for her in the canned food aisle.

It is going to be crowded and noisy here, my house is small. As a matter of fact, it’s going to be a little chaotic at times, but it doesn’t lessen my anticipation. It only makes me love my family more for giving up their comfortable beds to share Thanksgiving with us.

The Christmas tree will be twinkling this year.. only a week early, a pot of hot chocolate will be on the stove. We are anticipating some much-needed family time. The train around my tree will be wide open, along with Hannah and her cousins, and the lull of Christmas music playing. Yeah, it’s going to get a little noisy, but I am bursting with anticipation.

My prayer for my friends and family this year? That you are Anticipating…embracing the people who you love, and planting some seeds of kindness towards the ones you struggle with. I pray that you don’t take anyone for granted, make an effort to get along….bend. Be gracious to those that cook for you faithfully every year, appreciate the love that goes into your Thanksgiving feast. You may ask God to show you someone who would be blessed by an invitation,  or providing a Thanksgiving meal. I guarantee you won’t regret your efforts.

Happy Thanksgiving! May it be blessed beyond measure and full of heart-felt thankfulness and anticipation.

Today I find them, tucked away in the back of my sock drawer, my last pair of “house shoes.”  They are stuffed and sealed in a sandwich bag, my name is written on a piece of masking tape and I immediately smile looking at the handwriting.

I have owned many different pairs of these hand-crocheted slippers. Momma used to let us choose the color, then she would measure our sock feet. Normally, the color would be dark since we would wear them all winter. We heated with coal, so it was a wise choice to keep the colors dark to prevent the ability to show dirt.

I was often told that I was one of the few children that could wear out a pair of these shoes, they were tough and lasted a very long time. The fact that my brother and I would use them for pretend ice skates on linoleum floors, may have contributed to their wear and tear. They were also pretty great for gathering static electricity to be used to “zap” some poor unsuspecting soul. I still cringe thinking of how much it hurt to be on the receiving end–thanks again little brother!

You may wonder why the shoes are in a sandwich bag? We tend to store everything in a sandwich bag or “baggies” as we still call them. This particular pair of shoes was saved so Momma would always have a  pattern, something to go by in case she had forgotten the stitching. I have watched her count the “rows” and mentally take note as to whether it were a shell pattern….or if it were considered a double crochet. So, this pair was held back for that purpose for many many years. Anyone that knew her would never question why they happened to be red in color. It was her favorite.

During one of our many long-distance phone conversations, we discussed how cold the weather had gotten. She made a comment about me always having the coldest feet in the winter and said that she hoped I was wearing fuzzy socks! I mentioned that what I really needed was some warm “house shoes.”

Approximately one week later, I received a package from West Virginia…unmistakably, from my Momma in her attempt to keep me warm from 300 miles away.

They came with only one stipulation. “Don’t ever lose these, they are the last pair around here that I was saving to use for a pattern.” I almost felt bad for taking them, but she insisted that she knew I would take care of them and since I no longer had the urge to skate on linoleum floors.. they would probably be around for quite some time in case she ever needed to refer back to them.

There in the back of my sock drawer, the shoes have remained. They are the “last” of them. I often recite a quote that one day, there will be “no more” that people, places, and moments do not last forever. The shoes are the “last” of them, the last of my Momma’s crocheting, the last of homemade anything by her hands.

After looking at the house shoes, I couldn’t bear to return them to the forgotten drawer. I even had a silly thought, pondering if they would work the same way Dorothy’s Ruby Red Slippers did in The Wizard of Oz? There’s no place like home… There’s no place like home!  If only it were that easy.  I did, however, come to the conclusion that they were far too special to keep hidden inside of that drawer.

From now on, I think they will be considered my “Christmas Shoes” …. homemade with love….the kind that will last for an eternity. I will start a new tradition of wearing them during the holidays. Maybe I’ll even try making a pair?  Thanks again, Momma…..they are just as warm and cozy as I remember! ….and who knows? maybe I can still get a “spark” or two going (ouch!) just for old times sake!

Keep your treasures close to you…but don’t tuck them away for too long…you may forget about them.. and besides, they were meant to be enjoyed!

Thanksgiving is almost here, the holiday season is upon us! Honestly, it’s my favorite time of the year. Even with all of the craziness that goes along with being busy, I consider it to be the time of year that people seem to be a little more kind, tolerant, and most of all, thankful.

I will tend to blog more in the next several weeks. How can I not? Memories come in like a flood for me during the holidays. Traditions, family stories, get togethers…so many things that make my heart a little more open. It always trails back to one area the most…thankfulness!

Growing up as a coal miner’s daughter, I didn’t consider us “poor” by no means, although we were probably closer to it at times that I realized. My Daddy always worked in the mines, he always provided for us. Thankfulness. His work was mostly steady, but there were times that we endured “coal strikes” that seemed to last forever.  During that time, if you were in the union.. and a strike was going on, you didn’t work and therefore, you didn’t get paid. I can’t remember the longest one? but I just knew when I heard the word “coal strike” you knew it was fixing to get a little skinny.

I can honestly and thankfully say, that I do not know what it is like to go hungry. I hope I never know. But I can tell you that I can very well remember two large bins in our kitchen that held us through some of those lean times. Flour and potatoes housed in those bins made more of an  assortment of meals than I could have imagined. If it could be made with those two ingredients? my mother would cook it. Actually, I am surprised that I can eat potatoes and gravy to this day! Fried, mashed, boiled, baked and always with flour that made gravy! Thankfully, it was always enough. Contentment was being taught early on, life lessons that you can’t learn anywhere else.

Thanksgiving was less than a week away, the strike was in full swing. We were blessed to know a local businessman that owned a small grocery store that allowed us to “charge” things from time to time. Wow, to think of how many families he helped during his lifetime, is still amazing to me.

My mother and grandmother always cooked together. Holiday dinner was one of the favorite things they shared and yes, they were some awesome cooks! I remember the mood was not quite as exciting as usual this year, but after all, everyone was having a rough time with so many out of work. I overheard the two talking and the only thing I can remember is their words? What are we going to do? We don’t even have a turkey! I will never forget my mothers words to my grandmother. “Well, we are going to have Thanksgiving Dinner, that’s for sure.. we just have to get a little more creative!” Was I worried? Oh yeah! No turkey, meant no thanksgiving, but I also knew that they were determined.

That entire day I noticed them unloading the cabinets. Will this work? No? What about this? Yes, we can do something with that…..my mood lightened because whatever they were conjuring up? they were doing it with thankfulness and determination.  Before the day was out, Dad came through the door with a pie that a neighbor had given him.. Aha! dessert. It was starting to remind me of the Bible story – feeding the five thousand! Surely, God will make a way for a small number of us also! Faith grew.. Thankfulness grew.

I can’t tell you what trimmings we had that year, other than they found a box of Stovetop Stuffing mix. I remember we had a pie for dessert. What I do remember the most? Not that we didn’t have a turkey, but the fact that my mother and grandmother decided that if you could stuff a turkey? why couldn’t you stuff a frying hen? That’s right, we had a chicken in the freezer! and after all, it was the same principle? What I remember most about that chicken,  is hearing them giggle in the kitchen while stuffing that thing. Thankfulness, and contentment! They were determined not to let the absence of Tom Turkey put a damper on our holiday.  It was the first and last “stuffed” chicken I have ever eaten, but it was no doubt the most memorable! Never have I experienced a meal that was more thoughtful, or baked and roasted with more love! It’s no wonder when my momma and I first saw a cooking show with “stuffed” Cornish hens as a delicacy..oh yeah, we giggled some more.. She was ahead of her time on that one!

Years went by, and Thanksgiving after that always included at least a 25lb turkey and all the trimmings, Daddy was an awesome cook with his delicious ham cooking alongside momma but it seemed that our dinner conversation would always go back to “remember when” about that stuffed chicken! We reminded ourselves to be thankful in all things… even all things poultry!

Don’t miss the opportunity to be thankful…and when my turkey goes in the oven this year? I will feel a little tug on my heartstrings to put as much love into cooking for my family as they did. Be thankful.. in ALL things!