There are so many songs that I like but the one that most represents me has a line that says “Lord you’ve been mighty good to me.” That is so true of my life, of course I’ve seen bad times and had heartache and sorrow just like anyone else. The thing is I’ve learned to count my blessings instead of dwelling on the bad. If we look around and see all the good that God has and does still give us.
I was blessed to have my sister, Betty Jean. She has gone home to be with Jesus and I know she is waiting for me. She and I shared so many things and music was a strong bond between us. She would hear a song she liked or buy a new CD then call me on the phone and play it so I could hear and vice versa.
Even though we lived in different states we talked at least once a week. Thank God for Alexander Graham Bell. We laughed and talked a lot; sometimes we’d be on the phone for over an hour. Our husbands asked “How can you find so much to talk about?” But unless you’ve been that close to someone you just plain can not understand. We shared everything good or bad; we could tell each other anything. I know she carried some of my secrets to her grave and I will do the same.
Yes Betty Jean was my sister but she was also my best friend. There are times I miss her almost more than I can bear; I’ll hear a song and think “I want Betty Jean to hear that.” I was so blessed to have her and I know we will be together again. I hope you have someone like this in your life. If so tell them how much they mean to you and always tell them you love them; God did not promise us tomorrow so you might not get another chance.
Thank you for stopping by. Please come back soon. God bless.
Life on the creek was not too bad; at least I survived. Or did I?
I was in elementary school when they sold the farm and we moved to the outskirts of town. There would be no more freshly plowed fields to walk through crunching clods of dirt just to feel them crumble under our bare feet; no more deep well to draw cool water; no more faded gray barn that always smelled of dust and hay. But worst of all no more Hay-Burner to live in that barn. Momma was allowed to bring along a few chickens and the others were left to the people who bought our house. Momma and I cried because we didn’t want to leave our home but Daddy kept a stiff upper-lip. It was years later that I realized his heart was also breaking. Farming was his life and now the doctor said he could not do it anymore. So he gave up his dream, moved us to a house that wasn’t too bad at the start and he went to work as a night security guard at a sawmill.
Everything went well for a few years. We were the first family on the street to get a television. All the kids from several blocks gathered in our living-room every afternoon Monday through Friday to watch Circle-Six Ranch. They were sprawled on every place to sit and some lay with their elbows on the floor and heads resting in their hands almost hypnotized by the phony cowboy on the small black and white screen. They waited patiently for the cartoons. Momma gladly welcomed them and often served Vanilla Wafer cookies and Kool-Aid. She would hustle them out the door before dark and dinner time. If it was cold she would have a smile on her face as she bundled the little ones in sweaters, coats and some had hats, as she instructed the older kids to make sure everyone got home safely.
Then our lives changed completely. It was his birthday and when Daddy got home from work just as the sky was turning light gray with streaks of yellow from the sun that was trying to peep over the tree line behind our house we sang Happy Birthday. Momma had made his favorite Coconut Cake. I was promised a big slice when I got home. Then with a quick hug, kiss and “I love you” I was hustled off to school.
Those were the last words my Daddy and I said to each other. He had a heart attack and died later that morning.
All the neighbors gathered to console us and they brought food; which I later learned was The Creek Folks way to show they cared. I had never seen so many cakes, pies and fried chicken. But the huge lumps in my throat and stomach would not let me eat a bite. Momma couldn’t eat either. She stayed busy making and serving coffee and sweet iced tea and thanking everyone.
Yes, our life on the Creek changed and maybe some would view it as worse and some as better; the truth is up to the individual. We were soon to learn what the Creek life was really like.
Thank you for stopping by and of course there will be more Creek tales in the future.
Posted in blog, blogging, farming, Fiction, Love, memories, Momma, old buildings, southern, Southern Drama, Uncategorized
By now we all know, if we didn’t before, that Sunday is Father’s Day. I asked myself if I should jump on the wagon with everyone else and write something with that in mind. The television is blasting about how great dads are and how we should be grateful to and for our dads. And I know there are those that wish the day would just come and get it over. Some never knew their fathers and some would have been better off if they never knew theirs. Then there are those like me.
I lost my Daddy when I was in my teens. My Mom completely forgot what day it was and he was buried on my fourteenth birthday. Happy birthday to me, right? It didn’t matter because I was certainly in no mood to celebrate. After that every year as I got older the day brought sad memories instead of time for a celebration. Until I got old enough to realize it was a time to celebrate; not because Daddy died but because it was his graduation day so to speak. He is in Heaven and no longer has to face the trials and hard work of this old world.
He worked two jobs to make sure his family did not do without anything we needed right up to the day he died. Both jobs were at a sawmills, he did what they regularly do at a mill from twelve-thirty to five and four or five nights a week and/or weekends he was a night watchman (now they would have called it security) at another sawmill. When I smell the clean, sweet scent of fresh-cut lumber I think of my Daddy. That and Old Spice Cologne are the scents I relate to Daddy.
Sometimes when he worked weekends I would ride my bike out to the mill and stay with him. It was a huge place and I tagged along beside him as he made the rounds making sure everything was secure. If it was in the winter he would build a fire in an old rusty drum and cook coffee in an old coffee can and heat soup for us on top. As we drink and ate he told me stories about his youth. I could not picture him being young because he was fifty-five when I was born. When it wasn’t cold he would break out bologna, mayo and bread from the large cooler he carried. We made our sandwiches on top of the cooler then sat on the huge logs and ate as he talked. He gave me advice on how to live a good life. One thing I remember was: ‘Whether a job is big or small do it right or not at all.’ That was his philosophy and how he lived his life and I try to make it mine.
I’m well aware there are dads out there who could never measure up to the man my Daddy was. Oh yes, some of them have more money because it’s a fact we were not rolling in the dough. They buy their kids all kinds of expensive gifts and send them to the best private schools. However, they are so busy chasing the almighty dollar that they never stop and sit on a log, eat a bologna sandwich and talk to their kids. There are others who are such monsters they have no right to be called ‘Daddy’. And there are those who are simply sperm donors. When I look at them all I know God truly blessed me with a wonderful Daddy and I would not trade the time I spent with him for all the gold in China.
So if you have a good daddy go visit him, maybe make a sandwich and sit on the equivalent of a log and listen to what he has to say. Remember God didn’t promise us tomorrow. Until next time God bless.
Posted in blog, blogging, family, Fathers, God, Love, memories, peace, southern, Uncategorized
Tagged daddies, family, fathers, joy, love, memories, peace
Several years ago we went to visit on my in-laws farm. My brother-in-law had planted some sunflower seeds and the plants were over six feet tall with blooms almost the size of dinner plates. Yes I was impressed since I’m a flower nut.
So for the last couple of years, since I retired, I’ve tried to grow sunflowers but every year the squirrels dig up the seed and eat them. I tried everything from putting moth balls to hot pepper of the seed but still they ate them; the pesky creatures! This year my husband built me something like a mini greenhouse or maybe you’d call it a cage; whatever. The frame is about two feet high and wide and about four feet long and this he covered with screen wire. It fits on our picnic table, which we seldom use, on the patio and is the absolutely ideal to start seed; safe from the squirrels. When the sunflowers got about two feet tall I was able to put them in my flower garden which might be called an English Garden but I just call it eclectic. If I see a flower and like it I buy and plant it wherever it fits in the yard.
Now I pampered these plants and were so proud of them and sure enough they got about five and six feet tall. I only had five but that was enough to make me happy. And oh yes, what joy the day the huge bloom opened. If it wasn’t as big as my brother-in-law’s it was most definitely a close second.
Then disaster! I walked out there one morning and one of them was broken down to the ground. I wanted to cry but I sucked it up since I still had four. And in a few days another bit the dust. I knew it was my pesky neighbors who I feed and water. Shame on them for being so ungrateful! I had pampered these plants and watched them grow from seeds to seedlings and then big tall plants with large blooms. Yes, I was proud. But now that I had lost two I worried about the other three. I dug my husband’s large plastic owl from his shop, I say dug because he piles everything in that place. I call it his man cave. Anyway, I wedged the owl between some limbs on my crepe myrtle and I hope it scares the living daylights out of those squirrels.
Then I got to thinking; is that how God feels when someone refuses His offer of salvation. He knew us before we were knitted together in the womb. (Jeremiah 1:5 and Psalm 139:13) He knew us and He watched us grow from seed to seedling and then adulthood. Does it break His heart when we ignore Him? And when He sees Satan come along and destroy us.
God gave us the freedom of choice but it doesn’t mean He stops loving us when we refuse Him.
Thanks for stopping by. Until next time stop and enjoy the flowers along life’s way. God only gave us one life and He wants us to live it to the fullest. John 14:27
Posted in blog, faith, flowers, gardening, God, Love, memories, nature, photos, salvation, squirrels, Sunflowers, Uncategorized
Tagged flowers, gardening, God, salvation, squirrels, Sunflowers