Tag Archives: children

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No, HERE’S What We Are Going To Do, “Mister” Policeman…

I will need to make a disclaimer for this week’s story. I have good friends who are policemen/women, and they are good, honest, caring, and the kind of honorable professionals who would truly give their lives to protect you. This story is NOT about them and should not be considered as my opinion of this particular profession.

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I DID NOT WANT HIM!! I was doing just fine being the baby girl, and then, suddenly, one day, they brought him home. They tell me that I went out to the carport, sat on the steps, placed my head on my arms, and sobbed my little heart out. At least that’s what I did until Grandma came out, scooped me up in her lap and arms, and whispered the words that I so badly needed to hear…”You can be my baby…” And that was that! My world was fixed for the moment. Of course, I was still going to have to deal with him…

As you can tell by the expression on my face in the photo, my feelings for the little fella changed…I grew to adore him. He ended up being “my baby,” and I have loved him all of his life. I am his fierce protector and friend…ALWAYS looking out for him and taking care of him….no matter how old he gets…and tomorrow is his birthday. He is four years younger than me, and do we have stories…

As most of you know, my Father was a minister, which made us four children “preacher’s kids.” Out of the four of us, my brother was the only one that rebelled against everything that he was taught. From the period of high school to early adulthood, he was into everything…especially alcohol and drugs. My parents tried everything within their power to help, guide, and attempt to get him to realize that he had a huge problem. After one too many incidents and car accidents, my Mother told him, “No more! If you are involved in any other type of altercation or accident, do NOT call me of your father. We won’t be coming to help you!” We knew they meant it! I tried to help him with everything that was in me, but it fell on deaf ears. I tried to get him to understand that there would be no “next time” with Mother and Daddy. I could not, for the life of me, understand how this precious child/young man, who I loved more than life itself, had gotten so messed up.

I happened to be home visiting with my folks on this particular weekend. My brother left for a night of partying with his friends. At 1:00a.m. Mother got the call from the hospital…my brother had just wrapped his car around a telephone pole, right at the entrance of our little town’s hospital. In fact, the hospital was using emergency generators, as his wreck had knocked out their electrical power. I found out later that the emergency room staff had been listening to the police chase on their radios before the accident occurred. Mother came to my room and woke me up with the news. She said, “I’m not going to the hospital. I told him that if he did not straighten up, I would not come the next time.” She was crying as she spoke the words. I was shocked, even though I knew it was the right decision, and she and Daddy had to stand firm. So I got dressed as quickly as I could, and dashed out to the hospital.

I got to the hospital and they let me in to see him as soon as I arrived. Fortunately, he only had a few cuts and bruises. God had spared his life one more time. He was crying for Mother, and I explained that she would not be coming. He cried harder, repentant and asking forgiveness…with both of us knowing that he would not change…At that moment, one of the policemen, who had been chasing him (quite a few times…not just this particular night) asked to see me outside. We stepped out into the darkness at the entrance of the emergency room. He brought out a little white bag of cocaine and said, “We found this in your brother’s car. I’m going to have to arrest him.” In that moment, I remembered that little baby boy being brought home, all of our loving times together, and now this policeman was telling me that he was going to prison. I then did something unexpected. I looked at that cop, and said, “NO! You are NOT going to arrest my brother! You are going to let me take him, away from this town, and you will never see him again!” He said, “You know I cannot do that. I have to take him in!” And I said, “If you arrest my brother, I will tell your wife (a friend of mine) about the affair you are having with…(and I spoke the name of the young lady with whom he was involved).” He knew I was speaking the truth, and that I would not hesitate to follow through. My heart was beating a mile a minute as I waited for his answer. He slowly put the bag of cocaine back in this jacket, and said, “Get him out of here!” I did!!

And as they say….the rest is history…I did take him away from that little small town, and he did live with me for a number of years afterwards. There were “slip-ups”…I would find the occasional bag of marijuana…he had my car impounded while I was away on a business trip…but the end result was what I was hoping and praying for. He ended up getting his life together. I got to introduce him to the lady who became his wife. Together, they have been ministers for most of their lives. A happy ending after all…He will never know the number of prayers that were whispered for him by literally hundreds of people…CONSTANTLY! He was given that “second chance,” and has worked hard to “make it count.”

Don’t ever say “never.” If you had asked me beforehand, if I would ever blackmail a policeman, I would have thought that you were out of your mind…preposterous! However, in that moment, realizing the ramifications of my brother’s choices, and how those choices were going to impact his future, I acted in the only way that I could…The only way that my heart and love would allow. (And just for the record, I found out about 10 years ago that my brother did NOT have any cocaine in his car, or on his person, that night. He had every other kind of drug, but not cocaine. It was a setup!) My message for this week is this: keep having hope and believing in miracles. Don’t ever give up! Remember, someone, somewhere is whispering your name in prayer…Won’t you join me? Just for this week….

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You stole something from someone???

Hope everyone has had an excellent week! I cannot believe we are in August already. WHERE did the summer go? School is upon us, so I thought another “going to school” story would be in order…

I have twin sisters who are three years older than me (something I like to remind them of on occasion…). Being older meant they got to go to school before me. They would come home each afternoon telling me of all the activities, events, and fun times they were having. I just could NOT wait until I was old enough to go to school. I pictured myself sitting in a little desk, learning how to write, add and subtract, having such fun at recess, and making a lot of new friends. The day finally came around and my dream came true…I was going to school! For some reason, however, it just did not turn out as I had planned. I got THREE zeros (out of a possible score of 100), AND I got a spanking on the first day! You won’t be able to guess what it was for….OK, I’ll tell you…TALKING!!

We were in our little reading circle, and the teacher was called out of the room for a moment. Before she left, she told us to remain quiet (which I guess is the meaning of “not talking”). Of course, as soon as she vacated the room, I could not possibly have sat there and kept my mouth shut. (Those of you who know me personally, know this to be true…) I started talking, and as a result, all of us in the reading circle were talking when the teacher returned. She simply went over, got her little paddle, and “made the circle,” lightly tapping each of our legs. I was devastated! However, I learned a valuable lesson that day: you don’t talk when the teacher leaves the room and has told you NOT to talk. As an aside, I will tell you that throughout my school years, I had to write the sentence, “I will not talk in class.” about a zillion times…And by the way, I ended up having the teacher, Ms. Bertie, for first and second grade, and loved her so much that we kept in contact till her death (and she lived to be 90+). She taught me more than I can convey, but that is not really the story for this week. It is just the “lead in.”

My family was poor. We never lacked food or clothing, or any other item that was a “necessity,” however, there was never any money left for “frivolities.” We were rich in family and love! (And to be honest, I did not KNOW we were poor until I became an adult…) When I went to school that first year, I saw students who had EVERYTHING…the neatest erasers, the neatest notebooks, the neatest book sacks. As a young child, it was extremely hard not to notice those things. This one kid (and I will be honest, I cannot remember whether it was a boy or girl) had a way cool notebook. I would watch them open it, write in it, close it, and place it in the little “cubby hole” under their desk seat. I coveted that notebook. I dreamed about that notebook. I wanted that notebook. And I was going to get it….One day, the notebook was left out, unattended. No one was in the classroom, and certainly no one was watching me. I grabbed that notebook, placed it in my little cubby hole, and sat with my jacket covering the seat of my desk, so that no one could see the stolen item. The minute I took it, I felt horrible; however, I wrapped it up in my jacket and took it home with me. Once I got the notebook home, I hid it in my room from my sisters and parents. I could not even look any of them in the eye. I was so ashamed of what I had done, that I could not tell anyone about it…and I certainly could not USE the notebook. I was so filled with guilt and remorse, and I couldn’t return the stolen property, without confessing what I had done, so I just threw the notebook away where no one would find it. I never stole anything from anyone EVER again for the rest of my life. Lesson learned.

Now here is the kicker to that story…to this very day, I wish I could have confessed to that person, and asked their forgiveness. If I knew who the person was, I would track them down, right now, tell them the story, apologize, and ask them to forgive me. It has bothered me that much! There are very few incidents in my life that I regret, but this is one of them…I knew right from wrong, and I knew that you NEVER took something that did not belong to you. It was not, and is not, who I am. You see, I DO have a conscience. I think you should earn what you have, not just take it from someone else. Won’t you join me? Just for this week….

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I did what you said….

It seems that it is back to school time…everyone is rushing around trying to enjoy the last few days of “summer freedom,” and parents are attempting to clothe and “supply” their children in order to be ready for that first day… No matter how old I get, I still think that I should be getting ready to go back to school when it nears September. Just to let you know how bad I am about this, and how strong that “pull” is for me, I will share a little secret. At this time of year, when I go into a store, I find myself invariably drawn to the school supplies aisle. I will pick up those “composition books,” new pencils, etc. and hold them to by nose and just breathe in that wonderful smell of “school.” I’m sure I have been flagged in numerous stores as “that woman who sniffs the school supplies.” She’s baaaccckkkk…. So, of course, this week’s post is about school….

My Mother told me that when I was five years old, she was cooking dinner, and I walked up to her at the stove and said, “When I grow up, I am going to college.” Now, I don’t know how on earth I even knew what a college was. We were poor, lived on a farm, and had no TV. However, she said that she never doubted for a moment that I would go, and that I would attain that goal. Twelve years later, I was off to college. I got grants, scholarships, and worked constantly to pay my way through. I did attain that goal. Upon graduation, I was determined to work in my field of education and make a career for myself. I attained that goal. I said that I would have my dream car, a midnight blue corvette, five years after graduation. I attained that goal also. You see the pattern here; right? It started very early for me…

My grandmother had a sister, whose name was Mabel. However, EVERYONE called her “Spunk.” So, to me, she was Aunt Spunk. When I entered the first grade, she told me that if I made all A’s the entire year, that she would give me a dollar. Now, it may not sound like much money to you, but to a five-year old back then, a dollar was a lot of money!! So I worked hard all year, and sure enough…I made all A’s. The first thing that I did when I got the report card was write a letter to my Aunt. My mother did not know anything about the letter – I just “took care of business” on my own. So the letter went something like this….”Dear Aunt Spuck, I made all As. Send me that doller.” I addressed the envelope to “Ms. Spuck,” with no street address, but I did write the town (it was a different one from where I lived) and state with no zip. She got it!! In the return mail, I got her congratulatory letter AND the dollar!! I was so pleased with myself. Fast forward sixteen years later and I was graduating from college. My Aunt Spunk gave me a wonderful graduation gift, and secretly hidden within the gift was the envelope and letter that I had sent her sixteen years earlier, asking for that “doller.” She had kept it throughout the years to give to me, and I still have it today. It serves as a reminder that if you set goals, and work hard, you can attain pretty much whatever you want…

I don’t understand how people get anything accomplished if they never establish goals. Every few years I will ask myself…is this what you wanted?…do you want to change anything or do anything differently?…is there something else you want to accomplish? It is a bit of hope, faith, dreams, belief in one’s self, and a LOT of hard work! As “cliche” as it sounds, today really is the first day of the rest of your life. What are you doing with it? OR what do you WANT to do with it? I want to make the most of my life…and I work at it every day…Won’t you join me? Just for this week…

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You’re not smart enough to do that….

Not too long ago, I gave the opening keynote at a large state association annual conference. The title of my session was: “The Power at Hand.” Basically, I explain to people how much power they have within themselves (most don’t realize this…), and I encourage them to discover that power, and use it for good in their own lives…and subsequently, impact the world in which they live. As is the norm in these type of situations (and a part of my work that I love…), attendees will come up after the session, introduce themselves and we “visit” for a little while. The same routine was occurring at the end of this particular presentation.

As I was talking with some of the people, I noticed a lady over to the side, by herself, waiting to talk with me. She was crying. She very patiently waited for all the other people to leave, and she slowly made her way to me. As she walked towards me, she went from silently crying to almost convulsive sobs. When she got within reaching distance, I stretched out my arms to this perfect stranger, and clutched her to my chest, just like a mother trying to comfort a child. I let her sob for quite a few minutes. 

As the sobs began to subside, she began to tell me her story. The first words out of her mouth were, “I ALWAYS wanted to be a nurse.” I looked at her and asked the obvious question, “Why did you not become one?” She looked at me so pitifully and said that when she was in high school, the career counselor told her she was not smart enough to be a nurse. My first reaction to this revelation was one of total and complete sorrow. The second reaction was one of righteous ANGER!! I wanted vengeance for this woman…I wanted to correct the situation…I wanted that “career” counselor to grovel, prostrate, in front of this broken women, and beg for her forgiveness. But, being the professional that I am, I did not indicate any of that. I realized that the words I spoke to this sweet, sweet woman, were going to be just as important as the words of that high school counselor. 

With my arms still around her, I asked, “What is your current position?” She said, “I am Supervisor of the Activity Department at a nursing facility.” I then asked a question that I already knew the answer to, “Do you have annual state and federal surveys (inspections)?” She indicated that she did. I asked, “Have you ever received a deficiency, or citation for noncompliance?” She said, “No, never!” And then I said, “Then you must be pretty smart! I know the regulations, as well as the survey process, and I am quite aware that an unintelligent person would not be able to pass those surveys.” She looked at me as if she had never thought of that, and said, “You’re RIGHT!!” We talked for quite a while longer, and then I told her that she could still become a nurse if she wanted to…that she had time to do so. I also encouraged her to stop giving that old high school counselor the “power” over her life and how she perceived herself. We parted ways at the end of our conversation…her, a much happier, determined woman…me, a little sadder that she had lost so many years, believing the words of a “professional in authority,” yet, I was also a little happier in that I do believe the words I used actually helped her realize the possibilities and potential of her life.

What words of encouragement to others have you used today? I hear parents telling children how dumb they are, how they are “driving them crazy,” how “bothersome” they are…and my heart breaks for that child. I hear couples continually finding fault with each other, using words and “negatives” to describe actions, intelligence and decisions…and my heart breaks for those couples. I see friends use sweeter words with perfect strangers, just in passing, than they use with the friends of their heart…and my heart breaks for those individuals. A physical blow will at some point heal; that does not diminish its severity. However, words pierce the very souls of children, wives, husbands, brothers, sisters, friends, elders, parents, and even though time heals most incidents, “words” are almost always remembered. What do your words say about you? Do your words encourage and comfort those in your life, or do they continually berate and harm? You see in my story that “words” caused a young person to lose belief in a dream, and impacted how she viewed herself the rest of her life. I want my words to be remembered because they were kind, supportive, encouraging, and most of all…LOVING! Won’t you join me? Just for this week…

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Yummm…..This is delicious!!

As you can see I am late in my post this week. A long week of repair work at my Dad’s house, followed by a very long road trip back late last night…torrential rain…four long traffic jams due to wrecks…so, the article did not get written. I apologize. I realized that last week was the half-way mark of my year’s commitment to this blog. I can’t believe that I have actually written 26 articles! I hope that you still enjoy reading them as much as I do writing them. So, here is this week’s story…

My Mother was one of the greatest cooks ever!! Period!! No argument!! If I could only be half the cook she was, I would be considered a “wonder in the kitchen.” It was one summer many years ago, and fresh peaches had just come into harvest. As anyone knows from the South, there is nothing quite like that first bite of a fresh, home-grown peach. Mama had gone down to the little farmer’s market in town, by the courthouse, and had purchased some fresh peaches. She was planning on making us an “out of this world” peach cobbler. She had a new recipe, and she could not wait to try it out on us.

All afternoon we were forced to smell the delicious aromas coming out of the kitchen. Our mouths were drooling just with the expectation of what was to come! The time finally arrived for her to pull the cobbler out of the oven and share her “masterpiece” with the family. We were all oohing and ahhhing over her creation…it looked like a cobbler straight out of the pages of Southern Living Magazine…and smelled something wonderful!

Mother got us each a bowl and we stood in line to get a scoop of that peach cobbler. She stuck a  spoon into the cobbler to dip the first serving out…only there was a  problem…the spoon could not break the surface of the cobbler. She dug in with a little more force, attempting to scoop up a bite full. Still no luck! We all began looking at each other, wondering what was going on. She finally got a knife and attempted to cut us a piece of cobbler. The knife would not even make a dent in the cobbler. By this time Mother was so distressed, and we were famished for the taste of what we had smelled all afternoon. Finally my Father picked up the cobbler as one piece and tried to tear it apart. By this time, all of us were on the floor laughing hysterically, for you see, Mama NEVER messed up with cooking! And it was so funny seeing Daddy trying to tear the cobbler apart with his bare hands, so we could all get a little taste. He was finally successful in getting each of us a little piece to “gnaw on.” The taste was out of this world…you just couldn’t eat it!! We got to calling it the “peach pot pie.” And for years afterward, all anyone would have to say is “peach pot pie” and it would send us all into shrieks, and we would relive the event once again. My Mother never did figure out what happened to make it turn out so disastrously, but it sure turned into one of our favorite family “moments.”

So many times we make very specific plans and arrangements as to how “things should go” in our lives…family gatherings, meals, events, celebrations, holidays… And most times, things never go according to plans. And oh, the stress we place on ourselves trying to achieve that “perfection.” Maybe we should relax a little, and try not to make everything so “perfect,” for out of imperfection may come one of the most cherished moments of your life. I’m not going to worry so much about perfection. I will strive for excellence, but even in failure, there may just be some success…Won’t you join me? Just for this week…

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Hang in there, baby!!

We are definitely feeling summer! Hot days, afternoon thunderstorms, sitting on the back porch swing watching fireflies in the evening, visits and sweet conversations with friends on the lake. Seems it took a long time to get here, so you won’t hear me complaining about the heat. Life truly is good! This all brings to mind a good “summer” story…

Most of my friends and family know that as much as I love the water, I have a healthy respect for it, and would not really be considered a “strong” swimmer. It is well known that I cannot properly hold my breath under water without the use of “nose clips.” I don’t know what the problem is, but ever since I had my adenoids removed, water just pours up my nose when I swim underwater. I will do almost anything though, if I have those trusty nose clips…

As I have gotten older, my selection of appropriate swimwear has become a major production each summer…no more bikinis, no two-pieces, and I have developed a fondness for those “body-enhancing” swimsuits. They claim to take 10 pounds off of you, and even have the ability to transform or camouflage “problematic” body parts. A true, modern day miracle!

On this particular occasion, we had just gotten a new tube to pull behind the boat…a “Hydra-Maniac.” We were out in the middle of the lake, and it was my turn to experience the “maniac.” I stepped toward the back of the boat, slung my legs over the side, and was about to get into the tube. Now, someone with half a brain would have known to slowly lower their body into the tube…But, me, in my infinite wisdom, determined that the best way to get in, was to simply step into the middle of the tube. Of course, as I did this, the middle of the tube collapsed with my weight, and I began pitching forward, arms flailing wildly about, as I tried to correct my fall. The last words I heard my friends screaming, just before I stepped off the boat were, “Cat! Nooooooo!!” So as I am wildly sliding upside down into the water, the bottom of my one-piece swimsuit caught on one of the boat cleats. This stopped my fall, however, now I was hanging upside down, on the side of the boat…laughing hysterically at my stupidity and predicament. Hanging there, by the bottom of my swimsuit, I was thinking…”Wow! This fabric really IS phenomenal!” Everyone was trying to figure out how to help me. They really could not get to me, to pull me back into the boat, and the prevailing thought was that eventually the swimsuit fabric would tear….no such luck! I’m telling you, this was some kind of space age, supersonic material!! The decision was finally made to try and ease the fabric off the cleat, and simply let me drop into the water. Of course, by this time (and you should already be picking up on this lifetime pattern of mine…) a crowd of observers had gathered…I plopped into the water with as much dignity as I could muster, and came up sputtering like a drowned rat. Everything turned out OK, but it did give new meaning to the words, “Hang in there!”

Have you noticed that people say those words a lot when you are going through “tough” times? “Hang in there!” What does that actually mean? And how does it help? I have figured out that the words are meaningless. What they really mean to me is, “I’m not going to take any of my own time to offer you true assistance, support, comfort, or help. However, I have done my part by offering those consoling words, hang in there.”

I no longer use that phrase! If my path runs across someone who is going through a difficult time, I offer whatever I can do to help…whatever they will accept, whatever they need that I can provide. People need more than words…they need action! Won’t you join me? Just for this week….

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Dear Lord, save me from Facebook and politics!!

Friday was the first day of summer! If you are like us, we have had to wait quite a while for the warm weather. I don’t think I can ever remember wearing a jacket at the end of June.  There is something just not right with that picture…Anyway, I am so glad that the days are warmer and we can actually begin doing some of those wonderful summer activities. Hope you are enjoying this time of the year…

This past week, I had a friend post on Facebook, “I will no longer ever post any thing political…” Apparently, she had posted something very innocent on her page, and someone disagreed with her statement, and took her to task for it. Numerous supporters shared stories of how they had been “unfriended” by “friends” during the elections, because (very obviously) they were not voting for the “right” person. Still others told stories of being “viciously attacked” through words, simply because there was a difference of opinion. It is amazing to me that the ones who are so quick to pounce on someone for their views, will be the first to decry that their own rights are being violated if someone happens to disagree with them. Wow! The way I see it is that if you have the right (and feel compelled to do so) to voice your opinions in whatever way you want (interpret rant and rave) via Facebook, and I am forced to see it, look at it, think about it, be bothered by it, etc., etc., etc., then you should certainly give me the respect to hear my views and opinions. It should go both ways. 

I am so thankful that not everyone sees things the way I do. How boring life would be, and how limited my growth as a person would be. I love it when individuals in my conference sessions will raise their hand, and say, “I’m sorry, Ms. Selman, but I disagree with what you just said.” I always smile and say,”Wonderful! Tell me why you disagree!” For some, they cannot tell me WHY they disagree, just that they disagree. I toss those comments in the “do not be concerned about” file. However, for those who can share with me their opinions, thoughts, and views in an articulate, heartfelt, passionate manner, I LISTEN!! And beyond that, I learn from it. Some times those remarks actually give me new insight and I will change my opinion or perspective. Speaking of perspective, I discovered something interesting in the bathroom the other day. (No, don’t be alarmed, we are not discussing any body parts here…) It just so happens that I have a free-standing toilet tissue holder in my bathroom. I am one of those people who turns my toilet tissue so that it rolls “over” the top. As I was looking at it, I realized that someone had turned the toilet tissue to roll “under” – not the way I like it. As I was pondering that, I saw that no one had actually turned the toilet tissue ANY way. The stand had simply gotten turned around. So, if someone were looking at the stand from the left, the toilet tissue would be going over the top. If someone were looking at the stand from the right, the toilet tissue would be going under the bottom. I thought to myself, if you asked someone to tell you which way the toilet tissue was turned, you would get two different answers (depending on where the respondents were standing), and both answers would be absolutely correct!!

I have friends from almost every realm of the human species. Some are so conservative, with narrow thinking, and view the world one way, and one way only. Then we go across the spectrum, all the way to the other side, and I have friends that are so liberal, free-spirited, and free-thinking that it can almost take your breath away. And you know what? I would not trade any of them for any amount of money in the world. I love all of them, especially for their uniqueness and individuality. Each person that I come in contact with, who becomes a part of my world, I learn from. They either reaffirm what I know to be true and right within my own beliefs, or they open my mind to consider other perspectives, and it broadens my knowledge and my “personhood.” But I would only discover that if I am open-minded, willing to listen and share.

So, to my friend, I would say this: Do not give the control of what you say, write, or think to someone else, simply because they disagree with you. After all, we DO live in America, where you are supposed to be able to say exactly what you think…In fact, it is actually written into the Bill of Rights, and guaranteed by our Constitution! I, as well as countless others, are extremely interested in what you have to say, think, and do. And even if we disagree on some issues, I will show you the respect of listening, as this is a way that I can also grow and learn as a person. We should listen with an open mind to others’ thoughts, opinions, beliefs, and YES, even politics. It is called dialogue; it is called respect; it is called friendship. Those friends who “unfriend” you because you do not share their views, are probably not the people you want as friends to begin with, and how sophomoric is that? I intend to be the kind of friend that people are comfortable and safe with sharing their innermost thoughts and beliefs. Won’t you join me? Just for this week…

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How About a Little Coke Up Your Nose???

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Today is Father’s Day! Due to my schedule, I was unable to be with my father this Sunday; however, I went and spent five days with him a little over a week ago. So, I got my “Daddy fix” in, and got some good “sugar” during the process…We celebrated “Father’s Day” at that time. I did get to talk with him today, and told him how much I loved him, and that I was so glad that he was my father. I think that is a pretty good lead-in for this week’s story…

When I was a child, I absolutely idolized my Daddy. Whenever he was at home, not working, I was his shadow. He worked so hard in construction every day, out in the hot, hot temperatures. When he would come home, he had sweat so much during the day, and was so exhausted from the heat, that his voice would almost be gone, and his eyes were just sunken back into his head. As a child, I did not realize how hard he worked to take care of, and provide for, us. He was simply my Daddy, and I wanted to be just like him.

When he would come home, the first thing he would do, of course, was to take a nice cool bath. Once he had done that, he would get a tall glass bottle of Coca Cola, lay down on the floor in front of the couch, and prop his legs up on the couch, with one arm behind his head. I would lay down beside him, prop my legs up as best I could (I was really, really small), and put one tiny arm behind my head…just like him. On this particular night, I was probably about 4 years old, and he had shared his coca cola with me in a small glass. Lying there, he tipped that bottle to his mouth, and swigged a good part of his Coke. I wanted to do everything just like him, so I tipped up my little glass of Coke, and of course, as you can imagine, it went up my nose and all over my face! It scared and startled me, and I started crying, because I could not understand why I had made a mess, while Daddy was able to get all of his Coke into his mouth. Not to mention, that I was choking because I had Coca Cola up my nose…Now, I know that Daddy was tired, and the last thing he wanted to deal with was a child’s mishap and tears. However, my father picked me up so sweetly, held me close to his chest, and told me that everything would be OK. He then gave me a swig of Coke from his bottle, and explained to me why I could not do the same with a glass. It was one of many lessons that he taught me throughout my life.

He taught me how to build, roof, paint, repair. Any time I build a “project,” there is a little voice in my head that ALWAYS says…”just like Daddy.” He taught me how to drive a car AND a truck (stick shift on the column), and whenever I would start driving a little too fast, he would say, “gettin’ a little too pure…” and I knew to slow down. He taught me how to love by loving my sweet Mother, and his family. He taught me how to love God, because he lived that life every single day of his life. And now he is teaching me how to deal with loss, as he lives a life without my Mother. He is a quiet man, but when he is not at home, the house is so silent and lonesome. I am so glad that I still have him in my life! He is a sweet, tender man, and no matter how old I get, he will always be my “Daddy.” 

Fathers, please realize the path you chose when you had a child. Understand that children want to be just like their fathers…whatever you do…they will also end up doing. Set the example, have patience, and teach your children well. Love them with all of your heart! I will be extra thankful that I had, and have a Father who cared. Won’t you join me? Just for this week…

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So When Do You Leave….?

I LOVE elephants!! Do you know why? Well, the first reason is that my best friend has collected elephants (not the real ones, of course…) all of her life, and I have grown to love them and have learned an awful lot about them as a result. Elephants are such a loving family unit…and “the Aunts” are heavily involved in helping and assisting with the development, growth, and care of all the new babies that are born into their family unit. You see, I REALLY like that part, because I AM an “Aunt” – many times over! In fact, I am a GREAT Aunt (literally and figuratively….)! All of my nieces and nephews have never thought of me as an adult…most of them view me as a “toy” to play with…and I would have it no other way! There is something in my heart that just jumps and explodes when I see the delight in their eyes when they finally land on me. It is truly intoxicating!

Whether you like Hillary Clinton, or you don’t, is NOT important to me; however, I strongly believe one of her philosophies…that it DOES take a village to raise a child. It takes the parents, grandparents, aunts, uncles, cousins, church leaders/Sunday School teachers, school teachers, neighbors, friends, and community – that IS a village, by the way. At least, that’s the way it was when I was growing up. We felt “safe” because “someone” was always watching out for us, and teaching us life lessons. As an Aunt, I have taken the responsibilities of that “job” very seriously. I have tried to “broaden my nieces’ and nephews’ horizons” – to let them know there was more in the world than they saw in their own, small town…to let them know that, especially in people, “different” did not mean “wrong,” but just different…that there was nobody better than who they were, or who they could be…that they could be and do anything they wanted in life if they worked for it…that faith in God was what you believed, trusted, lived and relied upon…and that life should be worth living – doing what you enjoyed. Most importantly, each one knows that there is never anything they could do in life that would affect the tremendous love I have for them. It is truly unconditional! They know they could tell me anything, do anything, and my love would never waver…that I am ALWAYS only a phone call away. So now that you have all of the background, let’s get to this week’s story…

My baby brother and his wife tried for many years to have a child. My sister-in-law (and I use that word so you know who I am talking about, but in our family, she is indeed my sister, period) had a battle with cancer early in their marriage. She had to have heavy doses of radiation and chemotherapy. As a result, she was told that the treatments had left her sterile. So, the journey began to adopt a little one into the family. This journey went on for many, many years…Resulting in heartbreak, after heartbreak! Each new opportunity for adoption failed. All of our hearts were sad. Then one day, they got a message from a personal friend (they were all officers in the Salvation Army at this time). He reported that a church family’s young daughter had become pregnant, out of wedlock, and they were placing the baby up for adoption. There was only one catch…the family wanted each couple, who wanted that precious baby, to write a letter explaining why they wanted a child, and how they would raise the child. Out of all the families submitting letters, my brother and his wife were chosen!! We were thrilled!!! The time came for the young lady to give birth, and she had a little girl, my Elizabeth! We got her when she was two days old, and from that moment, I was mesmerized. I cannot understand people who say that could not love a child as much, who is not of “their blood.” We know NO difference!! She is ours!!! In fact, both my brother and I will forget and say, well…you got your allergies from us…her nose is an exact replica of my brother’s…but it would NOT make any difference if it weren’t . (And, by the way, it ended up that the Drs. were wrong…a little boy was born a few years after Elizabeth arrived…., and yes, we love him to death also…even though he is not adopted…He will also have a post about him later on…)

She and I have had a special relationship from day one. When she was really little, she could not say my name, so I became “Aunt Tat.” There was no greater pleasure for me than when she would crawl up in my lap, place those little chubby arms around my neck, and say, “I wuv you, Aunt Tat!” On this particular day, I was down visiting with my folks, and we were all sitting out in the sunroom. Of course, Elizabeth was sitting in my lap, and I was loving every minute of it. As we were sitting there, she snuggled in a little closer to me, and very quietly said, “I know where you are taking me this summer.” Surprised, I said, “Well, tell me, where am I taking you?” She looked at me with those beautiful, blue eyes, smiling from ear to ear, and said, “Disneyworld!” I quickly looked over her head to my Mother, who was shaking with laughter, and she mouthed, “When are you leaving?” I chuckled, and said, “As soon as I can clear my schedule…” And yes, we did go to Disneyworld (which will be a later blog article) that summer, and had a wonderful time…just us girls…She has now become a Mom herself, and has given me two more opportunities to be an aunt. Her birthday is this coming week, and I could not be prouder of her, or love her any more than I do today.

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Those of you who ARE those special Aunts…remember the impact that you can have on a child’s life…and will continue to have as they grow. Help those mothers who are finding it a little difficult to do it all by themselves. Be an elephant!!! That’s what I will be doing…Won’t you join me? Just for this week….

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It’s Dangerous in There!!!

When my little niece (Elizabeth, who has now become a lovely lady with children of her own) was learning how to use the potty, it was a nightmare for her. She would get so upset when “the time” would come, and she did NOT want to go to the bathroom. My brother finally asked her why she got so upset when she needed to go potty. She looked up at him, with those big, beautiful, blue eyes, and said, “Dad, it’s DANGEROUS in there!” We all got a good laugh at that, and eventually, she got the hang of it and overcame her fear of the bathroom. So here is this week’s story…

I was on a business trip with a friend and we had quite a layover in one of the major airports. Not wanting to “just sit,” we had walked over the entire length of the airport two or three times (several miles it seemed…); had eaten as much food as we could possibly hold; and had “window-shopped” as much as we could. (Neither one of us are much on shopping to begin with….) It got a little closer to the time for us to board the plane, and I thought that maybe I should visit the restroom one more time before getting on the next flight. I asked my friend if she would mind watching my stuff, and off to the restroom I went.

Now, airport bathrooms have changed over the years, and the “improvements” that have been made are always a “challenge,” depending on which airport you are in. The first improvement involved providing different seat heights for the toilets….some sit tall, some are short, some are in-between. There’s nothing more comforting than to rush into a cubicle, thinking the seat is at a certain height, and realize (when you hit the seat a little harder than anticipated) that you picked a cubicle with a “short” toilet. Then came the plastic rotating seat covers…did you rotate the plastic before you sat down…after you sat down…where was the button to initiate said rotation…and HOW would I know if they were just not recycling the same piece of plastic over and over to save money…I came up with a solution for that problem: mark an “x” on the plastic seat, press the button to rotate the seat cover, and look to see if your “x” came around again. (Now before you think that I have lost my mind and have a germ phobia, let’s look at this rationally…have you SEEN the people who fly on planes nowadays???? I need not say more…) Then came the paper seat covers. Great idea, I thought! So, I got the seat cover in place, turned around, unzipped my pants, and just as I was about to make contact with the seat….SWOOOOSH!! The toilet had automatically flushed itself and I no longer had a paper armor against the germs of society (the flush took my paper seat cover with it…). I stood up and tried to figure out how to “outwit” the toilet…So, this is what I did: I unzipped my pants, assumed the position and got ready to make contact. At the last minute, I slipped the toilet seat cover into place, and hurriedly sat down before the toilet flushed. SUCCESS!!!

Now that I had conquered the challenges within the cubicle, I was ready to face the remaining few…the automatic soap dispenser, the automatic water dispenser, and the automatic hand-drying options…Now, you need to know up front that there is something really goofy with my body (no snide remarks from those who know me really well…). Apparently, I do not have within my chromosomes the exact chemistry that will respond to, or activate, any type of “automatic” dispenser. It is indeed an effort to get anything to work for me, and I usually end up having to make numerous attempts at different sinks. I went to the first soap dispenser….no matter what I did, what motion I performed with my hands….no  soap. So I went to the next sink…same thing…a lot of motion and activity on my part, but still no soap. (Please understand that I have to complete this same exercise in EVERY airport bathroom that I visit…) I moved on to the next sink with even MORE enthusiastic motion and play of my hands…STILL no soap. I moved to the final sink. That was when disaster struck…the soap dispenser not only worked, but it was a super sonic dispenser! The flow of soap squirted out, shot completely OVER the sink, and landed directly on the front of my pants! I looked down and all I saw was a great big wad of white soap beginning to ooze slowly down the front of my pants. Of course, I panicked and thought, “get some paper towels, and DO IT NOW!” (I did mention that the paper towel dispenser was “automatic” also; didn’t I?) I waved my hands across the sensor. It did nothing! I tried two hands, wildly motioning in the senseless attempt to just activate it. STILL…nothing!!! I went to another dispenser…nothing. I was wild by this time because the soap had spread on my pants down to the crotch area. I began dancing and moving my body all different ways in front of the sensor to JUST GET SOME PAPER TOWELS!! By this time, I had drawn a crowd, who could not figure out if I was having a seizure of some sort, or that I was just a really weird air traveler. In a way of explanation to my “audience,” I was uttering under my breath as I was dancing…”soap”…”flew out of dispenser”…”on my pants”…”got to get it off”…”doesn’t work for me.” I finally realized that I was not ever going to get a paper towel, so I ran back into a cubicle to get some toilet paper. Wiping rapidly, I attempted to remove the gummy soap from my pants. The toilet tissue, being dry, began rolling into little balls and STICKING to the soap that was STICKING to my pants. It was time to wet the paper towel and see if that would help.  Guess what? The water dispenser was “automatic” also….On the fourth attempt, at the fourth sink, the water began to flow. Others began to help me. THEY were able to get some paper towels, and we made a valiant effort to remove all of the particles that had become a permanent part of my pants. Everyone, including me, eventually accepted defeat and gave up! As I was leaving, I noticed a woman having a little difficulty of her own in getting the paper towel dispenser to work. I leaned over and confidentially whispered, “you have to dance!”

I finally came out of the bathroom and headed in the direction of my friend. She took one good look at me, and those soap-gummed pants, and asked “What happened to you???” I just looked at her and said, “The bathroom has become a very dangerous place….”

There are people in our lives who have fears, whether actual or perceived. At times, we may dismiss those fears as being “silly” or unfounded simply because they are not our fears. As a result, we are not compassionate, patient, or understanding. I am going to be more understanding and tolerant of those who express concern or fear over events, tasks or actions that they face. I am going to provide the necessary support to assist them in facing their fear, and let them know that they are not alone…that I am there with them. Won’t you join me? Just for this week…