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The Third Floor Georgia Hall Gang…

Last year at this time I was in Nashville, TN, getting together with my “old gang” from college. There were eight of us who lived in one dorm, Georgia Hall, at Trevecca Nazarene University. We were known as the “Third Floor Georgia Hall Gang.” We have kept in touch all of these years, getting together every now and then to “catch up,” and maintain our lifelong friendships. Since most of us were the same age, we had decided that when we all turned 60, we would meet and celebrate together. Although one of the gang could not make it, the rest cleared their schedules and met in Nashville a year ago this weekend. We realized that it had been 15 years since all of us had gotten together as a group!

This group of ladies is so close that when we get together, it is as if we have never been separated. The conversation flows, and of course, the laughter is absolutely unstoppable. These are the friends that I grew up with. These are the friends who shared the same faith, values, and beliefs as mine. The weekend together was wonderful! We learned of accomplishments, births, deaths, tragedies and hardships. We looked at photos, past and recent. We shared stories of wonder and heartache, and some that were even a little “bizarre!” It was a wonderful weekend, and we did not want to leave. We’ve done a little better this year with keeping in touch. These ladies will never know the depth of my love and feelings for their friendships.

Friends that we made years ago cannot be replaced or matched. They are precious treasures and hold a place in our hearts that no one else can fill. As you get older, it seems more difficult to make friends. New friends, although wonderful, don’t share your history; they don’t know you “from when.” How long has it been since you talked with an old friend? Do they know how you feel about them? Have you simply lost touch? Could it be that they might really need to hear from you, just at this very moment? Could it be that they might need encouragement, and it would be more meaningful, coming from you? And maybe, just maybe, could it be that they might need “just to hear your voice…?” I think I am going to call a different “old” friend each day, just to say hello and see how they’re doing. 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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Please, don’t let me die alone…

When I first started working in nursing homes, my background and education was in social work. Oh, the plans I had in my head regarding this profession and career. I was going to blaze new paths for the field of social work…I was going to “save the world”…I was going to solve people’s problems and make all of their lives so much better. Initially, I found this “mission” to be a little harder than I had anticipated. Each day I learned that there was quite a bit of knowledge that I needed, that could not be found in any textbook. Much of what I did in the beginning was “trial by fire.”

Just as an aside, you need to know…People who work with elders, especially those precious ones who live in nursing homes, find that it is possible to have a few “favorite” people who are in their care…those individuals who you automatically “connect” with…they need and give just a little extra loving and affection. They may have no family at all. They may have been abused. They may simply be wanting to be loved. For whatever reason, you find that you form a strong bond with these wonderful, old people. The professionalism comes into play in that the “favoritism” is never shown, especially in front of other residents. They are all cared for, loved, and attended to the very same. At least in my buildings they were!!

There was a very tiny African American lady that became a “favorite” of mine. She had no family that I could find, and absolutely no one ever came to visit her. We became fast friends, and would spend time each day singing old Spirituals and visiting. Oh, how she loved to sing! When she saw me coming around the corner of the hallway, her eyes would light up, and she would grin from ear to ear. One day I arrived at work to discover that she had a massive stroke the night before and was in the hospital. She was dying, and they returned her to the only home and family that she knew at that time…us! She had a tube in her nose, made horrible gurgling sounds, body-jerked a lot from fear, and her eyes would dart around…just practically scared to death! I would hold her hand, stroke her hair, and try to give comfort as best I could. However, I knew that I was NOT meeting her needs. It kept me awake for a number of nights. One night, I sat straight up in my bed, with a good plan of action for the next day… and it did NOT come from a textbook. It just felt like the right thing to do.

I walked into her room, took my shoes off, climbed up into the bed with her, put my arm under her, placed her head on my shoulder, and held her just like a mother would a child. I began singing to her very gently. She stopped jerking, her eyes stopped darting around, and for the first time since she had returned from the hospital, her breathing came easy and she slept. I began doing this several times a day, as often as my schedule would allow. She ended up dying in my arms one morning. She finally found the peace that she so needed, and I felt that I had been able to give her a gift in dying, just as she had given me a gift in living.

We mostly overlook those people who have lived long, full lives, and have now outlived everyone they know. For them, there is no one to say to, “remember when we…” There are no shared memories. They are truly and forever alone. I cannot begin to fathom the depth of loneliness that they must feel and face each day. Each one of you reading this post has the ability to give just a little back to these precious elders. How about spending a little time with an old person? Visit with them, take the time to get to know them, and learn from them. You may find a love and friendship that just might mean more to you than you could possibly imagine. And what it means to them is indescribable. 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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It Will Never Be The Same Again…

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As many of you know, my Mother passed away in February – that means that this weekend holds a holiday that I have never experienced without my Mother. So, here’s the story for this week…

Two weeks ago I had to go grocery shopping. We were just about to head to the checkout, when I remembered that I needed just one more item. I rushed back to the area where I thought the item could be found, and turned down an aisle to get there a little faster. As soon as I started walking a few feet into the aisle, I realized that I had made a mistake. I had unknowingly turned down the greeting card aisle, and plastered everywhere were Mother’s Day cards. In an instant my eyes were filling with tears as I realized that this year I would not be buying a Mother’s Day card, nor would I be making the trip to spend the weekend with her in celebration. I left the aisle as quickly as I possibly could, and tried not to think about what I had just seen, and what it meant for me.

I will be honest…I have struggled with this loss, just as I struggled with her disease process. I have the skills, expertise and ability to train healthcare professionals in these areas, but I have been rather inept in helping myself. I have a very dear friend, who has watched this struggle of mine. She finally asked me, “Cat, just what are you thinking and feeling? What are you hoping for? What are you looking for?” And I tried to verbalize…I said, “I don’t feel Mother’s presence. In my mind, I just assumed, because we were so close, that when she died…I would feel her presence ‘with me’ constantly. That has not happened, and I don’t know what to do.” As soon as I expressed those thoughts, she said, “Cat, she is with you every day…she is in your heart…she is in your mind…she is living inside you.” And now comes the best part…she said, “All you have to do to ‘feel her’ is continue being the person that she wanted you to be.” And just like that, I felt a peace that I had not felt since Mama’s death. You see, I realized that this is something I could do! I can be the person she raised and was proud of…I can emulate the character, integrity and Christ-like traits that she taught by living example. You see, I simply do NOT know how else to be, but who I am…who she made…and who she loved.  I AM my Mother’s child!

For those of you whose mothers are still living…MAKE the time and effort to visit with them, make memories with them, enjoy them, just “be” with them…for one day, they absolutely will be gone from your life…and it will never be the same again. For those of you whose mothers are no longer living, do what I am doing…let’s live the lives that our Mamas taught us to live…strong in faith, compassion, loyalty and love…and ALWAYS doing for others. BE the person that “Mama” would have you be. Won’t you join me? Just for this week….

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Toto, We’re Not in Kansas Anymore…

As most of you know, due to my line of work, I have traveled a great deal in my life. Flying to several locations within a week is “normal” for me. I really don’t think about being up in the air, or the danger that could occur…it’s just a mode of transportation for me. However, I am always aware that we could go down in a fireball at a moment’s notice. I can’t live my life focusing on, or fearing that moment…I would be worried all of the time, and not be able to work at all. Throughout the years, I have had some “close” calls, and this week’s story involves one such time.

Years ago, when I first started my career, I consulted numerous nursing facilities in south Louisiana. There was only one airline that flew to the smaller cities in the state, and its name was Royale Airlines. The plane could seat approximately 12 people, and you could NOT stand up…the ceiling was too low. 

On this particular trip, the plane was full, and the forecast was for “bumpy weather.” Now, let’s remember that this was a little prop plane, not a jet. The weather was so terrible that we actually flew into a tornado. We were too far out to turn back to the airport, so the only hope was for us to fly directly through the tornado. The plane jerked, bumped, lost altitude, turned sideways…you name it, we did it! I was past the prayer of “Please, dear God, don’t let us crash.” I knew we were! I began praying, “Dear Lord, please let me have a heart attack before we crash!” Seriously!! My faith has always been one of the strongest aspects of my daily life, and during all of the mayhem, I began very quietly singing to myself, “Why should I feel discouraged? Why should shadows fall? Why should my heart be lonely, and long for heaven and home? When Jesus is my portion, my constant friend is He. His eye is on the sparrow, and I know He watches me…” I felt the most immediate calmness take over, and I was no longer afraid. We did manage to land, and we all kissed the pilot when our feet touched solid ground. And, of course, I was very thankful to God for having “watched over me.”

Fast forward 35 years later…it was my turn to stay with Mother at the nursing home as she lay dying. The facility received notice of a tornado warning, which meant they had to move every bed out of every room into the hallway. The staff performed like a well-oiled machine; they knew exactly what to do. So I was sitting by my Mother, on her bed, and she, along with several other residents beside us in the hallway, were a little restless and “fretful.” I was sitting there thinking what could I do to make things better, and then, it came to me…that memory from long ago. I began singing to my Mother “His Eye is on the Sparrow…” She calmed down immediately, as did the other residents around her. We came through the tornado warning safe and sound, just like 35 years ago.

When people ask me if I ever get scared flying, I always say, “No!” I visualize God’s hands under every plane that I fly on, carrying me safely to my destination. I truly believe those words, “…and I KNOW He watches me.” This week I am going to focus strongly on those words, have faith, and believe that He IS taking care of me, and is always there for me. Won’t you join me? Just for this week…