Snowy White Memories

I love the snow. When I was little, I can remember bundling up to go outside and play for hours. We had our old wooden sled and we would take turns going down the big hill behind the house. Sometimes we would double up. It was a blast. It felt like it took hours to get ready to go out. We would wear a pair of pajamas under our pants and 2 or 3 pairs of knee socks. We would have on our pajama top, a couple of shirts, a heavy sweatshirt and then our coat. There were always scarves and toboggans to with our ensemble. We would wear two pairs of gloves and then mom would put a pair of dad's socks over our gloves for extra dryness. As we build snowmen and forts and had snowball fights, the ice crystal would form on the socks. We would run around to the other side of the house where the old gas stove pipe came out of the living room. We would wrap our hands around it and let the warmth melt the snow off our sock "gloves" so our real gloves below would stay dry. Then we'd run back to the yard and play some more. When we would go in, we'd have to stand in the kitchen door and remove all those layers before we could go to our rooms for dry clothes. There was almost always something good waiting for us. Homemade chocolate pudding, homemade donuts rolled in cinnamon and sugar, or simply a cup of hot chocolate with marshmallow. I know and respect the dangers the snow can cause - the road problems, the school closings, burst pipes, downed power lines. But I still can't help but feel that little tug of excitement as I see the splendor of a yard covered in pristine white where no tracks have been made or the strong oaks with their limbs laden with snow. Now I am content to sit indoors and watch the beauty and enjoy the memories while I stay nice and warm.

Homemade Bread

Does anything conjure up warm memories like homemade bread baking in the oven? I haven't had homemade bread since the Big Blizzard of '93. These cold days make me long for that sweet fragrance. The house would be warm and cozy with the oven adding extra warmth. The smell of that bread was a little piece of heaven.

On days like today, I crave fresh made bread and a big pot of beef stew simmering in the oven. I'm going to go through my recipe books and find the recipe for the bread and start baking. I'll have Allen put on a stew after while. What a better way to end the day than a husband and wife sitting down to dinner with hot stew and fresh homemade bread covered in butter.

These are the moments that define our lives. These are the "little things" we should cherish everyday. For life is not always about the big stuff. It's not always the achievements or the accolades. Sometimes, the mundane is what we live for. That's where our memories are made.

Spead a little sunshine

The temperature is frigid. The wind blows right through you. You scurry along as you do your errands. Now is the time to stop and spread some sunshine. You see someone heading for the same parking space you want-let them have it. Let the lady with just 3 items go ahead of you in line at the store. Smile and open the door for a young mother with her arms snuggling a baby. Help the little lady with the walker carry her package into the post office. How many times do we, lost in our own world, walk right by someone in need. Someone who would appreciate that small act of kindness that we just don't think to show. I grew up in a small town up a country road where everybody knew their neighbor and pitched in to help when something was needed. We didn't own a car since Mom and Dad neither one drove. We would walk to the local grocery store about a mile away. I remember those cold winter days with snow 5-6" deep. Me and Daddy would walk to the store to get milk and bread. With four kids to feed, you couldn't run low on staples. We would bundle against the weather. I'd wear my heavy pj's underneath my pants as extra protection in the cold. I'd have on two - three shirts under my coat and two pairs of gloves. I'd wear a toboggan and scarf, with the scarf wrapped around my face so all you could see were two eyes and a slit for my mouth to breathe. We'd trudged through the snow in our old rubber golashes, get our groceries and start the mile trek back home. Somewhere along the way, we would sometimes hear a car slowing down. It would be one of our "neighbors" from up the hollow. They would give us a ride home. Oh the sweet relief of climbing in a warm car as opposed to trudging up the road with our packages. We didn't get salt on our road very often as it was out of city limits so not having to trudge back up the road in that snow was a ray of light in a gloomy day. I have to wonder if those kind neighbors who gave us a ride felt a small thrill of pleasure, knowing they had spread some sunshine into our life that day? So take the time to lend a helping hand because sometimes, it is the small gestures that make the largest impact in our lives.

Take my breath away...

In the end, it's not going to matter how many breaths you took, but how many moments took your breath away.- shing xiong The average respiration rate for a person at rest is about 16 breaths per minute. This means on average, we breathe about 960 breaths an hour ; 23,040 breaths a day; 8,409,600 a year. That means I have taken over 445 billion breaths in my lifetime so far. But what do they account for? To breathe is to exist. But I want more than an existence. I want to remember the lifetime of memories I stored up from my childhood that I can take out at any time and think about with fondness and love. I want to remember how it felt the first time I looked my husband in the eyes and felt that "Oh my" feeling that you get when you know he's the ONE. I want to remember when they placed my new born twins in my arms and I looked down and felt that tug on my heart strings that said, "They are mine...forever". I want to remember that thrill of the most beautiful words in the world, "Mom, how would you like to be a grandmother". Four times, I've had my breath taken away as each new born grandchild was placed in my arms for the first time. I want to remember all the "Mamaw, can I's" and the "Mamaw, I did's" and every single precious moment I get to spend with my precious grandchildren. I want to remember the first time I saw the mountains in all their grandeur and fall beauty. I want to remember the awe I felt as I looked on and thought "How can you look at this and NOT believe that God does exist. I want to remember the first trip to the beach as I stared at all that beautiful water and sand, thinking about how somewhere on the other side of all that water, another lady with her children is staring at that same water and marveling that there is a whole other world across that sea. I want to remember the soft fallen snow that came in 1993 when the blizzard dumped 23" on us and how beautiful it was. How for that one moment in time, the world stood still. I want to remember the sound of the mighty eagle as he glides over the river out back and scoops up a fish for super. I want to remember the beautiful colors in my backyard at the bird feeder. The deep emerald of the hummingbird, the brilliant red of the cardinal, the yellow in the small finches, the bright blue of the bluebird, the soft gloss of black and white on the chickadee. So you see, life is NOT about the number of breaths we take, but it truly consists of the number of moments that take our breath away. So don't just live, live for those special moments. Make each and everyone of your breaths count. Love your family, enjoy the world around you and take time to make that special moment that will live in your heart forever.

Help me, Lord

I have always had great faith in God and the infinite work he does in our lives. I have always asked for his guidance and assistance. Notice I say...assistance. I have a bad habit of asking him and then telling him how I want him to handle it. Well, recently I was overwhelmed with so much going on that I need his guidance and help in that I simply bowed down on my knees one night and said, "Dear Lord, Help me." Then I left it there, walked away from it and figured he could do better without my intereference. I had the best night sleep that night. I woked up refreshed. All the "little things" that had been adding up and keeping me wired slowly melted away through out the day as one solution after another presented itself as he took care of the items on my list. So, see he doesn't need our help at all. He just needs us to ask for his. So as we go into 2010, my prayer for you is that God will help you, too, with the little things as well as the big things that combine to overwhelm us from time to time.

The day after Christmas

Twas the day after Christmas when all through the land Things needed to be done but no one felt like lifting a hand. Should the tree come down and be put away? Or should we leave it up till New Years Day? Do we want to work hard and undecorate until all is well? Or should we go shopping for the perfect after Christmas sale? Should we go outside to walk off the extra weight? Or should we stay in and have a piece of chocolate cake? For me and mine, we'll decide later today. Should we work hard or continue to play? I'm savoring this moment and enjoying the rest. For Christmas was great and we truly were blessed.

The House Up the Hollow

It was more than a house. It was our home, our shelter, our refuge. A place of love and family so dear. A place to laugh, a place to live, and a place to love. So many memories live inside her old walls. We lived there from the time I was 9 months old. When Daddy passed away in 1999, my brother bought the house and remodeled it. We still have family get-togethers at the old home place. My brother remodeled it so it is now a two story instead of one and has cedar siding instead of white wood. But the memories are still there, trapped inside her walls for safe keeping. Every once in a while, I pull them out and remember….. I remember winter nights so cold that Mom would hang blankets over the doorways to keep the warmth of the old gas stove in the living room since there were no doors on the rooms yet. I can remember the day Jack came home from the hospital and me sitting in the old green vinyl chair holding him for the first time. I can remember when Andy was born and Mom had a cab bring us home the day he came home from the hospital. I remember when Rachel got married and I finally got our bedroom to myself. I remember the loneliness of not having her there at night. I remember Dad teaching us to play checkers. I remember drying the dishes and the special time with Mom to do it. I remember how slow I was because I didn’t want to do the work. I remember baby dolls at Christmas and Mom making our Barbie clothes. I remember homemade Easter dresses and summer pajamas. I remember sharing the big Hershey bar in Dad’s drawer. I remember Daddy having bread in coffee with cream and butter for a late night snack. I remember folding Andy’s diapers, fresh off the line. I remember crawling in bed with clean sheets, smelling like the summer sun. I remember stuffed animals lined down the middle of the bed between me and Rachel. I remember my green pajamas with a turtle on the front. I remember being outside taking pictures with Andy in his stroller and Jack being inside pulling the chest of drawers over on himself. I remember long walks to the store, the Corner Grill, the golf course and the cow pasture. I remember eating supper in cardboard boxes on Thursday nights in front of the TV. I remember learning to drive and taking Andy and Jack places. I remember walking to the library. I remember cheese sandwiches and lemonade under the shade of the oak tree. I remember Noxema on sunburns. I remember melting the snow from our gloves on the pipe of the old gas stove so we wouldn’t have to go back in. I remember homemade donuts and chocolate pudding. I remember Christmas candy being brought out a little at a time during the holiday. I remember Nehi Grape and Orange with ham sandwiches on Christmas afternoon. I remember grape Kool-Aid with lemons. I remember Lady, our beagle, having puppies on my birthday and we brought them in to keep warm in front of the old gas stove. I remember all the “Good Night, I love you’s”. I remember watching the well light so we didn’t run out of water. I remember Mom fussing about all the dust from the dirt road. I remember Easter egg hunts...over and over all week. I remember a lot of things about that old house. I remember the tile floor with all the assorted colors. I remember jumping from bed to bed in the middle room when we had the flu because Mom said not to get off the bed. I remember Daddy building me and Rachel a new room. I remember all the different paints on the walls and all the patterns of wallpapers. I remember Dad cutting holes in the wall so Mom could have shelves. I remember every tree, every hickory nut and every acorn. I remember every blade of grass and every spot of dirt in the driveway. I remember the laughter and the good times. It makes me smile as I remember those old days. It makes me sad that we can’t go back, but it makes me glad that I have my memories. The House Fresh coats of paint and a new porch or two, Rooms were added and changed as she grew. Wallpaper and carpet and furniture changed, But in our memory, she was always the same. But now we’re all grown and moved far away. Her old walls still stand, remembering the days. I wonder sometimes in the midnight so deep, Does she think of us and do her walls weep?