Why grandchildren are so cute

Have you ever looked at your grandchildren and thought, "Oh, I just have the cutest grandbabies in the world." I think that every time I look at mine. You can see their Daddy's eyes, their Mommy's smiles. Certain ways they look at you, you will even see distinct features of your own grandparents. I was contemplating the fact that my children gave me some pretty cute grandkids to love. Then it dawned on me, what did I expect. I had adorable children. As our kids grow up they become beautiful women or handsome men. So when we look at their adult faces, we tend to forget that they, too, were once beautiful little babies and toddlers who made our days shine. I want to share some pictures of my twins when they were little. Looking at these pictures makes it easy to see why I think my grandbabies are so cute.

You CAN go home

Whoever said "You can't go home." was so wrong. Home is not a place. It's your family. It's the love you share. It's the place where you are accepted for what you are and how you look. It's no make-up and comfy clothes. It's flip flops and pony tails. It's pizza night and shopping sprees. It's the pride of driving down those old winding roads and through the small town and seeing that there has been progress, but that some things are still the same. It's seeing people taking walks and riding their bikes around the same streets you traveled as a kid. It's taking a walk again and seeing your Aunt Dee Dee and Aunt Frances in the yard. It's showing off your grandchildren to people you grew up with.

It's swinging on Mamaw's porch swing. It's little boys playing games and little girls going to the little girls room in groups. It's a toddlers first taste of Gino's Pizza.

It's the love and compassion of being within the family fold. It's the reliving of memories of all the times before. It's seeing your nieces and nephews and watching how their kids are growing. It's the laughter of spending three hours trying to find a ring tone only to have your nephew-in-law come by and do it in 5 minutes. It's missing your turn on a road you've driven for years simply because you were too busy laughing and talking. It's watching the great nieces and nephews playing with your grandkids the same way that your kids played with their cousins. It's a peace and contentment that cannot be found anywhere else in the world. It's putting your worries aside for a few days and simply enjoying life. So can you go home again? Yes, you can as long as the people you love are there with you.

I had the best trip and got to see the entire family except my brother and one of his daughters who are both at the beach and one of my nieces who lives in another town and couldn't come in.

I've laughed until my sides hurt. I've eaten until I was about to pop. I've gotten up early and stayed up late. I am past exhausted, but I am so extremely blessed that we had a wonderful time.

Coal Mining Memories

The above picture is my Grandpa & Grandma Garretson in 1935. They were from a little town called Brushton, WV. They were a coal mining family. They are with four of their 10 children in this picture. The littlest one is a grandson. The teenage boy is my Daddy.

Grandma Mary Garretson, Grandpa Coy (Poppy) Garretson, and my aunt Stella Garretson.

My uncle Sebert. He was 16 years old in this picture. He died in the mines when he was still a young man, leaving behind a wife and small daughters.

My heart goes out to the families of the WV Coal Mine disaster this week. My family has worked in the mines for generations in Boone County, WV. That is about 27 miles northwest of the mine in Raleigh County that suffered the explosion.

My Grandpa Garretson (Poppy) and my Uncle Sebert worked in the mines. Daddy worked in them awhile but did not like it. When he got older, he worked for the C & O Railroad which hauled the coal out of the mines. My Uncle Kenneth hauled coal out in a big coal truck. My husband even worked for a machine company that repaired equipment for the mines. He used to go down into the mines and repair the equipment on site. I thank God daily that he no longer does that.

I have always felt a deep respect for miners and the work they do. To a miner, it is more than a job. It is a way of life. They understand the dangers, they know the risks. Yet, they do it day in and day out because their fathers and grandfathers worked in the mines. In some cases, it is the only way of life they know.

My father, my grandparents, my uncles and aunts have all passed on. But I remember visiting Grandma Garretson and seeing all the mining towns. My Uncle Kenneth would wash his coal truck on Friday's and then take us on rides around town in the back of it after dark. I dedicate my blog to the miners who have lost their lives and to the families that will miss them. Let's keep them all in our prayers.

I don't believe I'd a told that....

Lewis Grizzard once did a presentation called "I don't believe I'd a told that. How many times in your life do you hear someone giving you a blow by blow detailed accountant of something they experienced or did and you think "I can't believe they just said that." One of the best examples is when you pass someone in the store that you barely know and politely say "Hey, how have you been?" Then they proceed to tell you EXACTLY how they have been. They will go on an on about their neighbors' kids, their family, their co-workers, their health ... anything they can find to complain about. I'm okay with hearing how you are doing when we are friends or family. But for somebody I barely know to tell me every little detail of thier life, ARRGGHH. A simple "Fine, how about you?" would suffice. I was at the store today and a lady put her groceries on the counter to be rung up. I was waiting on my bagger to get finished. The clerk had been greeting everybody in line the same way. She would say "Good morning, how are you doing?" Well she said it to the lady behind me and the lady responded heatedly "Well, I'm just X#$@ing #%@*#ing. I will not repeat what those words were. I was so offended. I thought, "Why in the world would you ever answer ANYBODY with those words, much less somebody who is just making conversations in the grocery line. I definitely could not believe my ears. It did make me stop and be thankful that my life, while not perfect, is so great to me that it would never enter my mind to answer a simple "How are you doing" question with offensive language. You just have to whisper a prayer and go on.

Spring Break

As a child, we look forward to spring break. A week out of school is sheer bliss. When we were growing up, spring break was a time to re-hide the Easter eggs. We would hide and hunt eggs all week long. We never tired of it. It would keep us busy for hours. When I grew up, spring break was a time to spend with friends. A time to get a taste of what our summer would be like. When I got married and had children, spring break was a time for them to the spend every day at their mamaw's while I worked. I would take them there on my way to work and pick them up at the end of the day. They would go places on the "town" bus. They would play and run the hills, re-hiding their Easter eggs much as I did when I was little. I would have to work while they got to have a wonderful, fun week. As they grew up and got married, spring break became a time when most of my co-workers would take vacations to be home with their children. Many of them would leave town for trips. When I would be in customer service or sales, it would be a slow week because most of my clients had kids and would be on spring break vacation themselves. Now that I have grandchildren and own my own business, spring break is fun again. I get to be the one to take off if I want and spend time with my grandchildren. I get to take them on vacations and do special things with them. Most of my clients still take off this week so it is a perfect time for me to have some family time. I just love spring break.

I Know My Redeemer Lives

Who taught the sun where to stand in the morning?

Who told the ocean, "You can only come this far"?

And who showed the moon where to hide till evening?

Whose words alone can catch a falling star?

The very same God that spins things in orbit,

Runs to the weary, the worn and the weak.

And the same gentle hands that hold me when I'm broken,

They conquered death to bring me victory.

Well, I know my redeemer lives. I know my redeemer lives.

All of creation testifies. This life within my cries I know my redeemer lives.

By Nicole C. Mullen

Pete & Gladys

We live on the French Broad River. For the past 10 or 11 years, we have seen many geese and ducks on our banks of the river. Over the years, we have had frequent visitors that we can recognize by distinctive markings.

For about 8 years now, there is one very distinctive couple that arrives every April like clockwork. I named them Pete and Gladys (after a favorite sitcom of mine in the early 60's).

Pete and Gladys come back every year and spend most of their time from early spring till late fall in my yard. They will float up and down the river. Then they waddle out at the old boat ramp by my house and walk up the road to cross into the backyard. Once there, they generally like to lay in the soft grass up around our patio. This picture was taken about 2 foot off the patio a couple of days ago.

Sometimes we see as many as 50 or 60 ducks and Canadian geese down the yard closer to the river, but Pete and Gladys are the only ones that venture so close to the house. Everywhere Pete goes, Gladys follows. She never gets up and leaves without him. If they are taking a walk, he sticks right beside her. If another gentleman mallard approaches Gladys, Pete runs and flaps his wings and chases him off.

It is so adorable. When she is laying to rest, many times he will stand guard over her. He stands perfectly still and doesn't blink or move a muscle. I spend about 15 minutes sitting there watching them while I took several pictures the other night. Even when I snapped and the flash went off and the camera whirred, he just stood there.

He is like one of the guards at the Buckingham Palace. Which is kind of unique because Mallard is an old English name. It means "keeper of the mill". The word keeper means:

a. An attendant or a guard b. One that has the charge or care of something So, Mr. Pete "Mallard" takes the meaning of his name seriously and guards the misses with his life.