 |
| I love softball!! |
 |
| me and my aunt...love her! |
Don't forget, comments are always welcome! Subscribe today so you won't miss any posts.
With a smile and a happy heart,
Elle
Just sharing my busy days of caring for my two younger children, my hubby, my aging mother with dementia, and trying to maintain a close relationship with my married son and his wife, and my college aged son and his fiancee while balancing church, friends, a mountain of housework and a photography business. Whew!!!
Saturday, March 5, 2011
Random Thankfulness
On a dreary morning full of thunderstorms, I sit here at 10:30 a.m. all alone while everyone is still sound asleep. Our four day weekend is in full swing. I've had my cup of coffee and some biscuits and was just thinking of all the things I am so very thankful for and so begins my random thoughts!
Coffee, Keurig, cream (lots of flavored cream), my sweet hubby, my four children, each so different and so much a part of my life and my heart, my church and the freedom we are given to worship wherever and however we want, MUSIC, my how I love music - it moves me in ways nothing else can, dancing, friends - all shapes, sizes and personalities! I don't know what I would do without them. Cell phones, laptops, Mac's, Itunes, American Idol, I love raw, undiscovered talent, DVR, A/C, cold weather, fireplaces, brick walls (I know really random, but I love interior brick walls), iron work, landscaped yards (and no mine is not), ivy, tulips, roses, wisteria, weeping willows, oak trees, antebellum homes, clear blue water, white sandy beaches, vacations by car or plane, Colorado, photography, Nikon, unprovoked smiles, children, senior adults, teenagers (yes, I said it!), babies, pasta, seafood (especially shrimp), chocolate (OMG), nuts, movies with popcorn, basketball, soccer, softball, piano, guitar, mandolins, hand me down furniture, genealogy, my grandma, my nieces and nephews, my brothers and sisters, my aunts whom I've grown closer to as an adult, my hometown, picture frames, whimsical teapots, cooking, Food Network, new stuff for the kitchen, brightly colored rooms, hugs!, smell of a just bathed baby, puppies and dogs, swings, rockers, BBQ's, cajun dancing, surprises in the mail, pretty teeth, beautiful eyes, silly little French songs my momma taught us, sunshine and SONshine!
I'm sure there are more little thoughts floating in my brain but the kids are strolling in one at a time, so I get to play momma now.
Don't forget, comments are always welcome! Subscribe today so you won't miss any posts.
With a smile and a happy heart,
Elle
Don't forget, comments are always welcome! Subscribe today so you won't miss any posts.
With a smile and a happy heart,
Elle
Tuesday, February 22, 2011
Who Do You Think You Are?
Fourteen years ago, in the midst of raising four children, I began spending the wee hours of the morning working on genealogy for my father's side. There was a mystery person in my tree that I was dying to find more information on and so coupled with my computer and a few Bibles, I began building my family tree.
My father passed away when I was 17 and he was only 50. I never knew either of his parents or grandparents. I really don't remember hearing him tell any stories about growing up other than they called him "Red" for his hair color. I also knew he had a little sister, Betty Grace, that died when she was two as a result of cat scratch fever.
The person I was most interested in researching was my father's biological grandfather, "Grandpa Mac." I had been to the parish where he resided 14 years ago to visit the court house and get as many documents as I could on the family. Every time I ran into my grandfather's name, I hit a brick wall. It was so frustrating. All I knew was he and my great-grandmother were only married three years, he had my grandmother who was two years old and he died from an illness at 37 years old. That's all I could find. I have the drugstore bill so I know it was a lengthy illness to some extent and I found a court document that showed my great-grandmother was left with nothing after his death. Can you imagine what she must have gone through.
Well because of the show on Friday nights, "Who Do You Think You Are?" my interest has been reignited. With the convenience of my laptop, and high speed internet, and oh, my Keurig, I settled down to climb that family tree once again.
In one night - granted it took four or more hours, I was able to go back five generations! I was beyond excited. I found births and deaths and towns and marriages and occupations and oh, I was on a roll. My new friend was a website called, www.findagrave.com, (morbid, I know) and most often it shows photos of the headstones. That was invaluable. I also searched quite a bit on www.ancestry.com, but honestly, at the beginning, the grave marker site was remarkably informative!
So in regards to Grandpa Mac, I found that, yes, he did die at 37 and my great-grandmother was 15 years younger than he. So there she was at 22, a widow with a two year old. I had to sit and ponder that! Yes, I cried - just a little. I also discovered Grandpa Mac's family was large with seven children but it appeared that they might have been a puny bunch. One passed away at 2, another at 8, my great-grandfather at 37 and his brother at 41. To make matters worse, his mother, Miss Jane, was left to raise these children after a divorce from her husband who later remarried. Who needs soap operas when you can delve into your own history!
So after getting to bed late that first night, I couldn't wait to return to my tree and see what else would be discovered. I had just begun to look at census records and found them to be a perfect picture of history. Seriously, after I would read one, I would sit and close my eyes and imagine what that household must have been like. Ahhh!
The second day I was determined to find more information on Grandpa Mac. I want to know what he died from, what his occupation was, was he perhaps married prior to my great-grandmother and so on. I realized shortly after I began working, that in order to get to the meat of the documents and "evidence" I was going to have to bite the bullet and pay for a membership with ancestry.com. I only paid for a month and it was worth every penny. Within five minutes, a picture - a portrait - of Grandpa Mac popped onto my screen and I screamed with jubilation! "Well, hello there Grandpa! It is so nice to finally meet you." I stared at this precious man for an eternity. Grandpa Mac now has a face to go with the name and a very nice face at that. I looked at his eyes to see if I saw a resemblance to any of his offspring, then his nose, his bone structure, his mouth. Oh, I am loving this!
As I continued to scour the census records, I came across the 1930 census. Now let me back up a little here. My dad was raised as an only child after the death of his baby sister. In my mind, I pictured him in a quiet home with his mother, the strict school teacher and his father, the laborer in the sawmill. He probably played with neighbors but basically a quiet childhood. We often laughed at his culture shock when he married my mother who had seven siblings and were quiet the fun bunch! Then Daddy had six children of his own. Well, to my surprise, the census listed my father being one year and four months old and living with a host of family members; his mother, his father, his grandmother and grandfather (his grandmother had remarried), his uncle (who was only 11 years old and was always like a brother to him) and his great-grandmother! Wow. That changes everything. I can't imagine the love bestowed on my father and the rich culture he grew up in. I have not been able to pin down how long they lived in this situation but it plastered a smile on my face to know he had indeed lived in a large family setting and tell me, what's not to love about this precious little boy?
I continue to spend my spare time researching my family and I seem to be chasing more rabbits than I've ever chased in my life. One clue leads to another, and then another and before you know it you are six and seven generations back. I cannot wait to discover what country my ancestors hail from.
I encourage you to dive in and check out your family tree. Hey, there's even an app for that!
With a smile and a VERY happy heart,
Elle
Find A Grave link
Ancestry.com
My father passed away when I was 17 and he was only 50. I never knew either of his parents or grandparents. I really don't remember hearing him tell any stories about growing up other than they called him "Red" for his hair color. I also knew he had a little sister, Betty Grace, that died when she was two as a result of cat scratch fever.
The person I was most interested in researching was my father's biological grandfather, "Grandpa Mac." I had been to the parish where he resided 14 years ago to visit the court house and get as many documents as I could on the family. Every time I ran into my grandfather's name, I hit a brick wall. It was so frustrating. All I knew was he and my great-grandmother were only married three years, he had my grandmother who was two years old and he died from an illness at 37 years old. That's all I could find. I have the drugstore bill so I know it was a lengthy illness to some extent and I found a court document that showed my great-grandmother was left with nothing after his death. Can you imagine what she must have gone through.
Well because of the show on Friday nights, "Who Do You Think You Are?" my interest has been reignited. With the convenience of my laptop, and high speed internet, and oh, my Keurig, I settled down to climb that family tree once again.
In one night - granted it took four or more hours, I was able to go back five generations! I was beyond excited. I found births and deaths and towns and marriages and occupations and oh, I was on a roll. My new friend was a website called, www.findagrave.com, (morbid, I know) and most often it shows photos of the headstones. That was invaluable. I also searched quite a bit on www.ancestry.com, but honestly, at the beginning, the grave marker site was remarkably informative!
So in regards to Grandpa Mac, I found that, yes, he did die at 37 and my great-grandmother was 15 years younger than he. So there she was at 22, a widow with a two year old. I had to sit and ponder that! Yes, I cried - just a little. I also discovered Grandpa Mac's family was large with seven children but it appeared that they might have been a puny bunch. One passed away at 2, another at 8, my great-grandfather at 37 and his brother at 41. To make matters worse, his mother, Miss Jane, was left to raise these children after a divorce from her husband who later remarried. Who needs soap operas when you can delve into your own history!
So after getting to bed late that first night, I couldn't wait to return to my tree and see what else would be discovered. I had just begun to look at census records and found them to be a perfect picture of history. Seriously, after I would read one, I would sit and close my eyes and imagine what that household must have been like. Ahhh!
The second day I was determined to find more information on Grandpa Mac. I want to know what he died from, what his occupation was, was he perhaps married prior to my great-grandmother and so on. I realized shortly after I began working, that in order to get to the meat of the documents and "evidence" I was going to have to bite the bullet and pay for a membership with ancestry.com. I only paid for a month and it was worth every penny. Within five minutes, a picture - a portrait - of Grandpa Mac popped onto my screen and I screamed with jubilation! "Well, hello there Grandpa! It is so nice to finally meet you." I stared at this precious man for an eternity. Grandpa Mac now has a face to go with the name and a very nice face at that. I looked at his eyes to see if I saw a resemblance to any of his offspring, then his nose, his bone structure, his mouth. Oh, I am loving this!
As I continued to scour the census records, I came across the 1930 census. Now let me back up a little here. My dad was raised as an only child after the death of his baby sister. In my mind, I pictured him in a quiet home with his mother, the strict school teacher and his father, the laborer in the sawmill. He probably played with neighbors but basically a quiet childhood. We often laughed at his culture shock when he married my mother who had seven siblings and were quiet the fun bunch! Then Daddy had six children of his own. Well, to my surprise, the census listed my father being one year and four months old and living with a host of family members; his mother, his father, his grandmother and grandfather (his grandmother had remarried), his uncle (who was only 11 years old and was always like a brother to him) and his great-grandmother! Wow. That changes everything. I can't imagine the love bestowed on my father and the rich culture he grew up in. I have not been able to pin down how long they lived in this situation but it plastered a smile on my face to know he had indeed lived in a large family setting and tell me, what's not to love about this precious little boy?
I continue to spend my spare time researching my family and I seem to be chasing more rabbits than I've ever chased in my life. One clue leads to another, and then another and before you know it you are six and seven generations back. I cannot wait to discover what country my ancestors hail from.
I encourage you to dive in and check out your family tree. Hey, there's even an app for that!
With a smile and a VERY happy heart,
Elle
Find A Grave link
Ancestry.com
Thursday, February 17, 2011
Looking in the Rearview
In a matter of ten days, my oldest child, my son, my pride and joy, my hope -- that even though I am a screwed up individual at best, with lots of junk in my trunk, in spite of that, a child can turn out to be a complete and whole individual who is happy, healthy and "normal" --whatever that is. He restored my faith in my parenting skills and yet all along, I knew it was not me or my hubby, but the grace of God that helped us raise this boy into a godly young man.
He leaves hand in hand with his beautiful bride of nearly four years to pursue a new career in a new town in a new state. Do I have the tendency to dig my heels in and say, "no, please don't go,"-- you betcha I do! I want to remind him how much it is my heart's desire not unlike most mothers, to keep my precious children and their families near me and my love until death do us part.
My family consisted of six children and my mother was from a family of eight children. We were a crowd in and of ourselves but when you mixed in the relatives - oh the fun! Our childhood was rich with family get togethers with aunts, uncles, cousins, grandparents, and filled with crawfish boils, fish frys, BBQ's, Christmas parties, crabbing trips, Easter egg hunts, and lots of good cajun music to learn to jitterbug and waltz too.
My siblings have all moved away and have been gone for many years. It saddens me that my children do not have the same opportunities I had to get to know my cousins and other relatives. They all come home once or twice a year and they absolutely love each minute they are able to spend with each other, but it's just not the same. I so wanted my children and grandchildren to be a close knit unit that would share wonderful memories much like I do with my cousins. But, I do understand.
You see when I was young I wanted more than anyone or anything to graduate high school and leave my southern state and head to New York. I wanted to travel the world - but that was not my fate. My father died one month before I graduated high school. I could not find it in me to leave my mother, so I remained here. When I met my future hubby, he was an only child. As mentioned earlier, my other siblings all left town soon after we were married. As much as me and my hubby wanted to head to the northern states, our hearts would not let us. I could not ask my in-laws to part with their one and only child and I could not leave my mother all alone. So here we are 30 years later - and my children have an amazing relationship with their grands. For that, I am thankful beyond words. (Kleenex break...)
So knowing I once had those same ambitions, and knowing that we have already established a very close relationship with he and his beloved, I bid them farewell and wish them only the best! - with one hitch. (Ha ha) When they start having those grandkids, they better haul themselves back here before the sun goes down!
Good luck B & C - Momma loves you dearly. You have made me so proud. Go get 'em and make your dreams come true. When you look in the rearview mirror, I'll be smiling and waving but my heart will be sad. If you love something, let it go. If it was meant to be, it will come back. Isn't that what they say? Sniff, sniff. Now, where is that semi-truck of kleenex I ordered? Hmmmm.
With a smile and a happy heart,
Elle
He leaves hand in hand with his beautiful bride of nearly four years to pursue a new career in a new town in a new state. Do I have the tendency to dig my heels in and say, "no, please don't go,"-- you betcha I do! I want to remind him how much it is my heart's desire not unlike most mothers, to keep my precious children and their families near me and my love until death do us part.
My family consisted of six children and my mother was from a family of eight children. We were a crowd in and of ourselves but when you mixed in the relatives - oh the fun! Our childhood was rich with family get togethers with aunts, uncles, cousins, grandparents, and filled with crawfish boils, fish frys, BBQ's, Christmas parties, crabbing trips, Easter egg hunts, and lots of good cajun music to learn to jitterbug and waltz too.
My siblings have all moved away and have been gone for many years. It saddens me that my children do not have the same opportunities I had to get to know my cousins and other relatives. They all come home once or twice a year and they absolutely love each minute they are able to spend with each other, but it's just not the same. I so wanted my children and grandchildren to be a close knit unit that would share wonderful memories much like I do with my cousins. But, I do understand.
You see when I was young I wanted more than anyone or anything to graduate high school and leave my southern state and head to New York. I wanted to travel the world - but that was not my fate. My father died one month before I graduated high school. I could not find it in me to leave my mother, so I remained here. When I met my future hubby, he was an only child. As mentioned earlier, my other siblings all left town soon after we were married. As much as me and my hubby wanted to head to the northern states, our hearts would not let us. I could not ask my in-laws to part with their one and only child and I could not leave my mother all alone. So here we are 30 years later - and my children have an amazing relationship with their grands. For that, I am thankful beyond words. (Kleenex break...)
So knowing I once had those same ambitions, and knowing that we have already established a very close relationship with he and his beloved, I bid them farewell and wish them only the best! - with one hitch. (Ha ha) When they start having those grandkids, they better haul themselves back here before the sun goes down!
Good luck B & C - Momma loves you dearly. You have made me so proud. Go get 'em and make your dreams come true. When you look in the rearview mirror, I'll be smiling and waving but my heart will be sad. If you love something, let it go. If it was meant to be, it will come back. Isn't that what they say? Sniff, sniff. Now, where is that semi-truck of kleenex I ordered? Hmmmm.
With a smile and a happy heart,
Elle
Wednesday, February 9, 2011
Style in Every Size
If you have known me for any amount of time, you have been witness to my struggle and occasional victory with weight loss. Ugh, it is the hardest and most constant struggle I've ever had.
It began when I was young and I didn't get to have any hand-me-downs from my sisters because I was larger than they were. My third sister, that was only 12 months younger than I, wore a much smaller size than I did as well. One day in high school when I was walking in my sexy little knit p.e. uniform and a male classmate hollered at me from behind to ask, "what are those dimples on the back of your legs?" Enter - cellulite! Next memory was when I was riding home with the most popular girl in our class of over 500, again in our favorite p.e. uniform, and I noticed when she shifted gears in her car, her legs were so stinkin' thin! I looked at her legs and looked at mine and back and forth countless times. Enter - peer pressure!
The kicker was when my mother told me she wanted to introduce me to an engineer where she worked, as soon as I lost 15 pounds. I wonder what each of you are thinking at this point. Wondering what size I was right? Well, I'll tell you and I would honestly give anything to be that size again. I was 5' 9 1/2" and weighed 140-145. Enter - Lack of self worth!
After the birth of my first child, I began to pack on the pounds due to stress, lack of sleep from a sickly little boy and severe post partum depression. The depression is another blog post in itself. I promise it is an amazing story and I share it as often as I can. I settled in at about 65 pounds heavier than I was before pregnancy and lived contently for the next few years.
When we started planning for our second child, I wanted to start out healthier since I had gained 40 pounds with my first child. I walked a mile a day on the treadmill and cut out all sweets and dropped 100 pounds pronto! It felt so good. I only gained 25 pounds with this pregnancy so I was looking and feelin' great! My second son spent the first two weeks in NICU and was also a very sickly baby. When momma's stressed, she eats! And it's not healthy stuff, sad to say. I packed on every last one of those pounds I had lost. Back to square one complete with voices of failure shouting in my mind.
After seven years, God impressed upon us to have more children (again, another story, another day) and since I always have good intentions, I set out to lose those same dastardly pounds I had yo-yoed with the last 12 years. Without sweets, I dropped 100 pounds and with added prayer gave birth to a precious baby girl. Being kissin' cousins' to 40 years old, I was much wiser than when I delivered at 24. I only gained eight pounds during the pregnancy. My angel weighed 7' 11". Life was great. When she was seven months old, I conceived again and as you can probably tell by now, when I am stressed I turn to the pantry and plate section and console myself. I was overwhelmed with four children; I was homeschooling (go ahead and say it...another story, another day, ) and the new little one was sickly too.
Several years later, medical problems forced me to have a complete hysterectomy and with that surgery came a surprise bonus of a whopping 25 pound weight gain! It was instantaneous. I couldn't fit in the same clothes I arrived at the hospital in. All the research I had done, and I had not run across that tasty tidbit. (No pun intended.)
Warp speed to current day...I have continued to gain and lose weight, I have at least five sizes of clothes in my closet at all times, I have fought demons, dealt with past failures and lack of self-esteem. I have run to the mountain top and screamed "Hallelujah" each time I reach my goal and then on a much quieter note yell, "Oh Man, here we go again" when those pants get more difficult to button. My friends love me through thick and thin and are oh so supportive. My husband must wear rose-colored glasses because he is madly in love with me whether I'm itty bitty or big butt Bertha (no offense to any Bertha's out there).
I am blessed and I must remember my triumphs, my supportive family and friends as I once again tread those dietary waters. I will repeat what I used four years ago when I lost 80 pounds for my son's wedding: high protein diets. It works for me. With my other son preparing for his wedding in January, I need to get this horse hitched up and start on my journey.
Pray for me and feel free to share your scary scale stories too.
With a smile and a happy heart,
Elle
It began when I was young and I didn't get to have any hand-me-downs from my sisters because I was larger than they were. My third sister, that was only 12 months younger than I, wore a much smaller size than I did as well. One day in high school when I was walking in my sexy little knit p.e. uniform and a male classmate hollered at me from behind to ask, "what are those dimples on the back of your legs?" Enter - cellulite! Next memory was when I was riding home with the most popular girl in our class of over 500, again in our favorite p.e. uniform, and I noticed when she shifted gears in her car, her legs were so stinkin' thin! I looked at her legs and looked at mine and back and forth countless times. Enter - peer pressure!
The kicker was when my mother told me she wanted to introduce me to an engineer where she worked, as soon as I lost 15 pounds. I wonder what each of you are thinking at this point. Wondering what size I was right? Well, I'll tell you and I would honestly give anything to be that size again. I was 5' 9 1/2" and weighed 140-145. Enter - Lack of self worth!
After the birth of my first child, I began to pack on the pounds due to stress, lack of sleep from a sickly little boy and severe post partum depression. The depression is another blog post in itself. I promise it is an amazing story and I share it as often as I can. I settled in at about 65 pounds heavier than I was before pregnancy and lived contently for the next few years.
When we started planning for our second child, I wanted to start out healthier since I had gained 40 pounds with my first child. I walked a mile a day on the treadmill and cut out all sweets and dropped 100 pounds pronto! It felt so good. I only gained 25 pounds with this pregnancy so I was looking and feelin' great! My second son spent the first two weeks in NICU and was also a very sickly baby. When momma's stressed, she eats! And it's not healthy stuff, sad to say. I packed on every last one of those pounds I had lost. Back to square one complete with voices of failure shouting in my mind.
After seven years, God impressed upon us to have more children (again, another story, another day) and since I always have good intentions, I set out to lose those same dastardly pounds I had yo-yoed with the last 12 years. Without sweets, I dropped 100 pounds and with added prayer gave birth to a precious baby girl. Being kissin' cousins' to 40 years old, I was much wiser than when I delivered at 24. I only gained eight pounds during the pregnancy. My angel weighed 7' 11". Life was great. When she was seven months old, I conceived again and as you can probably tell by now, when I am stressed I turn to the pantry and plate section and console myself. I was overwhelmed with four children; I was homeschooling (go ahead and say it...another story, another day, ) and the new little one was sickly too.
Several years later, medical problems forced me to have a complete hysterectomy and with that surgery came a surprise bonus of a whopping 25 pound weight gain! It was instantaneous. I couldn't fit in the same clothes I arrived at the hospital in. All the research I had done, and I had not run across that tasty tidbit. (No pun intended.)
Warp speed to current day...I have continued to gain and lose weight, I have at least five sizes of clothes in my closet at all times, I have fought demons, dealt with past failures and lack of self-esteem. I have run to the mountain top and screamed "Hallelujah" each time I reach my goal and then on a much quieter note yell, "Oh Man, here we go again" when those pants get more difficult to button. My friends love me through thick and thin and are oh so supportive. My husband must wear rose-colored glasses because he is madly in love with me whether I'm itty bitty or big butt Bertha (no offense to any Bertha's out there).
I am blessed and I must remember my triumphs, my supportive family and friends as I once again tread those dietary waters. I will repeat what I used four years ago when I lost 80 pounds for my son's wedding: high protein diets. It works for me. With my other son preparing for his wedding in January, I need to get this horse hitched up and start on my journey.
Pray for me and feel free to share your scary scale stories too.
With a smile and a happy heart,
Elle
Sunday, January 23, 2011
A Visit to Granny's House
Sundays, as a child, meant church, formal lunch, and then at 4:00 p.m. (or thereabouts) a trip across town to visit my Granny. Now if you are my age and remember back in the 60's, then you know 4 o'clock meant Lawrence Welk was on TV. Granny would greet us at her door with the sound of "and a one and a two" playing in the background. My Granny loved to dance and was very smooth on her feet. She was quite musical. Although I was never lucky enough to hear her, I learned that she also played the harmonica quite well.
On those lazy afternoons, Granny would always prepare a treat for us. Anything, and I mean anything Granny cooked or baked was delicious. What amazed me more than the mouth-watering taste was the fact that Granny could not read and so all her dishes were sheer genius in my book!
Granny reserved two doors on opposite ends of her buffet for toys for her grandchildren. She and Papoo had eight children and 21 grandchildren. Most of the family still lived in the area and would visit quite often. So my sister and I sat in front of the buffet with the toy door open wide, playing with our motorcycle and pink pig while listening to Lawrence Welk on the TV and Momma and Granny visiting behind us.
As we got older, we would sneak off to Granny's bedroom, sit on her tufted chair and brush our hair with her matching hairbrush set, just like they did in the movies. At different times, her bachelor sons would live with her as well in her three bedroom home. I could peek in their rooms, but never, ever go in.
Off of the back porch, was the old washing machine. The ringer type. We would watch Granny operate that antiquated machine with ease and precision. Her children offered to buy her a new washer and dryer, but she was content with what she was accustomed to. After washing, she would carry her baskets to the line strung across the back yard.
Further back in the yard were my most favorite memories. A huge fig tree that we visited every summer and picked to our hearts content so Momma could make some fig preserves. It was a tradition. Hot, summer day, coupled with a lightweight, long sleeve shirt, long pants and headed out to Granny's to pick figs. Why the long sleeves? I understood the leaves were itchy, so it was a precaution. I don't know if that was true for everyone, but evidently it was for me. I'm so special, aren't I?
And the very back of the lot, behind the fig tree was a shed and a chicken coop next to it. I never had anything to do with the chicken coop, oh, but what was inside that shed, I had plenty to do with.
My uncle, that lived with Granny, loved to play pool. So much so, that he had purchased and placed a pool table in the shed. The older the grandkids got, they left those buffet toy doors and headed to the shed for several rounds of pool. Oh the memories!
Next to Granny's house, just a few steps away, was a Tastee Freeze ice cream shop. Not frequently, but often enough, we were treated to some ice cream there. Some time before Granny died 22 years ago, that establishment had been torn down and replaced with a popular chain of Mexican fast food. Granny's house was later rented out and ultimately sold.
Last week as I drove near there, I saw a bulldozer knocking down the walls of the drive-thru. I was shocked because it is so popular. I asked around and was told they were going to rebuild. Whew! I was relieved. However, last night, as I was taking my mom to eat after church, I was describing what she was going to see on the left. As we passed by slowly, in the dark, my mom said, "Elle, I think Granny's house is gone too." O, my heart sank! I whipped that car around as fast as I could, struggled to find her street since the landmark restaurant was no longer there, and when we drove up, it indeed had been demolished with only a two foot pile of rubble left standing. We both burst into tears. Not able to utter a word. Memories came flooding back to my mind and I just wept.
I was so thankful for Granny's house and the memories I hold dear. The love of my grandma, the music, the food, the hard work, the entertainment, the memories of my Sunday afternoons. I so want my future grandchildren to hold fond memories of me and my home long after I have passed too.
So, to the little gray house on Garrett Drive, I say farewell. After all, it was not the building or the foundation, but the woman who lived inside your walls that made it a home and forever a part of my memories.
With a smile and a happy heart,
Elle
On those lazy afternoons, Granny would always prepare a treat for us. Anything, and I mean anything Granny cooked or baked was delicious. What amazed me more than the mouth-watering taste was the fact that Granny could not read and so all her dishes were sheer genius in my book!
Granny reserved two doors on opposite ends of her buffet for toys for her grandchildren. She and Papoo had eight children and 21 grandchildren. Most of the family still lived in the area and would visit quite often. So my sister and I sat in front of the buffet with the toy door open wide, playing with our motorcycle and pink pig while listening to Lawrence Welk on the TV and Momma and Granny visiting behind us.
As we got older, we would sneak off to Granny's bedroom, sit on her tufted chair and brush our hair with her matching hairbrush set, just like they did in the movies. At different times, her bachelor sons would live with her as well in her three bedroom home. I could peek in their rooms, but never, ever go in.
Off of the back porch, was the old washing machine. The ringer type. We would watch Granny operate that antiquated machine with ease and precision. Her children offered to buy her a new washer and dryer, but she was content with what she was accustomed to. After washing, she would carry her baskets to the line strung across the back yard.
Further back in the yard were my most favorite memories. A huge fig tree that we visited every summer and picked to our hearts content so Momma could make some fig preserves. It was a tradition. Hot, summer day, coupled with a lightweight, long sleeve shirt, long pants and headed out to Granny's to pick figs. Why the long sleeves? I understood the leaves were itchy, so it was a precaution. I don't know if that was true for everyone, but evidently it was for me. I'm so special, aren't I?
And the very back of the lot, behind the fig tree was a shed and a chicken coop next to it. I never had anything to do with the chicken coop, oh, but what was inside that shed, I had plenty to do with.
My uncle, that lived with Granny, loved to play pool. So much so, that he had purchased and placed a pool table in the shed. The older the grandkids got, they left those buffet toy doors and headed to the shed for several rounds of pool. Oh the memories!
Next to Granny's house, just a few steps away, was a Tastee Freeze ice cream shop. Not frequently, but often enough, we were treated to some ice cream there. Some time before Granny died 22 years ago, that establishment had been torn down and replaced with a popular chain of Mexican fast food. Granny's house was later rented out and ultimately sold.
Last week as I drove near there, I saw a bulldozer knocking down the walls of the drive-thru. I was shocked because it is so popular. I asked around and was told they were going to rebuild. Whew! I was relieved. However, last night, as I was taking my mom to eat after church, I was describing what she was going to see on the left. As we passed by slowly, in the dark, my mom said, "Elle, I think Granny's house is gone too." O, my heart sank! I whipped that car around as fast as I could, struggled to find her street since the landmark restaurant was no longer there, and when we drove up, it indeed had been demolished with only a two foot pile of rubble left standing. We both burst into tears. Not able to utter a word. Memories came flooding back to my mind and I just wept.
I was so thankful for Granny's house and the memories I hold dear. The love of my grandma, the music, the food, the hard work, the entertainment, the memories of my Sunday afternoons. I so want my future grandchildren to hold fond memories of me and my home long after I have passed too.
So, to the little gray house on Garrett Drive, I say farewell. After all, it was not the building or the foundation, but the woman who lived inside your walls that made it a home and forever a part of my memories.
With a smile and a happy heart,
Elle
Thursday, January 20, 2011
A Moving Service
Last night, our youth group entered quietly into the youth room with instructions to turn off phones, be seated and be quiet. After receiving instructions from our youth pastor, they began making their way to one of five stations. I was positioned at the "play-doh" station. Students approached the table, read the sheet with directions and proceeded to start shaping the play-doh. The directions reminded them that sometimes we let things or people or attitudes come before our relationship with God and in turn they can become our idols. They were asked to use the play-doh to make a model of what it is that is an idol to them that they put before God. Think about it...what would you have molded?
I don't claim to have seen every mold, but I did repeatedly see three things...cell phones, sports, and stick figures of people, i.e. boyfriends, girlfriends or just friends. I was so proud of these young men and women for taking this seriously and searching their souls before they began stretching and squeezing their clay. When they finished with their creations, they smashed the model and placed it back in the can.
Other stations that I found especially moving were the one where you wrote down anything you needed to confess and then shredded it! No fireplace required:) Another one said to write on a dry erase board something you need forgiveness for or someone you need to forgive. Then they used their hands and erased it, just like our loving Father does!
The last station each student went to after completing the other five stations, was at the foot of a wooden cross. They were asked to write on a slip of paper a burden they have that they want to leave at the cross and let God handle it for them. They were given a piece of tape and taped that burden onto the cross. It was quite moving and I was, no surprise here, reduced to tears.
Now you and I both know we don't need to be in a youth group to have this kind of special reflecting time with God. I encourage you today to go through these steps and see if there are idols in your life, see if you need to confess to our Father something you've been holding back, to forgive someone or be forgiven and lastly to lay your burdens at the feet of Jesus.
Let me hear from you. I know God is going to doing something wonderful!
With a smile and a happy heart,
Elle
I don't claim to have seen every mold, but I did repeatedly see three things...cell phones, sports, and stick figures of people, i.e. boyfriends, girlfriends or just friends. I was so proud of these young men and women for taking this seriously and searching their souls before they began stretching and squeezing their clay. When they finished with their creations, they smashed the model and placed it back in the can.
Other stations that I found especially moving were the one where you wrote down anything you needed to confess and then shredded it! No fireplace required:) Another one said to write on a dry erase board something you need forgiveness for or someone you need to forgive. Then they used their hands and erased it, just like our loving Father does!
The last station each student went to after completing the other five stations, was at the foot of a wooden cross. They were asked to write on a slip of paper a burden they have that they want to leave at the cross and let God handle it for them. They were given a piece of tape and taped that burden onto the cross. It was quite moving and I was, no surprise here, reduced to tears.
Let me hear from you. I know God is going to doing something wonderful!
With a smile and a happy heart,
Elle
Tuesday, January 18, 2011
Out of the mouths of ...pre-teens!
This should put a smile on your face. My 13-year-old daughter came home from school and was complaining about how sore she was from the "conditioning" exercises they were forced to do in P.E. She said one particular movement was called herpes! Now, talk about get your mother's attention! My head spun so quickly it nearly fell off and I watched as she demonstrated the movements. I am scratching my head and asking repeatedly, "Are you sure it's called herpes?" Yes, yes, yes. The answer always the same until her sister walked in and began demonstrating the movement. I asked her what it was called and she said, "burpees." Whew! I can't tell you how relieved I was to hear that. I then had to explain what "herpes" actually was and I thought their eyes were going to fall out of their sockets. Oh, I love innocence.
With never a lack of entertainment with my family, yesterday, as we were eating at Olive Garden with my mother, the conversation somehow came around to the term, "waist." My 12-year-old daughter asked where that was located?! I said, "Excuse me, you are a banner roll student, and you don't know where your waist is?" We laughed, of course, but truly I was stunned - even beyond stunned! Then, it dawned on me. This generation doesn't wear anything within 6 inches of their waist so it's no wonder they didn't know where it was! Is that an excuse? Nah! I can guarantee, we had Anatomy 101 when we got home and then we had a belly fully of laughs.
With a smile and a happy heart,
Elle
With never a lack of entertainment with my family, yesterday, as we were eating at Olive Garden with my mother, the conversation somehow came around to the term, "waist." My 12-year-old daughter asked where that was located?! I said, "Excuse me, you are a banner roll student, and you don't know where your waist is?" We laughed, of course, but truly I was stunned - even beyond stunned! Then, it dawned on me. This generation doesn't wear anything within 6 inches of their waist so it's no wonder they didn't know where it was! Is that an excuse? Nah! I can guarantee, we had Anatomy 101 when we got home and then we had a belly fully of laughs.
With a smile and a happy heart,
Elle
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)