Christmas Momories

     I really enjoy watching the Hallmark Christmas in July programs.  The time between Thanksgiving and Christmas is my favorite time of the year, and I do not mind an extra two weeks of this glorious time brought to me in the summer.  Several of my friends do not care for this dip into Christmas, but I find it heart warming.  These programs bring heartwarming memories...

     I remember 2 distinct Christmases from my childhood.  When I was four, my brother Tony woke me up saying, "Get up Annie.  I am going to prove there is no Santa Claus." Rubbing my eyes I followed him to the top of the stairs and looked over the banister.  Below, I could see my mom decorating the tree.  In our family, at that time, it was tradition for Santa to trim the tree when he visited on Christmas Eve.  Not quite sure what I was seeing, I found myself being dragged to my mother's closet.  Inside there were bags and boxes full of toys.  I could not believe what he was showing me.  How could this be?  I went back to bed broken hearted.  Christmas had lost its charm...

     The next morning, the tree was fully decorated and the floor was laden with gifts and placed all around the beautiful tree.  I received twelve dolls, two dish sets, and a table and chairs set.  I had seven aunts and uncles who were very giving.  I have to admit that I was not very joyful for a four year old on Christmas morning.  After breakfast, I donned my snowsuit and went to visit others in the projects.  What I saw in many of the homes was more painful than knowing Santa was not real.  Far too many families had no gifts at all, nor fixings for a Christmas dinner.  A taste of reality...

     I headed home to gather up ten dolls and one of the dish sets, to then go back out and distribute them to those without.  That was the most gratifying part of that day!

     While we were in Abbeville, LA, waiting to go to Germany, we were living in a small apartment attached to one of the large plantation type homes there.  All of our household goods had already been shipped, so we did not have decorations for a tree.  But, being the innovative individuals we were, we got a branch from a tree on the property, put it in a milk bottle, made decorations, and trimmed that "tree."   We had so much fun!  That night I did everything I could to convince my little brother that there is a Santa.  "Listen Richard, I hear Santa's sleigh bells.  We need to get to sleep!"  He was so excited the next morning!!!

     Another non-exciting Christmas was when I was ten.  We were  in Vogelwah , Germany, and my mother had the tree up several weeks prior Christmas day.  My step-father liked them up early.  However, once a gift was placed beneath the tree, neither Richard nor I could go into the living room.  Not good!  But, the gifts were not wrapped, so we waited.  Well, we almost waited.  When the door was open, we could see inside. Low and behold, beneath that beautiful tree was the ugliest coat I had ever seen.  I knew it was for me and got sick.  It was so ugly!

     Christmases took a turn for me, once I had Claudette.   Claudette's first Christmas was full of laughter and surprises.  My brother was home from college and staying with us, and Uncle Jerry was visiting his mother, so he, too, was close by.  Richard came home, after being out for awhile, with a black eye.  He had gotten into a fight with someone at Clyde's Drive Inn.   Young men, being young men just home from college, were prone to do so.  Anyway, once a couple of punches were thrown, they became friends.  Weird, right???

     Jerry came by the house Christmas day.  He brought me an armadillo purse and a doll for his niece. However, Claudette was more interested in the purse than she was the doll. I carried that purse for years.  It was actually made from the outer armor of  a real armadillo.  Definitely, a conversation starter.

     Christmases after that were filled with kids, laughter, and memories. I did my best to surprise each one of my seven wonders of the world.  I wasn't always able to do so, and I know there were disappointments, and for that I am truly sorry.  But, there was a lot of laughter and even good memories over the years.  The last tree Johnny helped pick out and bring home in his brown pickup
had a nickname, Charli.  I usually buy a 6-7 foot tree that is full.  Well, this one was
about 4 1/2 feet tall, but it was the fullest we had ever owned.  The kids all loved it!

     Christmases after that one in 1985 changed.  Oh, we enjoyed the tree and Christmas fun, but a very important member of the family was missing.

     There were many changes in the family, but Christmas still held a special place in my heart.  I think it is connected to the realization that  our Lord was born at that time, and life without HIM has no meaning.  People are just friendlier during this time, and the presence of God can be felt.

     1997 brought another tremendous heartbreak.  Booger went home in November that year.  I bought a tree, but could not decorate it.  I gave that tree to Mrs. Bates to give to someone she knew had no tree, and David and I went to Alaska.  We flew out Christmas Day and spent a week.  We enjoyed the walks to town through the snow, seeing moose, and sleeping with the window open!
We enjoyed the time we spent there.

      Christmas still brings joy to the heart of this old lady.  The anticipation I feel after Thanksgiving
could be related to the anticipation the shepherds felt after the visit by the angel.  Now, that is a nice thought!

      Bob and I recorded a few of the Christmas in July shows, and will continue to watch them until the new Christmas shows start.  I hope this statement does not offend, but I truly hope you have a Merry Christmas!
 

   

Happy Birthday Baby Girl

     It seems like just recently that I was hanging out with my mother and expecting you.  We were just talking and laughing about various things, and dad was sitting there, not really paying attention to us.  Grandma asked if I was having any pains, and I laughed and said no.  Awhile later she asked again, and my reply was the same.  You were not due for about another month, so I was not expecting her questions.  This kept on for  quite some time, and I was wondering why she had these questions.  Finally, she told your dad that he should take me to the hospital.  What????  I was not in any pain! Finally, she wore us both down, and we headed to Valley Baptist.  I was wearing a  beige maternity skirt and top and had on heels.  The nurses were really surprised with me walking down the hallway with heels on.  😊😊  I think I wore heels every time I went to the hospital...

     Once we got there,and I was examined, sure enough I was in labor.  Later, when I asked grandma how she knew, she said I could see the contractions.  I never felt them!  I was in a bed waiting for Dr. Rodriquez, and heard him rushing down the hallway saying where is Mrs. Haynes, am I in time.  As he passed my doorway, he glanced in and said, "Whew, I was afraid I would be too late."  I am lying there thinking, but there is no pain.

     At that point, I was taken into the delivery room.  When Dr. Rodriquez came  in he was really up tight.  He asked me how I was feeling and why I had waited so long.  My response, again, was I had no pain.  He could not believe it.

     Long story shortened, you were born about 30 minutes after we arrived at the hospital.  You were amazing.  You were laid on my chest for just a few minutes, and then whisked off to the nursery.  Being about five or six weeks early, I think they wanted to check you out.

     Once I was in my room, a nurse came in and told me you were fine, but a little on the small side.  It never dawned on me that there could be a problem with this, because you were perfect.  I slept that night and the next morning the nurse brought you into me.  She placed you in my arms, and I was hooked!  You were content to just be there.  You never cried or whimpered.  So, so peaceful.

     They brought you into my room a couple times that day and once the next morning.  The doctor came in and I was released, but you would have to stay because your weight had dropped  below five pounds.  I had to leave my baby girl in the hospital for eleven days.  Dad and I would visit and look at you through the window, being told how well you were doing, but being able to hold you.

     After eleven days, we were told you were weighing over five pounds, so you could go home!  We wrapped you up and home we went!  Up to this time, we had never heard you cry or whimper.  My mother said, "Well, you will hear her now."  You were home 2 weeks before you ever cried!  Scared me nearly to death!  I was so afraid I had done something wrong.  I started crying...

     You were never one to cry much.  During the night I would hear you squirming, I would change your diaper and fix your bottle.  During the day I would hold you a lot.  Guess you had no reason to cry!!!  I went back to work when you were about six months old.  One evening, you began to cry some, so we took you for a ride.  Worked like a charm!  So, we started putting you into the stroller, and dad would push it with his foot when you got fussy.  During the time dad was not at home, I would do it.  You loved it!!!

     You loved people!  Your cute little smile would bring many to your side.  You just naturally expected people to be kind and respond to your smile.  But, one day, after moving to Brownsville, the postman was on the steps putting mail in the mailbox and you smiled up at him and said "Hi."  He never said a word, and the look on your face, broke my heart...

     Remember Link?  The bratty boy who would pull your hair.  So many memories of you growing up.  Learning to ride your first bicycle.   Having "coffee" with grandma Ila.  Spending time with grandma Elsie and Aunt Annie.  Being a big sister to Jamie.  Asking why the baby cried?  Being my big helper.  Sitting on your bed as a senior saying, "I can't do this any more."  When I asked what was wrong you said, "I just can't make all these A's."  To which I said, "Then don't."  Or the time I gave you the note to read on the bus.  LOL  Or your one and only trip to the emergency room!!!  So much, in such a short period of time!

     Where have the years gone?  Time never stood still.  Here you are grown with two marvelous children of your own and a grandson on the way.  Guess I have blinked once too often.  Never doubt  you are loved and always have been.  In  fact,  I love you MORE!!!

   

Happy Birthday Baby Girl

Musings : Relaxing Sunday

Musings : Relaxing Sunday:      I have been sitting here at the kitchen table with the back door open and watching a squirrel as it eats from the bird feeder sitting o...

Relaxing Sunday

     I have been sitting here at the kitchen table with the back door open and watching a squirrel as it eats from the bird feeder sitting on the small table on the deck.  I have almost laughed out loud as he stands upright and places one tiny  hand/paw on the back of the feeder, as he surveys his surroundings.  The feeder resembles a porch swing but, due to the ropes breaking last fall, it is sitting flat on the table.  I know John Dove would not approve and neither would Wes Griffin but, next to doves, these critters are my favorites.

     As it raises up to survey the goings on around him, it resembles an older man standing on his front porch watching as neighbors interact with one another, looking in one direction and then another.  This reminds me of time spent in Rio Hondo as a kid.  Summer would find us kids out goofing off and unaware that there were adults keeping an eye on us,  especially Richard, Robert, Larry, John, Finley, and a few others!  Notice I did not mention any girls' names.  We were usually inside helping momma!  LOL  I remember one evening when we lived on the corner of Catherine and Williams Rd.  We were playing Red Rover in front of  Jimmy Monroe's house.   Funny how these memories pop up.  We were just a bunch of silly, alright crazy kids enjoying life.  Little did we realize that there were adults watching over us.

    This brings to mind another gentleman that definitely watched over us.  He was the constable, Mr. Mills.  He and his wife were both great people!  Richard loves telling the story of his senior year, when he had his old red Studebaker.  He would be heading into town, speeding of course, and as he crossed the railroad track, Mr. Mills would pull out of his "hiding place" on the side of Brotzman's,  and pull in behind that speeding Studebaker.  Richard would keep going, never slowing, until he reached Rachel's.  He would run inside and order two cups of coffee.  When Mr. Mills entered he would sit down, take one of the cups and say, "One of these days, Richard, I'm going to catch you."
He told my mother during my senior year, that I had become a beautiful young lady.  His words meant a  lot to this quiet and hurting senior.

     I used to love skating.  I went every chance I got, which usually meant every Wednesday, Friday, and Saturday night.  Sometimes Ruby Dell and I would ride the bus to San Benito, and other times Mr. Parker would drive us.  When my older brothers moved to Rio Hondo, one of them would drive us.  I loved skating and became quite good at it.  Maybe it was because on the rink, I was able to "fly" and leave the pain of school behind.  On the rink, I was my own person and did not care what others thought...

     Mom used to work for Ma Jones as a cook in her café.  She was a great cook.  Prior to that she worked at the Round Up Café, across the tracks, as a waitress.  She told me the story of a man who had come in for a cup of coffee.  He was a regular and folks called him blacky. He was a dark Hispanic and thought nothing of the nickname given him.  Anyway, on this day he left without paying his 10 cents, but no one thought anything about it.  They would catch him next time.  Well, about three hours later he returned to pay the dime. He had walked several miles home, near Heath's Corner, before he realized he had not paid for his coffee, so he walked back to do so.  People were definitely more responsible back then.

    There are so many flashes of those days going through my mind.  Like the day my brother David rolled Tony's black Mercury convertible on the big curve outside of town. When the news hit town, Benny Mac took Tony to the scene, and he picked the car up, so David could crawl out. (our family super man)  David was not seriously injured, but definitely shaken up.  This was before seat belts!  Tony was viewed as a hero.  Life in a small town, gotta love it!!!

     Just think, all these musings began with this old lady watching a squirrel eating from a bird feeder.
These little critters can not be all bad.  Right John?????

What Are We Doing

   While seeing the film, “Paul, the Apostle,” I began to pray and ask the Lord what he wanted me to do.  I was so heart broken by the events of his life and the lives of the Christians during the time of Nero, that I questioned in my own mind “What are we doing?”  Today, what are we Christians doing?  As I stopped at the restroom, while leaving the theatre, I spoke to a very nice woman, as we were washing and drying our hands, and asked her the same question, “What are we, today’s Christians, doing?  Are we willing to risk everything, including our lives, to live out our faith?” She appeared to be as concerned as I.  As it turned out, she and her husband are in ministry to those in a nursing home.  I later met him, too. 

     What I have noticed in our world today is a lot of back-biting, criticizing, and watered-down messages, in far too many of our churches.  Who cares what the numbers are or how magnificent the building, if the message preached waters down the gospel and the Bible becomes a ‘nice book to have around?’  Are we teaching the full text, or do we stop at Jesus loves you?  What happens when troubles come?  Persecution?  Do we teach so that members can search scripture to answer questions that inevitably come?  Do we allow others to find the Lord and cling to Him in a way not like our own?  How do we stack up against the early Christians?   

     Sitting here trying to get my thoughts in order, I am amazed that the Lord loves me at all.  I have failed Him so often.  I am so very grateful that each time He brings me up short, He shows me mercy.  I, too, lay claim to be the greatest sinner of all time.  How often I have failed and sinned against the One who saved me by His grace, only to be allowed, once more, to come into His presence.  So, again the question, “What am I doing?”  How do I repay this magnificent gift?  How do I share with others all that He means to me?  Witness?  Exactly what is witnessing?  Be salt and light?  What does this mean, specifically?  How do I help hurting people, like those in Syria, and Christians in the middle east?  How do I help hurting people here in this country?  This state?  This county?  This city?  My family?  My church family?  How do I show Christ to this hurting world? 

     I bulk at “going out witnessing.”  Not sure why this troubles me, exactly.  Does knocking on doors and sharing the gospel constitute witnessing?  Does approaching strangers on the street or in a mall constitute witnessing?  Is this what the Lord did?  Did He not draw men to Himself?  How did He do that?  Doing good? 

     What about being the salt and light?  How can we be sprinkled out and shown abroad?  How do we make things tastier and brighter?  Don’t we have to ‘dig in’ and mix with those around us and allow Christ to shine through us?  Now, that sounds good, right?  But, exactly how is this done?  If I recall correctly, our Christ was often seen with sinners, and I do not recall Him ever condemning them. 

     A thought/a memory just emerged.  I searched for years, nearly thirty, before I came face to face, so to speak, with our risen Lord.  I searched many churches but did not find Him.  And, then one day, a knock sounded on my door.  My children were invited to ride a bus to Sunday School, and I agreed.  My children were the ones who invited me to join them, eventually.  Is this how the Lord drew me to Himself?

     I had visited several different churches over the 30 years of my life, not knowing for what I was looking, but knew I was not finding it.  I never felt welcomed.  Never!  When my first son was born and died within the first 12 hours, I knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that I could not ask a Catholic priest to do his service because they believed he was not going into the presence of God.  I knew he was.  I still had not had a personal experience with the living God, but I knew He was loving.  How did I know this?  Why was I so sure of His love for my son?  Where did I get that strong belief?  I didn’t even know how to pray.  All I had for myself were yearnings for this God that I knew existed.

     Another memory:  I attended my friend Wanda’s baptism, at her request, after graduation.  As the minister was baptizing her, I saw a bright light… I was drawn to near tears.  After talking with her, she had not seen the light.  Was I seeing things?

     I have been reading the book “The Way Back” by Paul Cooke and Jonathan Bock.  There is a statement in the book that has me asking more questions.  “To surrender is our heart admitting our weakness.  To accept is our ego demanding the illusion of still being in charge.”  Their premise is to accept the Lord is similar to signing for a FedEx package, whereas, to surrender to the living Lord is to devote ourselves to His cause.  Surrender is an all-encompassing word.  Do we (I) fully surrender our lives to Him?  If so, Does He have full control?  Are we holding something back?  How do we know when we are fully surrendered?  Have modern Christians watered down the gospel?  Are baby Christians suffering because of this possibility?  Are they left lacking knowledge?  What part do we play in bringing the needy to Jesus?  How do we do this?  Are we really, truly involved in this great commission? How do we partake?  What is my part?  Your part?

     When we are shut within the walls of our church, are we really reaching the world?  As we sit in the chairs or pews and listen as our minister teaches, are we reaching out?  I cannot help but remember the years I spent looking for a “place” to fit in, and the silence from members I received.  Names are important!  A hand shake is nice, but names are important.  Two or three minutes of “turn around and find someone you don’t know” does not allow for learning names.  Looking into the eyes of an individual and truly welcoming him or her is vital.  How often do we see someone in the foyer or hallway and, in passing, say “How are You?” never stopping to hear the answer.  Are we sincere?  Did our Lord ever meet someone in “passing” and continue without connecting?  What are we doing?  Why do we live life in such a rush?

     How many times have we heard, “People do not care about what you know, until they know how much you care?”  What are we teaching those coming into the ‘fold’ when we separate into groups:  the haves, the have nots; young people and old people; new Christians and seasoned Christians; minister’s inner circle, those on the outside?  Are

we not all in the body of Christ? 

     Earlier today I heard an excerpt of the message the minister of the Royal Wedding gave.  A message heard by millions!    “Love is the answer for all that ails our world: poverty, hunger, homelessness, anger, war, misunderstandings…”  So, are we, the church, loving as Christ loved.  Do we fill our hearts, days, actions, and thoughts with love, both individually and as the body of Christ?

     Because we are human, we are prone to messing up, but do we too often use the “I’m only human” excuse to brush over our lack of love and involvement?   Or, is it our busyness that might keep us from loving and ministry?

     I will never forget my first pastor, Brother Samuelson.  He was the most loving and giving pastor I have ever had.  The year my mother was ill with terminal cancer, he and his family did not take their usual Christmas trip.  I later discovered he did not want to be out of town should I need him.  That is really what one might say is the love of Christ expressed.  How many of us, today, would love like this?  That was over forty years ago, and I have not seen nor heard of another like him.

     In 1986, when my oldest living son died when he lost control of the jeep he was driving, and it rolled over on him, my pastor at that time stood on my front porch and told me he did not believe Johnny would be in heaven because Johnny had left his church to attend another.  Now, that was despicable!  So was my answer to him, “Brother Tanner, if Johnny did not make heaven, neither you nor I stand a snowball’s chance in hell.”  Was that loving as Christ loved?  Again, what are we doing? 

     Again, in 1997, when my eighteen old son Booger was killed in an automobile accident, I called the church I was attending, and at which I volunteered, and never received a call back.  I was not the only member of my family to call for the pastor, but we never received a call.  I had to ask the pastor of a church in our small community if we might use his church for Booger’s service.  He was so kind and allowed my request.  I called a Pastor friend from Houston and asked him to preach Booger’s service.  But, again, what are we doing?  In either of these painful situations, where was the love of Christ?  To be honest, my family and I saw it in the lives of those within our community.  They loved on us and walked with us through our grief.  That was where we saw the love of Christ on display… not in those of our church family.   Why are we Christians failing in our expression of HIS love?

     I have been idle for many days.  That is definitely my fault.  The very loving and giving minister of my hometown, has been relocated to heaven.  It came as quite a shock to everyone who knew him.  A year or so ago, he was asked to leave the church in my hometown.  Many felt he was too old and didn’t teach as he once did.  He left and began another in a community, not too far away.  He was welcomed with opened arms and continued preaching until the Lord called him home.  So, was his dismissal done in love?  Need?

     A beautiful young mother has been relieved of her position at the church I am attending, presently.  The reason given was she is not qualified to do all that was asked of her.  But, as we have found out recently, she is more than qualified.  She does have the certificates needed.   So, why the dismissal?  Where in this was love exhibited?

Was Christ glorified in this?  Does He appreciate seeing family members leaving the family?  Is division the answer?  What are we doing?  Why are we doing it?  Is Christ being glorified in our actions?

     A few days ago, my brother officiated the wedding of his beautiful granddaughter.  Now, Richard is not a minister, he is a deacon.  He took the time to become licensed because the minister and friend the groom had asked told him he would be glad to perform the service for $500.00.  WHAT?  Where is the love of God in that response?  What are Christians doing in this world today?  Is our heavenly Father pleased with all the ungodly trash filtering into our churches?   Do we even come close to what our God wants of us?  What are we doing?  How do we find our way back?

     I spoke to a friend yesterday, and during the conversation I learned that she and her family have not been in church for a couple of months.  They had left the church I attend because there was no group or person with whom her husband could relate.  He is a veteran of the War on Terror with many health issues.  The church they had moved to has no

place for neither her husband nor her daughter.  Both felt out of place, so they stopped going.  She has no desire to return to Fellowship, so they will visit another this Sunday.  What are we doing?  I have heard for years that the church is to be a hospital for the wounded, but how is this possible, if we are driving people away by our actions or inactions?  People are hurting!  What are we doing?  Why can we not just love one another? 

     Last week a well-known denomination voted to remove gender from their prayers.  It is unclear whether or not they will remove gender from the scripture.  Is it any wonder why it, far too often, appears as if our nation is no longer blessed, as it once was?  We have forgotten our foundation.  Are we receiving a wakeup call?  May God be merciful!  May He show us just exactly what we are doing and give us room for repentance.  His grace is sufficient, if we accept it and live it out.  Father, help us know exactly what we are doing or should be doing.

Childhood Christmas Memory

For unknown reasons, memories of a Christmas long ago have flooded my mind.  Perhaps it is the time of the year, the Christmas music playing, the decorations, or a combination of all the above, but the Christmas when I learned that Santa Claus was, in fact, not real came to mind.  Missing Tony has probably added to the memory rising up.

I was four or five, and Tony would have been nine or ten.  We had been sent to bed to await the arrival of Santa.  I had already fallen asleep when Tony came into the room and proceeded to shake me awake.  "Come here.  I want to show you something," he was whispering.  I just wanted to turn over and go back to sleep, but he insisted.  "I want to show you that Santa Claus is not real."  Stumbling I got out of bed and followed him to  the closet, and upon him opening it, I saw all sorts of items, some in bags or boxes, others not.  He then grabbed my hand and took me to the top of the stair case.  We walked down a few steps, just enough to allow us to look into the living room.  There was Mom decorating the tree!  Oh, no!  Santa always decorated our tree, but there was Mom doing it.
"See, I told you!  Now, do you believe me?"  I left him there without saying a word and went back to bed.  My young mind did not want to believe this, but there it was.

In the morning, we were awakened to see what 'Santa' had brought; I never let on that Tony had ruined the day for me.  We did not wrap gifts at that time, so I looked at each gift that was mine--eleven dolls, a dish set, and a table and chairs.  (I had many, many aunts and uncles.)  We had breakfast and I went to dress for outside.  I then went door to door, in our immediate neighborhood.  That was two long buildings that housed six apartments each.  I wanted to see what my friends had received.  Most in those eleven other apartments had received nothing, or very little.  By noon, I had given nine dolls away.  I kept two: one from Aunt Rosemary and the one Richard had picked up and threw across the living room, the little "brat."  LOL  He was two or three at the time, and he had not gotten a doll!

To this day, I do not know why Tony felt the need to reveal that little bit of information.  But, because of it, I did all I could to keep the myth alive for Richard.  I kept the doll Aunt Rosemary had given to me until we moved to Rio Hondo.  I gave the doll to Patsy Stokes' little sister.

I love Christmas!  I love the anticipation and memories it bring.  I, truly, love the kindness that fills the air.  Realizing why we celebrate has brought much joy.  For God so loved the world...  May each and everyone enjoy this season and remember the real reason for the season.