Boyd-1

Dear Boyd....

Yesterday was YOUR "birth day". Welcome to the family little boy!! Unlike your brother, Price, you came out pinkish, not blue, and cried right away!! As I watched so many friends and family come by to shower you with benevolence and love, it was a beautiful picture of Jesus' love and sacrifice. We adore you and will be praying for you, loving you and helping you as much as God gives us the grace to do so. Sweet hugs and kisses beautiful Boyd....YaYa

Price--Letter I

Dear Baby Price---Yesterday was your "birth" day. Our family has already experienced tremendous joy just gazing at you, kissing you and adoring you. There were a brief few minutes when you entered the world that I wondered if we would get to lavish that love on you due to the fact that you were blue! Yes, you were blue and we were expecting the rosy pink of a newborn baby. The hospital staff immediately whisked you away from your mother and began working on you right in the room. It seemed like an eternity (although I have been assured, it was just a few minutes) before we heard the sweet, loud cry of a newborn Price. As I held your mothers anxious hand and watched your dad looking down on you, I began to pray that God would give you breath. I also prayed that no matter what happened, our family would glorify your Creator. The God who created all things...created you. As you begin to grow, your Mom and Dad and other family members will begin to teach you about God and His great love. This is a good thing. Love and hugs....YaYa

God

This morning I woke up on my birthday and started grumbling to my husband about an e-mail I received last night. After breakfast I found a couple of other things to complain about-- until in the shower God brought to my mind the Haitian woman I saw on the news last night. She lost all five of her children in the earthquake. Her husband was holding her down because she sounded as though she would lose her mind. He was afraid to let her up. The same God who hears my confession of unthankfulness is the same God who comforts the oppressed. My prayer is that God would give this pitiful mother a hope for the future and open her eyes to His goodness in the middle of her devastation.

Freddie

My cousin Freddie passed away last night. He was born with Muscular Dystrophy and struggled with this disease his entire life...as did his family. There is great sorrow amongst his family today as well as the reminder that 10 men and boys in our family suffer or have suffered from this painful, debilitating sickness. I feel as though I have no right to even mention their suffering because in God's providence my brothers and nephews and son have been spared this malady....but I have observed and witnessed the agony, the sadness and fear that my grandmother, my Aunt Barbara, my Aunt Linda, Cousin Pam, Cousin Mary Jo, Cousin Angie and Cousin Jenny have lived with in having sons with Muscular Dystrophy. Today I offer my love and prayers for them all..that God would give them comfort, peace, understanding and insight in the middle of their grief and that they would be knitted together in their love for one another.

Sewing

My favorite hobby is sewing and over the years I have accumulated too much fabric. When I enter a fabric store it is like observing a child going into an upscale candy store---I want to touch, taste and smell it all. Remember how it feels to eat too much candy--the stomach begins to ache and you just want to throw it all up. That is how I began to feel recently looking at all that fabric in my project room. It has become a "stomach ache"..too much---so I have decided to throw it up and out. By the end of the year my fabric will become completed projects or will fit into one small area of my project room. Why I want to sew so often is also an issue....sometimes it is my escape..I don't want to feel or think about what is happening in my life. Those tough conversations or exposing myself to others is just too risky..been there, done that...just let me sew. So ridiculous when you hear yourself say these things...Jesus suffered...why would I think that suffering is not okay?

Harry-My Dad

My children never knew my dad, their grandfather. He died when they were babies. One time after lamenting that fact my sister said she was glad her children never knew him. Wow!--was all I could manage to utter. People really liked my Dad or really disliked him-apparently even his children. My extended family has always said I am the most like my Dad--ouch! We are/were too "black and white", too opinionated, too harsh, too loud--both without hope of changing until God gave us life in Jesus! That changed everything...

Big Mama

Most grandmothers are "nicknamed" by the first grandchild. Such was the case for Big Mama --my paternal grandmother. When I was a child, we lived next door to her on the family property. In stature, she was a "little" mama--only 4'10". Her hair was short, curly, and white as snow (sometimes with a tint of blue the first few days after her "beauty salon" appointment!). Imagine my surprise when she showed me a picture of herself as a young girl with hair that was long, straight, and black as coal. She was 1/16th "indian" (her words) and Godboldt was her maiden name. There are no stories written down about her childhood, nor do I remember her speaking much about her family. Her weekly routine was finely tuned like a musicians guitar. She woke very early, cleaned her house, ran her errands, ate lunch, took a nap every day in her hammock under the shade tree outside, watched her soap opera, played canasta with her sister on the front porch, made dinner, watched the news and went to bed--early! During the summer we helped her shell "conk" peas by the thousands-and watched her can vegetables for the coming year. She was frugal, adored the local Methodist choir (she sang alto); watched baseball while eating cheese puffs and worshiped Lawrence Welk and his Saturday night entourage. Big Mama would actually shush! you if she heard any noise coming from you during that show. I loved her--I'm not sure she was actually interested in me--but I was grandchild #8 and she was kind and that was just life. She died in 1992 when she was 92. I still miss her!