‘We’re going to Jefferson’

Jefferson – just a word. The surname of a United States president. The middle name of another, more recent president. The name of a funny TV family in the 1970s.

But, other than that, there’s really nothing special about the word.

Unless, like me, you happen to be from Jefferson, South Carolina.

I haven’t lived in my hometown for over three decades. In fact, I’ve spent more of my life living outside Jefferson’s boundaries than within. But the name will always and forever transport me back to what is real and right and good in the world and in life.

My older sister Brenda, who still lives in Jefferson, has spent the past couple months fighting a difficult battle for her health. She had surgery a week ago, and I was on pins and needles until I heard from her daughter, my niece, that all had gone well.

When Pam called the second time that day, she said, “We are going to Jefferson and Mama’s with us.”

That statement, “We are going to Jefferson,” carried so much weight. I could hear the relief in Pam’s voice. “We are going to Jefferson.” I know that her relief came from the fact that her mother had come through the surgery well, and was allowed to go home the same day instead of spending time in the hospital.

Brenda was allowed to go back to Jefferson. That’s home. For Pam, for me, for my whole family. We are, at heart, always Jeffersonians.

We are going to Jefferson.

When I go for my all too infrequent visits to the old home place, I always say, “I’m going to Jefferson.”

Yes, it looks quite different now. No longer is it the halcyon harbor of my youth. It has its warts and I see them clearly. And, just as it was when I was growing up there in the 1960s and 70s, it is a tiny town in the northeastern part of the state, in a poor county that is located where the sandhills begin blending into the red clay land of nearby Union County, North Carolina.

There is poverty in and around Jefferson. To find a job that pays in the upper middle class bracket, most folks have to leave the area or commute to Monroe, Charlotte, Florence or Columbia. Many people in Jefferson just get by.

But it is still home.

This past Friday — a week after the surgery — my sister’s younger daughter called to update me on her mom’s progress. Rhonda and I were talking about all the help and support Brenda has received. Rhonda told me, as Brenda has in my conversations with her, that folks were constantly visiting and calling and offering aid. Rhonda said something to the effect of, “That’s just Jefferson.”

And yes, that is just Jefferson. It is roots. It’s home. It’s a sense of belonging. It’s knowing where you’re from and where you can return to find comfort, familiarity and a sense of belonging.

No, I don’t think that Jefferson, S.C. has cornered the market on all of the above. But I do know this little bump in the road between Charlotte and Myrtle Beach made me who I am and instilled in me all that is worth remembering and living by.

As my brother Bud would say, “It’s a Jefferson thang.”

Ain’t nothin’ wrong with that.

Luke 8:39 — Return to your home, and declare how much God has done for you.

 Prayers: Today I am praying for my sister’s healing and strength. I pray for comfort and strength for her children and husband. I give thanks for my sister, for all of my family, and for home.

Mama’s hands

It’s the first day of a new year. This is not usually a big deal for me. I’ve never been a huge New Year celebrant. By January, I’m typically ready for April, warm weather, green leaves and flowers to hurry up and make an appearance. I do not like winter, cold weather, gray skies, snow, bare trees or short days, so as soon as Christmas has passed, I’m ready to hibernate until the daffodils bloom.

A friend once said that heaven, to her, would be to be 10-years-old forever, with perpetual summer. Oh my, how that idea stirs my imagination!

Anyway, this new year has caught me in an unusually pensive mood, with random memories rolling around and around in my head.

It seems as if everything lately has reminded me of my mother. I’ve seen her around every corner and heard her voice in every quiet moment for the past week or so. As I was putting on make-up and getting ready to go somewhere the other day, I caught a glimpse of my right hand in the mirror and thought, “That’s Mama’s hand!” And that truly opened the floodgates of my memory, as I began recalling all the things her hands did over the 80 years she spent on earth.

I suddenly saw her working dough between her palms, fingers extended, hands moving in a soft circular motion until a round biscuit was perfectly formed. She’d place the dough on the old, blackened, beat-up pan that she used for half a century and then, curling her fingers into a half-fist, tamp down just enough so that the baked product would sport three golden ridges on top.

I saw Mama’s hands, calloused from working on the farm, suddenly soften as she held the newest grandbaby, cooing in the baby’s ear and then performing one of the several funny routines she employed to make babies smile.

I saw her hands making Molly Pop villages in the sand at the edge of whatever field we were working in at the time, and wielding a hoe against the weeds in her garden. I saw those beloved hands hanging clothes on the line with wooden clothespins, humming a Bluegrass tune as she worked. I saw Mama’s hands holding out a blanket she had warmed by the fireplace, and wrapping it around my shoulders before I had to brave the cold upstairs at bedtime.

I saw Mama’s hands playing the mandolin, while she closed her eyes, sang in her lilting alto, and lost herself in an old hymn or country song.

I saw her hands tenderly placing a band-aid on my skinned knee and heard her telling me it wasn’t as bad as it looked.

And then I saw my mother’s hands opening the huge old leather-bound Bible that was always nearby. No matter the circumstance, she could easily find a Bible verse to fit it, explain it or make it more bearable.

Mama’s hands have been still for nearly six years now.

I’ve heard people say they can’t recall a lost loved one’s face after the person has been gone for a few years. I’ve often wondered how that could be. I remember vividly, not only her face, but every detail about my mother’s hands.

For me, those hands still symbolize goodness, honesty, hard work, whimsy, comfort, strength and love. As this new year begins, I feel blessed to have those memories. I pray I never lose the ability to recall what Mama’s hands looked like — and more importantly, what they stood for.

1 Timothy 1:5
Love comes from a pure heart and a good conscience and a sincere faith.

Prayers:
Today I pray for those who have recently lost a parent. I pray for abused and neglected children, orphans, and any child that does not know the pure, sweet, unconditional love of a good mother.

‘It’s not about where I finish’

The following was written by my grandnephew, Ryan. He posted it on Facebook and I asked him for permission to share it here on my blog. He graciously agreed. Ryan is just 30, but has seen a lot of tragedy and ups and downs in his life. He, like so many, got caught by the awful economy we’ve suffered for the past few years and is currently going to college and studying for a new career. I’m quite proud of him for that, and for many other reasons as well. When I saw his insightful words on learning from adversity today, I was even more proud of him. Enjoy.

2011 In My Words
 by Ryan Jackson

2011 started with lots of emotional distress; much of my comfort zone had been disturbed. There were questions to be answered, people to be questioned, and things just didn’t make sense. It seemed as if every time the stress from these emotions started to fade, something new would happen, something even greater than before, that would send me into a new depressed emotional state.

Throughout the year, I tried to give my worries to God, but I failed miserably most of the time. As the year comes to a close, I finally feel that God is in control of this situation and that I can rest assured knowing that He is with me and that I can trust Him to handle it all.

2011 was a year in which I made many new friends, and lost some old ones. I’ve learned lots of new things, and have even remembered things learned long ago. I have faced the same demons within myself that I have struggled with most of my life. I have overcome them only to let them back in and overcome them again. It’s a never-ending struggle but it is one that I am willing to let God handle. It’s been a year in which relationships have been strained, and I have disappointed many of the ones I love most. It’s also been a year in which I have brought great joy to those same people. I know that I can’t be perfect, but as a new year begins, that is what I want to strive for.

2011 has been a year in which my walk with God has been more like a distance race. I have felt Him there, but I was so far away from Him that I felt alone, and each time I felt as if I was getting closer, Satan would put an obstacle in my path that I had to overcome to get back in the race. It hasn’t been until recently that I realized though, it wasn’t me overcoming those obstacles; God was there to pick me up and carry me through the finish line. He was right beside me the whole time, He was with me, and it felt like He was so far away because I was looking so far ahead. If I would have just turned my head towards Him, He was there.

I feel more confident now, going into the new year, that I don’t need to worry about the race, it’s not about where I finish, it’s that I finish with Him; and if I trust Him, the race will be easy because He will carry me to the finish line. 2011 has been a year in which many great things happened to my family and me. It has also been a year of struggle, heartache, and stress. Looking into 2012, I know that Satan will continue to try to bring me down, but I also know that God isn’t going anywhere. When Satan arrives, my God will be waiting for him.

I pray that everyone has a happy and prosperous new year and that each and every one will come to the Kingdom of God. God Bless.

Romans 12:2  ESV

Do not be conformed to this world, but be transformed by the renewal of your mind, that by testing you may discern what is the will of God, what is good and acceptable and perfect.

Prayers  

Today I pray for all those who are struggling with adversity. I pray for those who are out of work, homeless, depressed, addicted, grieving, frightened. I pray for the United States and its leaders, that we all may seek wisdom and follow where God leads.

A legacy…. and a blessing

I went home to South Carolina this weekend, for the annual Christmas get-together with my siblings, and was reminded – once again – just how blessed I am.

December 10 marked the 10^th anniversary of my father’s death. My mother died three years after Daddy’s passing. I vividly recall my older sister, Brenda saying, shortly after our mother’s death, “We have to get together this Christmas. If we don’t get together this year, we’ll never get together again.”

It was  tradition that, on Christmas Eve, all six of Betty and Broadus Boatwright’s children gathered at 2 p.m. in the house we all still call home. Even after we “children” started getting some age on us, and our children were having children, all of the progeny made a point to be at Granny and Pap’s on Christmas Eve.

We no longer adhere to the Christmas Eve rule, but we do all meet up every year, on the Saturday before Christmas, in the fellowship hall at Fork Creek United Methodist Church – where we were baptized, went to Sunday school, worshiped, and grew up. And our children, and their children, and their children’s children are there for the annual gathering as well.

My older brother Bud is a retired Methodist minister, so it is always his job to bless the food before we dig in. This year, Bud’s prayer made me – and I’m pretty sure the other four siblings as well – take note.

I can’t quote Bud’s exact words in the prayer, but it went something like this: “Father God, we are grateful to be able to gather here today as a family. This gathering is a testament to Broadus and Betty Boatwright, who weren’t perfect, but who did the best they could. None of us are perfect. But our parents were good people who taught their children the importance of love and family, and this gathering is evidence of that lesson. Their legacy lives on in those of us gathered here today.”

As I stood between my older and younger sister, with their daughters close by, I felt so very blessed.

And I thought about that first Christmas after Daddy died. It was just 14 days after Daddy’s death that we all gathered at the house he and Mama shared for 50-some years, and that was home to us all. That Christmas Eve is mostly a blur to me, and to the other “Children of Broad,” as Bud has always referred to us. But I will never forget standing out in the back yard, watching a dozen or so little children running and playing and just being kids. As I fought the tears and watched the kids play, and listened to them laugh, I thought, “My goodness, all of these people are alive because of one man and one woman.” It was an awesome feeling.

I still have that feeling each Christmas, when all the Children of Broad and the grandchildren and great-grandchildren and great-great-grandchildren gather together for a couple of hours in honor of Broadus and Betty.

Those two people are why we’re all alive, and why we all meet up at that gathering each year. Their legacy lives on indeed. Praise God for that – and for them.

Deuteronomy 5:16

“Honor your father and your mother, as the Lord your God has commanded you, so that you may live long and that it may go well with you in the land the Lord your God is giving you.

Unexpected Blessings

The past month has been a whirlwind for me. After working as a writer at the local newspaper for 12 years, I decided I could leave that job and step into all new territory. So, I accepted a position at a charter school, teaching high school English and acting as public information officer.
The teaching has, without doubt, been the toughest, most challenging thing I’ve ever done. It has also brought great rewards already, though. Overall, I’m enjoying what I’m doing, but my principal and mentor teacher, both of whom are long-time friends of mine, have had to talk me down off the ledge a couple of times.
After my first month of teaching, my stepson, daughter-in-law and eight-month-old granddaughter came to visit last weekend, and it was wonderful. Miss Maren is a delight. Her parents are pretty fun too. But, the baby came down with the sniffles the day before the family was to fly back to Illinois. I felt so sorry for her, and when they left on Monday, all I could think about was that poor baby having to fly with a stuffy head. My daughter-in-law sent me an email when they got home, telling me that Maren did OK, with just a bit of fussing. But, by the time they were safely back home, Amanda had come down with the cold too. I now felt bad for both baby and mom.
And then the next day, I knew that I was coming down with the nasty bug as well. I started taking Zicam, vitamin C and cold medicine, and managed to get through the rest of the week.
When I left school Thursday evening — looking forward to having three days off for the Veterans Day holiday weekend, getting some rest, and getting caught up on everything I’m behind on, including this blog — it was cold and rainy. I do not like cold weather. I do not like rainy weather. And I really do not like cold and rainy weather.
I drove home, sniffling and sneezing, and feeling quite sorry for myself.
When I got to the house, I had to do the usual evening rush. Trash had to be taken out, dogs had to be walked and fed, supper had to be started, etc. etc. etc….
As I was walking out the back door with a bag of trash, my breath caught at the sight of one of those blood-red fall sunsets that cast a reddish-gold glow upon the land. The light made the red and yellow of the leaves stand out so vividly that it almost hurt to look at them.
And then, when I got to the end of the driveway with the garbage cart, I looked beyond one of the massive old red oaks in my front yard — which was also lit by the setting sun’s glow — and saw a rainbow.
Wow.
I just stopped, took a deep breath, stared, and thanked God for his wonders. He does tend to send the most magnificent blessings when we least expect it.
Praise God.

Job 5: 9-11
He performs wonders that cannot be counted. He bestows rain on the earth; he sends water upon the countryside. The lowly he sets on high, and those who mourn are lifted to safety.

Prayers

Today I will pray for all the men and women who are currently serving our country, and for the families of those who are now serving, as well as the families that have lost members

Going with the flow

A couple of weeks ago, I asked my husband, Paul to till the back yard so we could plant new grass. The summer was hot and dry, thus crabgrass took over when the poor fescue couldn’t handle the heat.

I had checked the county Extension Office’s advice on reseeding lawns, and was all set to make sure, come spring, I’d have a beautiful lush lawn to admire while sipping my morning coffee or an evening glass of wine on the back porch.

Almost immediately after Paul finished tilling, the rain started. And it’s rained several times since. And my dreams of green grass have turned into a nightmare of red Piedmont North Carolina mud.

Last night, I entered Paul’s “man cave” to find him watching a TV program on the Science Channel. It was a documentary about Chile and its volcanoes. There were dramatic scenes of old lava flows and homes destroyed by ash and lava.

One very vivid shot was of brightly colored red, green, blue and yellow homes knocked askew and nearly covered by the gray and black by-products of a volcanic eruption.

I looked at Paul and said, “And we think we have control over something,” meaning humans and the world.

Whether it’s as small as new back yard grass or as large as a natural disaster, all we really have control over is how we react and accept. And whether we place it all in God’s hands and trust him to know what’s best.

Jeremiah 29:11

For I know the plans I have for you, declares the Lord, plans for welfare and not for evil, to give you a future and a hope.

1 Peter 5:7

Casting all your anxieties on him, because he cares for you.

Prayers

Today I will pray for patience and humility.

I’ll pray for those who make their living by tilling the land and depending on the seasons.

I’ll pray for God’s guidance in all things.

‘Woman, you have great faith’

A few years ago, I went home to the small town I was born and raised in; not for a happy visit, but to see the woman who was my second mother, and who was now mourning the loss of her son.
Bobby (name changed) and I had been two peas in a pod as children. Either I was at his house, or he was at mine.
We went to church and Sunday school together, and Bobby’s mom, Mrs. Jennie, (again, name changed) was our teacher.
In fact, Mrs. Jennie would drive around on Sunday morning, collecting the children whose parents didn’t go to church, and see that they had a chance to hear the good news.
As an adult, Bobby struggled with alcohol and other demons. At the age of 50, he took his own life.
When I went to visit his mother, hoping to comfort her, she ended up comforting me, without even trying.
Sitting in the so-familiar “front room” of her home, instead of talking about her grief, she told me how she often awoke at 4 or 5 a.m. and couldn’t go back to sleep.
“But that’s okay,” she said, with that sweet smile I’ve known all my life. “It’s quiet at that time of day. It’s a good time to read my Bible.”
I thought, “What faith you have. What faith you have always had. I hope someday to get to where you are.”

Romans 10:17
Consequently, faith comes from hearing the message, and the message is heard through the word of Christ.

Matthew 15:28
Then Jesus answered, “Woman, you have great faith!”

Prayers

Today I will pray for parents who have lost children.

I will pray for those struggling with addiction.

Do not look down on one of these little ones

Sept. 12: It had been one of those weeks.

Monday was Labor Day, making it a short workweek. We were working on a special project at the office, so there was extra work for that, along with the regular load.

Saturday brought the annual church fundraiser, which meant toiling over boiling pots of Brunswick stew.

I couldn’t stay all day, because of the special project at work. I also had to do the grocery shopping and other normal household stuff.

On Sunday, I got up early to do some fall yard work before church. Then it was Sunday school, worship, come home and fix lunch, then more yard work.

At dusk, just as I was feeling quite overwhelmed, and slipping into the “woe is me” frame of mind that I hate but indulge in anyway, the phone rang.

It was my niece Shelby, who’s almost nine and in fourth-grade.

The girl was on a mission. She greeted me politely and asked if I had time to talk with her. I said sure, so she began reading, quite eloquently, the annual solicitation for money for her school.

She runs laps and those who want to support her are asked to donate whatever they can. I told her I’d offer five bucks per lap. She said she usually makes four laps, so I told her that I’d send a check for twenty dollars.

She then said her class was also raising money for kids who couldn’t afford the expenses for field trips. That really touched my heart.

Shelby had her sales pitch down pat. But she suddenly faltered and asked, “Are you in the Triad?” I said no, and told her I live in the Triangle region of North Carolina.

“Oh,” Shelby said, “well, then never mind.”

The school offers a booklet of coupons for money off on events around Greensboro to help support the field trips.

I tried to tell Shelby that I’d just donate anyway, but she was following the rules and wouldn’t hear of it.

I knew that trying to reason it out with her on the phone wouldn’t work, because, in her young mind, she’s supposed to stick with the script. And her mama, my sister, teaches her children respect and care for others.

Shelby and I ended our conversation with me promising to send the check for laps the next day.

I also made a note to include some money to help with field trips.

Prayers:

Today I will pray for children everywhere who don’t have enough to eat, decent clothes to wear, comfortable homes, or love.

I’ll pray for parents who are poor and/or unemployed and who wish they could give their children more.

I’ll pray for God’s protection for all children.

Matthew 18:10

“See that you do not look down on one of these little ones. For I tell you that their angels in heaven always see the face of my Father in heaven.

Romans 12:13

Share with God’s people who are in need. Practice hospitality.

Welcome to my blog!

Please peruse my ramblings here and let me know what you think.

 

My purpose is for this blog to serve as a devotional, with a story, prayer concerns and scripture.

 

I pray that you find something that touches you.

Blessings,

Phyliss