My Daddy

I've just come in from having lunch with my Daddy and my brother. Remarkable, isn't it? My Daddy and stepmother consider Troy, AL to be "home," but they have a townhouse in Athens, and about every 6 weeks or so, they drive up and stay about a week, connecting with relatives in this part of the state, especially my brother and me.

I went by the townhouse this morning to pick him up, but he insisted on driving because he had a new (to him) Prius and wanted to show off its bells and whistles. He's 83 years old now, but I wasn't even nervous with him at the wheel.

We met my brother in Decatur -- he has worked for 3M Company for 35 years and was "due" an extended lunch -- and had a great time, laughing, teasing each other, and sharing our hearts. It's what we do.

Even though Dad received an honorary doctorate from Mobile College back in the early 1980's, I think I'm the only one who consistently addresses mail to him with "Dr. Tom Collier."

To my children and grandchildren, he is "Gramps."

To hundreds of people who lived on the campus of the Alabama Baptist Children's Home between 1960 and 1990, he's respectfully known as "Mr. Collier."

To former students where he taught, coached basketball, or was the principal, he is "Mr. Collier."

To a huge host of friends and relatives, he's "Tom."

But, to me, he's "Daddy."

My Daddy is an extremely intelligent man. He is particularly good with numbers and a calculator (a trait my daughter Laura inherited), and loves "wheeling and dealing." He'd rather find a bargain than eat the fish that Steve catches and cleans for him, and he LOVES fried fish. :)

My Daddy has been a pillar in the Baptist church for as long as I can remember. His opinion matters to a lot of people, and his wisdom is widely-recognized.

My Daddy plays the piano by ear, and has gotten quite accomplished on his harmonica in recent years. His favorite audiences are folks in nursing homes and his great-grandchildren. He loves getting me to play duets with him, which is something of a feat since he always plays in the key of D-flat. :)

My Daddy's memory is amazing. He prides himself on seeing or hearing of someone from his past and being able to recall the names of everybody in that person's family. He rarely messes up.

My Daddy grew up as the son of a Limestone County sharecropper. I asked him today how many years he worked in the cotton fields, and he said "from the time I could carry a hoe until I got married."

He got both his bachelor's and his master's degrees from Athens College, now Athens State University and was the only one in his family to ever get past high school.

He loved my mother with his whole heart for the 37 1/2 years they were married. A year and a half after she died, he married June Mabray, and they've now been married for 24 years. He has been very blessed in both marriages.

It has been the desire of my heart for my whole life to make my Daddy proud of me, and I know that I will always feel that way.

He doesn't read blogs, so I doubt he'll ever read this, but let me tell YOU. I love my Daddy.

When a Woman Has a Daughter

Probably a more accurate title for this blog would be "When Connie Had Laura and Julie," but somehow I think the themes may apply to more than just what I was dreaming and thinking, so I'll keep it as it is and you can tell me later if you understand.

My children were born before the days of 4-D sonograms and ultrasounds. We got blue things and pink things -- just in case. My husband, who grew up with only a brother as a sibling, somehow thought babies only came in boys, so I couldn't even get him to seriously consider possible names for a girl baby until four days before Laura was born!! I was thrilled and deeply relieved when the doctor announced that we had a girl. See? I told you this was back "in the olden days." A girl. I was a girl, so surely I could be a mother to one. Right?

Laura was named for my mother's best friend growing up, Laura Jean Brookshire, who Mom always described as beautiful in the many stories I heard about her. We chose Katherine for her middle name because it sounded so regal and could be versatile, if necessary -- Katherine, Kate, Kat, Kitty, Katie, depending on how her personality shaped up. You get the idea. When Julie came along 4 years and 50 weeks later, we chose Julie because all of the Julies I'd ever known were wonderful young ladies, and the Rose part came from my mother's maiden name.

Laura Katherine and Julie Rose. Feminine, solid, promising names, don't you think?

Since I've always been "on the prissy side," I assumed they would be prissy, too. I fervently hoped they would be musical, knowing that their Dad's musical claim to fame is his ability to "play the RADIO." :) Much to my delight, they were wonderfully gifted in that area, so besides our gender and genes, we shared another great bond.

They grew up with winsome personalities and delightful femininity. A woman's dream. Or, at least MY dream.

Two important visions took shape in my mind during those years. 1) Being the Mother of the Bride -- with all the rights and privileges of that status, and 2) Being the One My Girls Would Turn to First When Their Babies Were Born. Now I also had a son, don't forget, so I clearly understood the distinction of being the Mother of the Groom and of being the mother-in-law when the babies arrive. But, I must quickly insert here that Katie is the World's Sweetest Daughter-in-Law, and her mother is one of the nicest ladies I've ever met.

My daughters' weddings were spectacular, if I do say so myself. :) With careful planning, I really believe that they were both able to have the day of their dreams WITHIN the budget that we set for them. I absolutely basked in my role as Mother of the Bride both times -- which turned out to be a mere 10 months apart.

Then, the babies started arriving. Julie, who is proving to be an overachiever in that department, gave birth to our first grandchild -- A GIRL -- in 2000. She and her husband and precious Allie Grace actually spent their first few nights out of the hospital at our house, which was a special treat. That sweet baby slept just a few inches from my face during those nights while Julie got some much-needed rest upstairs. I helped Julie learn to bathe Allie, mix formula, and change diapers. Just what the maternal grandmother is supposed to do. Right?

When Laura's first child was born, I was living in Ecuador. Isn't it amazing the twists and turns our lives can take? She and her husband specifically wanted their first few days home with Nathan all to themselves, and that was totally understandable. Different set of parents. Different ages. Different personalities. But, we worked the timing so that I flew in from Ecuador just as her husband was going back to work. I stayed with nearby friends at night, but as soon as I walked into Laura's house each morning, she gratefully handed Nathan to me and headed to her room to sleep and replenish her energy. In both cases, my daughters trusted me implicitly, and it felt so, so good to be needed and to be something of an oasis to both of them when they were just learning this awesome new role. They were then and have continued to develop into exemplary mothers. Our grandchildren are very fortunate little people. "One of these days" they will understand just how blessed they really are.

But, here's the rub. I've never seen the movie "Lemony Snicket's A Series of Unfortunate Events," but that's a great way to describe what happened a few weeks ago when our 9th grandchild arrived. Once again, I was the maternal grandmother, but I did NOT get to be "The One My Girls Would Turn to First When Their Babies Were Born," and I admit I've been pretty bummed about that.

It has taken me awhile to come around to the right perspective, but I think I finally have -- a much better place for me to be emotionally and spiritually -- so NOW I can blog about it.

Steve and I now have 4 grandsons and 5 granddaughters! The blessings just keep multiplying!!! I'm a big believer in having bonding times with these children individually and in small groups. That is where I choose to concentrate my energy. Cousins Camp 2011 will begin on Sunday, July 17th. Steve and I have been planning that week for months. We can't wait. That will certainly merit a blog or two as it unfolds -- or once I can move my typing fingers again after it's over.

I've concluded that bonding times don't just happen, especially since our children don't live very closeby. They have to be planned and savored as the opportunities present themselves. In the picture below, you can see Julie's daughter Maggie, along with Matt's sons Luke and Seth, on each end, and their 2nd cousin Trace. This was made last November when we were in Auburn for the Georgia game and then stayed to hear Matt preach at Lakeview the next morning. Luke, Seth and Maggie will be at Cousins Camp, along with Allie and Nathan.
Another grandchild doesn't know it yet, but she NEEDS some time to bond with Grandmomma. Megan Rose, Laura's daughter, will be coming to North Alabama to stay with her other grandparents while Nathan attends Cousins Camp. I can't let a grandchild come this close and not have some special time with her, now can I? So, Megan and I will have a couple of days and nights together BEFORE the older kids arrive. I think we need to make cookies, go shopping and have a tea party. Don't you?
Look at those gorgeous blue eyes -- both mother and daughter. Enough moaning over what should have happened that didn't. The best antidote is recognizing that I've got grandchildren to love and enjoy. Little Megan (above) lives in Ft. Smith, Arkansas -- 9 hours from Athens, AL. This child is a gift to our family, and I want to know her and delight in her. See you soon, Megan. You and Penelope will be old enough for Cousins Camp next year. And, Rosemary and Sam will be close behind. Where are my vitamins? Maybe I'd better take a double dose!

The Bible says that "Grandchildren are the crown of old men" Proverbs 17:6a. If I had written that Proverb, I would have added . . . "and old women." For today, I think I'll just stop after the word "crown." GRANDCHILDREN ARE THE CROWN. Yep. That's it.

6 Weeks are "In the Books"

To those of you who care and are holding me accountable, I have now finished 6 weeks of my renewed exercise efforts and my attempt to get in shape for a 5k before I turn 62.

In the Not-So-Great-News Category, I really haven't increased my speed much since Week 3, but I have been consistent in going at least THAT speed (which shall remain unspecified at this point).

In the Really-Good-News Category, even though the official Couch to 5k plan calls for three 30+minute workouts per week, a friend told me that her brother, who is a well-respected doctor, said that we should each be getting 150 minutes of aerobic exercise per week. I have walked for MORE than 150 minutes in each of the 6 weeks since I started this program. And -- drum roll, please -- this past week I actually walked for 236 1/2 minutes. Woohoo!!! Another great piece of news is that the calf-burning problem I had in Week 2 seems to have gone away.

In the What-Does-the-Future-Look-Like Category, I have about a week and a half for treadmill-walking before Cousins Camp. During that week, which is a highlight of our entire year, 5 out of the 9 grandchildren will be here, and they will receive mine and Steve's full, undivided attention. Many calories will be burned, however not necessarily on the treadmill. There ARE still 10 1/2 months left in this project, and one week of completely justified interruption will not cause The Goal to disappear.

Right??

Hurray for the treadmill, a quasi-permanent loan from a friend!

Hurray for a comfortable, air-conditioned bonus room where the treadmill lives!

Hurray for great walking shoes!

Hurray for interesting books to read that help me keep walking "just a little bit longer!"

Thanks for keeping up. Expect another report in about 3 weeks.

Fresh Peach Bread

Ripe juicy peaches are synonymous with summertime. Are you with me? Homemade peach ice cream is hard to beat, but somehow our ice cream freezer didn't survive the last couple of moves, so I had to think of a different way to use the peaches sitting on my counter. When I get ready to make a cobbler, I always go to the foolproof recipe in the original Cotton Country Cookbook. But, yesterday I decided to try something a little different and made 2 loaves of bread -- great when it's hot out of the oven or perfect for breakfast the next morning. Here's the recipe in case you've got some peaches begging to be used.

FRESH PEACH BREAD

Preheat your oven to 325-degrees. Peel and puree the peaches, then set aside. Spray two 9" by 5" loaf pans with Pam.

Cream together until light and fluffy 1 1/2 c. sugar and 1/2 c. shortening.

Mix in 2 eggs.

Stir in 2 1/4 c. pureed peaches.

Add the dry ingredients until well-blended: 2 c. all-purpose flour, 1 t. soda, 1 t. baking powder and 1/4 t. salt.

Then stir in 1 1/2 t. vanilla and 1 c. chopped pecans or walnuts. (The Pearson children were never big fans of pecans or nuts of any kind, for that matter, so feel free to leave these out. You'll still have a moist delicious finished product).

Divide the batter between the 2 loaf pans and bake for 55-60 minutes.

Sweet tea is my beverage of choice, but I bet this would taste great with lemonade. Enjoy!

My Latest Painting Class and My New Heroine

First of all, I would like to HIGHLY recommend the newly-opened Center for Lifelong Learning, sponsored by Athens State University. It is located in the beautifully-renovated building that years ago housed the Ben Jaffe's Department Store where I got my new school clothes and shoes when I was in elementary school. It's on Marion Street, right across from the Courthouse. The CLL already has many classes in the works -- all kinds of computer-related courses, financial advice, genealogy, books and authors, photography, yoga, etc. etc. But, my first choice was "Painting with Acrylics." The teacher was delightful and so were my fellow classmates, ranging in age from 13 to 80.

One in particular is my new heroine, the 80-year-old lady sitting next to me named Barbara. What an inspiration!! She has been a widow for several years, but she is most certainly not planning on sitting down in her rocker and feeling sorry for herself until it's her turn to die. No sir-ree. She's out among people, learning new skills and making new friends. She and "20 of her friends" just returned from a cruise. And, she and her sister will be driving to Georgia for a watercolor workshop next week. When her children questioned the wisdom of her driving that far, she said, "Well, I drove you everywhere you needed to go, didn't I?"

Oh, how I want to be like Barbara as I get older. Spunky. Curious. Friendly. Interesting. Enthusiastic. Inspirational. Happy.

I do NOT want to sit around waiting on someone else to figure out how to make me happy. I want my children to be envious of my social schedule. I want to be the one causing others to laugh and not just the one daring someone to make ME laugh. Get the picture?

I know it won't be easy. Already my body rebels against some great activities that my mind wants me to do. I want to reach down deep and keep going.

Just last night we had dinner with some friends whose only granddaughter was diagnosed with juvenile rheumatoid arthritis at the age of two. She's eight now and has become adept at "pushing through her pain." She might not be able to tap dance, but she can play soccer and loves to swim.

Well, when I'm 80, the list might be pretty long of things I can no longer do, but if I still have my mental capacities, then I PRAY that I will continue to seek out and fulfill God's daily purposes for my life. Because each day that I wake up in the morning, I have to assume it's because God has an assignment for me.

The painting I created during this class might not be museum quality, but I'm going to find a place to hang it, and every time I see it, I want to remember Barbara and live my life fully and well.

Week Four -- Day One

I am happy to report that a new habit seems to be forming, and I am actually becoming a "regular exerciser." Yay! I have now completed 3 whole weeks of spending 6 out of 7 days per week on the treadmill, only taking off on Sundays.

The most notable improvement this week has been the increased total time on the treadmill -- now I'm averaging about 40 minutes. This actually happened in a way I wouldn't necessarily recommend. I started on several mornings only to be interrupted by phone calls -- my son, my sister-in-law, my brother-in-law, Steve -- because Steve's mom has been going through a very critical health crisis. I would stop long enough to talk and then get back on. And, since I would want to get back to my same momentum level, etc. my total time inched upward.

My average speed is climbing back up, too, after needing to decrease and go more gradually because of burning calves that were plaguing me last week. I looked back at my log from Week 1, Day 1 and saw that I only made it for 18 1/2 minutes. Today I went for 45 minutes. Woo hoo!!! Now THAT'S progress. :)

I'm expecting some interruptions during this week with Grandbaby #9 pushing to make his appearance and the continued crisis with Steve's mom. But, I'm still committed to my goal.

And, oh yeah. I received some great advice and a huge boost of support from my friend Debi last week. She suggested that I go ahead and pick out a 5k event for next spring AND she promised to come and join me when I undertake this feat. How's that for added motivation?? Thanks, Debi.

Any suggestions for a nice FLAT 5k event in North Alabama in March or April of 2012? I'm determined to wear my 5k t-shirt to the bank when I cash that first Social Security check in May. There WILL be pictures made, of course.

Before long I've got to address the whole diet issue, too, but as Scarlet O'Hara said so beautifully, "I'll think about that tomorrow."

BUZZARD BAPTISTS!!

Steve and I had a delightful time last Friday night riding in a pontoon boat just after sunset with some of our wonderful new neighbors. The river was smooth, and the light breeze made it a perfect setting for laughter and conversation. The subject got around to the different churches that they had visited lately and the pros and cons of each (in THEIR opinions). Then, unexpectedly, our new friend Johnny (not his real name) said, "I'm just a Buzzard Baptist, you know." Steve and I looked startled and said, "What in the world is a Buzzard Baptist?" He said, "I just go to church when somebody dies and there's something to eat!" Of course, we hooted with laughter, since both of us have been SOUTHERN Baptists for over 60 years and have never heard that term. Aren't those words both humorous and accurate? Don't we all know people who fit the description "to a T?" Then yesterday, throughout the hours that I was in my church, fully experiencing all that it means to be a member of the Body of Christ, I kept thinking about the vast benefits that a Buzzard Baptist misses.

A Buzzard Baptist has probably heard many funeral sermons based on John 14 -- "Let not your heart be troubled . . . I go to prepare a place for you . . . ." and Psalm 23 -- "The Lord is my Shepherd . . . ." But what about the other thousands of verses and truths in the Bible? Does a Buzzard ever hear those? Yesterday, for example, the message was on spiritual warfare, and before I went to bed last night, I found myself fighting just such a spiritual battle. What if I hadn't known what it was or what to do about it? Our pastor is such a powerful communicator of God's Word. I never fail to learn from him. And, what about all of those multi-week series of messages that go into depth on issues of vast importance? Our son Matt pastors in Arkansas. He recently concluded FIVE YEARS worth of messages going verse by verse through the Book of Luke. How much deeper now is that congregation's knowledge of the life and words of Jesus!

A Buzzard Baptist never gets to soak in the joy of Christian fellowship, known as koinonia. Oh yes, he/she might get to taste the casseroles and cakes that are brought to feed bereaved families, but that's not the same as learning the heart of your fellow Christian and benefiting from the depth of love and concern. A week or so ago, I was in a small-group setting with fellow believers on a Sunday morning (something we full-timers call Sunday School), and I felt compelled to share some of the burdens we had been carrying as a family in recent weeks. One of the members of the class then voiced a prayer lifting those specific burdens in intercessory prayer to the Father. The peace and comfort that prayer brought to my soul was inexplicable apart from the presence and power of the Holy Spirit and the confidence in the Bible built from years of study and belief.

A Buzzard Baptist probably DOES get to have access to the ministerial staff of a church, especially when it comes to weddings and funerals, but what about having spiritual brothers and sisters come running during crisis times? I remember with such clarity the day that Steve, his Mom, and his brother were waiting on the river bank while the rescue squad recovered the body of his dad who had drowned. I had a caring minister and his wife by my side when Steve called to give me the sad news. Another time I received one of those dreaded diagnoses that we all hope we'll never get. In a meeting shortly afterwards, I quoted an old spiritual and said "It's me, it's me, it's me, oh Lord, standing in the need of prayer." And, my sisters gathered around and prayed fervently. God heard those prayers, and that diagnosis changed to something very good.

Oh, and how could I ever forget the support our family received when the children got married. It turned into something of a marathon event because all three children were married within 16 months of each other. There were 30 teas, showers, luncheons, and parties during those months and MOST were hosted by our fellow church members. Those same church members also filled the pews during those weddings, smiling and wiping tears during the tender moments and laughing, drinking punch and dancing (yes, we're the dancing kind of Baptists) during the celebration receptions afterwards.

I would guess that a Buzzard Baptist has never hosted a DiscipleNow Weekend, an Afterglow, or a Hayride/Bonfire with a speaker. He's probably never gone on a youth choir tour or a volunteer mission trip. He might not have ever worked in Vacation Bible School, taught a class of squirmy, giggling children or sat on a committee researching a crucial decision involving the future of the church. "In my humble, accurate opinion" (as former pastor Bro. Mark used to say), a person who calls himself a Baptist and yet sits on the sidelines waiting for the big meal to be served when someone dies is missing the best parts of his/her status as a Child of God. Yes, it's a comical term, but I really hope I don't ever become one. I need my brothers and sisters, and I WANT them to need me, too.

I pray that our neighbors will find a church that fits them best and that they will be drawn in by the fellowship, the worship, and the loving spirit of the members. Before long I look forward to hearing them tell about the meaningful times they are experiencing, the people they are meeting, and the places of service they are filling. They have talents, personalities and resources that would make great contributions to most any church. It sure is tempting to pass out their names and number. Instead, just pray with me for them, will you? Just say this: "Dear Father, you know those Buzzard Baptists that are friends with the Pearsons? Will you please draw them to a church where they can know You better, love You more and serve You in a way that matches with the way You created them? Thank you, God. Amen."