The living I've seen

After surfing along the internet highway and viewing second hand and on a screen so many things in our glorious world, I thought of some of the things my eyes have actually seen and I have actually touched. I'm not a world traveler, so I haven't seen the Egyptian pyramids or the Swiss Alps. I haven't seen magnificent buildings in exotic cities. But I have had some grand experiences.

I swam in the Atlantic Ocean many times. I walked the sand dunes of East Coast America and the mountain paths in the oldest mountains on Earth - the Great Smoky Mountains of North Carolina and Tennessee. I've seen the grand Mississippi River and the rolling Missouri River. I've seen the Cape Fear River near its headwaters and where it also emptied into the Atlantic Ocean. I swam in the Gulf of Mexico and walked pristine Florida beaches. I've seen tumultuous winds of hurricanes in the coastal city of Wilmington and the wind's destruction of massive centuries old Oak Trees. I've crossed the great and grand Red/Orange Golden Gate Bridge of San Francisco, California and traveled the winding coastal Pacific highway and looked out over the immense Pacific. I've seen aquariums of the Atlantic Ocean and of the Pacific Ocean and the creatures that live in the depths of both. I've seen wild deer on a utopian golf course on the edge and top of cliffs along the Pacific.

 
I've seen the face of a newborn child and looked into their innocent eyes and soothed their bewildering cry. I've seen and held a squirmy new born puppy whose eyes were not yet open to win the heart of "his human." I've seen the face of a loved one moments before they left their tired body. I've held their hand as it turned cold. I've felt the joy of new life within my own body, and felt the terror when my spouse, who I love deeply, is no longer at my side.

I've seen the glory of a tiny blossom as it opens and brings joy to those who take a moment to see it. I've experienced the privilege of seeing blue skies, white clouds, yellow sunlight, cleansing rain, and pure white snow. I've experienced the joy of a pantry full of food to prepare and the delight of a well made home prepared meal shared with loved ones. I've had the privilege to eat in restaurants both humble and glorious, both inexpensive and quite costly. I have the joy of living a life of comfort, warmth, abundance. A life of love. A life of care and caring. A life of seeing and telling. 

I have lived. And God has provided the living of that life day by day in His gracious caring way.

Veterans

Veterans. Veteran's Day. Who are they, and what is it? It's a day to remember those who served in the United States of America military services. Some are young. Some are old. Some fought on the ground, upon the seas, and in the air. Some fought myriads of paper work that flowed endlessly across the sea of records that was their desk. Some taught various courses with lectures and chalk upon the chalk board. Some served abroad. Some served at home. They were our military men and women. They are those we respectfully remember on each Veteran's Day.

My husband served in the Air Force during the Korean War. He ended up teaching with lectures and chalk. Radar math for those who would be in the air and on the land tracking with this resource. It was the late 1940s to early 1950s. He never flew a plane or shot at an enemy. But he was a veteran. He loved his time serving his country. He respected our flag. Respected our America. Respected those who served.

And we continue to do so.

A tea cup memory

As I sit ensconced in my comfy, "old lady" recliner on this slightly chilly day in mid October, I am sipping a delightful cup of warm "Constant Comment" tea. It brings to my mind childhood memories. It also brings memories of my young motherhood self. And it brings a couple of delightful and blessed memories of my dear mother.

My childhood home was about four blocks (city of Wilmington, NC) from a very old - yes, old even then - school, Tileston. This housed an elementary school and a Junior High. I attended there from first through ninth grades. In those days, the school cafeteria served hot and cold lunches. They weren't free. Parents had to pay for them. So I walked home every day for lunch.

My mother always had a bowl of soup, or a sandwich, ready when I walked in the door. Sometimes milk to drink or water. But on the colder days, there was a cup of hot tea. I remember mother setting the cup down on the table with the tea bag still in it and steam rising from the cup. She cast toward me one of her precious smiles and had a twinkle in her eye as she did so. She loved me. She found joy in providing for me.

Fast forward to my young adult life when I, as a young mother I found joy in providing for my children just as my mother had found joy in providing for me.

Knowing my limited "means" during these days of my being a young mother, she would sometimes surprise me at Christmas with a tin that held a few bags of "Constant Comment" tea. A treat I didn't allow myself as a young mother. Again, that sweet smile and that precious glint in her eye.

Yes, my dear mother continued to provide that joy even then.

And today, as I sip my tea, my hands are holding the last remaining cup 'n saucer from mother's breakfast set. The cup's smooth surface along with the warm smoothness of this sip of tea awakens the remembered joy as the tea glides into my mouth and trickles down my throat.

A tea cup memory of a beautiful love.

Note: Mother would be 109 now. Also, dishes "VersaTone by Noritake."

The Fathers In My Life - A Heritage

I have been blessed to have my father in my life and I still grieve that he is no longer here where I can see his face, feel his hug, and hear his voice. But he isn't the only "father" that has been part of my life.

I'm a "long-lived senior" so there have been generations of fathers whose presence has enriched, blessed, and protected me throughout the years.

First, my father. What a joy to have him in my life throughout childhood and into adulthood! He had the privilege of getting to know all five of our children.

Sam Lennon Houston
Father

Pondering the Winter of Life's Seasons

As the cold of winter sets in and days are short and often dark, minds of many are set to pondering the changing of the seasons. Seasons of the year, true. But often the seasons of life are the mind's troubled way of feeling the chill of the winter of one's life encroaching as days shorten and days darken.

One thinks of the path or road not taken as life's journey was made. Was the fork in the road life changing? Was it the right choice? What if the other road had been taken?

No matter the choices made, the winter of seasons lies upon us and we dimly peer into the dark night ahead. Ponder these penned words and do not go.....

Remembering, Honoring, Teaching via Wreaths Across America

Remembering and honoring those who served America's military - Wreaths Across America teaches the value of freedom

More than 2,000 people volunteered & helped lay wreaths at the Salisbury National Cemetery on Saturday morning, December 16, 2023 to participate in Wreaths Across America. It was a privilege for two of my daughters and I to attend and be a small part of this memorable day. My heart was deeply moved to see the rows of white headstones as they stood at precise attention to receive the salute of appreciative Americans. We lovingly touched the final resting place of my dear one. A day well spent and a memory to treasure.

Remembering..... Christmas through the eyes of a child - a long time ago

This is going to be a "republish" of mine from 2014. It still warms my heart when I ponder these memories of a time long gone. A time worth remembering. A time of good and joy and love.

 

Christmas through the eyes of a child on South 4th Street - a long time ago

I was born post-depression era and pre-World War II. I was the apple of my father's eye. His little "Shirley Temple" complete with smile and curls and the talent to dance a bit.

Dad was a pre-depression era Southern boy who fell in love with my mother and they married at the height of the depression. Children came along and the "child" in Dad bloomed. Dad was a man who loved hobbies. One of his was electric trains. These were not the narrow gage trains with small engines. They were the old Lionel trains. Dad created a city beneath the Christmas tree each year, and his trains rounded the tree regularly. Whistles tooting! Smoke from the engine's smoke stack. Village houses lite up powered by the same electricity that powered his trains. They were his pride and joy. Of course, not as much a  pride to him as his sons and daughter.

Christian Moms Blog guest post: "Wisdom From A Mom From the 60s"

Wisdom From A Mom From the 60s

Having been given the opportunity to write for Christian Moms Blog, I set to thinking what I, a very senior “Mom,” could share with today’s modern mothers that might enlighten, encourage, and perhaps entertain them a bit. As a Christian, I would like to state emphatically that without the Grace of God and His strengthening me in my weak moments and His holding me firmly in His Almighty hand, I simply would not have made it.

I was a young mother in the 1960s and those were tumultuous years – the 1960s and 1970s. So much was changing morally, politically, and socially. But even in the midst of that turmoil and the heart-wrenching news of the day, my biggest concern was my home – my young family and my dear husband. We had a large family. We had four children in just under six years, and then child number five was born just as the others were all settled nicely in school. So a full house.

A word about grocery shopping

I never liked the idea of planned menu grocery shopping. Of course, I recognize that this might be a positive shopping approach for some. I found that once I had learned the basics of cooking and had enough cash-on-hand to stock basics that I could prepare most meals and meals/dishes without issues. There are, of course, special fresh items that one needs to purchase for specific recipes that require a shopping trip other than basic shopping.

Shopping cart with plastic-free foods.
(Martha Bebinger/WBUR)
borrowed from https://www.wbur.org/news

I approach shopping (in these, my senior years) by shopping for what I enjoy, sales (for stashing away in pantry or freezer), products for which I have a really good coupon, and what will agree with my health. So some limitations. Some splurges. Some sensibilities. 

ART WITH A HEART FOR UKRAINE Illustrated by Children of Ukraine: 100% of the book's proceeds go directly to rebuilding & supporting Ukrainian schools & communities

ART WITH A HEART FOR UKRAINE: UKRAINIAN CHILDREN’S ART PROJECT a collection of powerful artwork from the hearts and minds of Ukrainian children

NASHVILLE, TN – Complete strangers collaborate to create a powerful retrospective of art amidst war from the children of Ukraine.  Available October 15, 2022, as a softcover book, eBook, and digital retrospective, Art with a Heart for Ukraine features beautiful and heart-wrenching artwork from Ukrainian children, many of whom lost their schools completely.  This expression comes from the hearts of children depicting not only their despair and cruel reality but also their enduring belief in love and hope.

With the lives of millions of Ukrainians uprooted and hundreds of communities, including schools destroyed, Linda Ragsdale, a terror attack survivor herself and founder of The Peace Dragon, a non-profit organization dedicated to teaching children about personal and world Peace connected on Facebook with perfect stranger Ukrainian-American, Inna Golovakha of Project SELO, a non-profit language-based organization who recognized their aligned missions.   The two organizations joined forces by reaching out to a network of Ukrainian teachers and parents, and within three weeks, over 150 pieces of emotionally driven works of art flooded in.  Today these two countries are forever connected through this honest expression from children living in a war zone combining the passion and purpose of two women dedicated to spreading world peace. 

Ragsdale enlisted the help of FlowerPot Press, publisher of her award-winning, The Peace Dragon Tales Series, who quickly donated their creative services to publish a soft cover and eBook called Art with a Heart for Ukraine, available October 15, 2022.

100% of the book's proceeds will go directly to rebuilding and supporting Ukrainian schools and communities destroyed by the war. Ragsdale and Golovakha are available for press interviews and can display the artwork digitally and tell this heart-wrenching yet uplifting story.

According to AP News Wire, over 260 schools simply do not exist any longer, and nearly 2400 have been severely damaged.  Another 3500 will operate remotely, but these children's resilience, honesty, and hope live on in their art. 

Purchase the book, please visit https://the-peace-dragon-shoppe.myshopify.com/collections/art-with-a-heart-for-ukraine

"Art With a Heart for Ukraine" Illustrated by Children of Ukraine - US $25.00  | Softcover  | 32 pgs. | All Ages

BACKGROUND: The Peace Dragon: Linda Ragsdale founded The Peace Dragon after surviving the 2008 Mumbai terrorist attack and used art as an integral part of her recovery from her machine gun bullet wound.  It became an integral part of her life’s calling.  Today she travels the world to help students of all ages find, keep and inspire peace through stories, art, and activities. She created The Peace Dragon and, together with the world’s children, has drawn over 100,000 dragons, giving the children the opportunity to connect with the gift they’d like their dragons to bring to the world. With the war starting, Linda contacted schools to send cards to the displaced families to let them know they were seen, heard, and supported. She truly believes art, in all its forms, heals.

Linda is an author, illustrator, international speaker, and peace teacher.  She developed her Peace Dragon Tales picture book series to help children harness their fiery and emotional energies and redirect them into peaceful and productive outcomes. She developed a heart-centered curriculum that she takes worldwide, encouraging kids to set peace as the default response to any life challenge. Find her personal story of choosing peace, along with activities and downloads, at www.ThePeaceDragon.com.

Project: Inna Golovakha is the founder of Project SELO, which helps Ukrainian teachers practice their English with American volunteers. These interactions naturally foster an exchange between the countries. When the war started, it became a gathering place for survivors to be heard and seen. It was through Project SELO that a pen pals program, class connections, and art as a support mechanism were seeded. Through these joined connections, support has already been provided to schools, teachers, and students in war-torn Ukraine.

Inna is a Ukrainian-American whose life was always spent between two countries. In 2017 she started her non-profit Ukrainian Cultural Initiatives and published a quarterly magazine, The Ukrainian: Life and Culture, helping Americans become familiar with Ukrainian contemporary culture. This led her to Project Radowell, founded by local philanthropist Mykhailo Veselskyi to help children from local villages receive a public education with American teachers. Inna saw how the English language is needed but not accessible to teachers in the villages. This led her to form Project SELO, where American volunteers connect virtually to converse with Ukrainian teachers and practice their English.

DISCLOSURE: This is a charity posting. I was not compensated. The Ukranian war is heartbreaking on all levels but the effect on children simply breaks my heart.

A chill in 'Carolina

 I just wonder how other folks here in middle North Carolina feel about being slammed with winter when summer had forgotten it was finished. Summer seemed to linger lazily amongst us letting us bask in warm sun and gentle breezes. (Of course, we will just ignore the fact that hurricanes do have more than gentle breezes and do blot out our sun!)

But really, yesterday morning I awoke to a "hard freeze" as we call it here in the Tar Heel state. The ground was crisp and frosty white. Leaves on hydrangea bushes blackened. Beautiful blue hydrangea blossoms chillingly browned.

And again today, we woke to cold. Tonight it is cold. Though our beautiful Carolina Blue skies and warm sunshine did make the day a joy.

So we're in for it now. Maybe there will be a bit of "Indian Summer" or maybe not. But in 'Carolina the saying is..... "If you don't like the weather, wait until this afternoon and it'll be a different season."

Age has no hold....

 Age. The cause of death. The cause of waning abilities. The cause of weary weakness. 

Age. The entranceway of disease, infection, susceptibility. 

Age. The hammer of time.

The body is simply a case that holds the soul. The soul is that part of us that engages mentally and spiritually with the human and the divine.

When that case becomes weakened through the ravages of time and the wear and tear of daily abrasions, it begins to crumble. It begins to crack. In those microscopic wear points, the enemy creeps in.

The enemy of the body comes in the form of mental decline. One's lungs cease to gather in the essential air and expell the nonessential gases. One's heart dances to the tune of a weary drummer that misses the beat or gets caught up in a run, trip, fall dance. The blood courses through the body in a river of time that is increasingly thick with the silt of life.

Microscopic beings invade. They ravage. They war. And the armour of youth is so worn that age fails to bar the portals that allow the foe entrance.

The battle is fought sometimes quickly and sometimes it creeps along wearying bystanders who see in the raging war their future.

Age. Takes a final toll. A final thrust. And man is released from that case that held him and that living, breathing, soul soars victorious.

Age and death have no hold over the soul.

--Vera Godley© 3/1/2022

" . . .even if we're apart, I'll always be with you."

Jack H. Godley of Graham, NC died peacefully on February 4, 2022 surrounded by his family at the age of 92. He was born March 12, 1929 in Wilmington, NC and graduated from the University of North Carolina, Chapel Hill in 1957 with a degree in Industrial Relations. While in school, Jack was active in multiple areas, including the Men’s Glee Club, the Baptist Student Union, and Alpha Phi Omega Service Fraternity.

During the Korean War, Jack applied his mathematical talents for four years in the Air Force as a Radar Instructor until his honorary discharge in 1952 as a Staff Sergeant.

Jack and his wife Vera settled in Carrboro, NC and raised five children while he worked for the University of North Carolina. After 20 years, he retired from the University of North Carolina and continued his career with Bell South, retiring in 1994.

Jack was a long-time member, deacon, and trustee of Calvary Baptist Church in Carrboro, NC and he unwaveringly lived sacrificially for his Savior and his family.

He is predeceased by his parents William Larry and Lee Clory Meares Godley and survived by his wife of 64 years, Vera Houston Godley; his five children, Princess (Aaron) Smith, Mark (Mary) Godley, Vera Andrews, Tim (Aimee) Rosewall-Godley, and Becky Suiter; thirteen grandchildren; three great-grandchildren; sister Betty Croom; and several nieces and nephews he loved dearly.

Funeral services were held.... in Graham, NC......

------------------------

(I wrote in 2019..... https://www.chatwithvera.com/2019/06/celebrating-anniversary.html)

It's Christmas.. .. ..

 And this is Christmas.....

There is so much of Christmas everywhere. Its lights on trees. Songs in the air. Smiles on faces. Toys in shops. Crowds in stores. It’s shopping in malls and stores on the corner. It’s cooking in the kitchen - cookies and cakes and pies of the season. Its harried Moms and Dads. Its jaded store employees and fretful owners. It’s a gleam in the eye of a child. A ring of a bell beside a red kettle. Its church choirs in harmony rejoicing at a miracle of God become man in the form of a babe.

It is sadness in the eyes of the homeless. It is tattered coats and sleeves too short on children suffering from want or abuse. It is the ch-ching-ching of a register as a shopper buys an eloquent gift while a hungry child looks longingly through the window of a restaurant.

It is despair. It is hope. It is joy. It is sadness.

But most of all it is God.

God Himself in the form of a newborn infant in wrappings of rags or swaddling clothes. It is a rank stable or manger. It is a gentle virgin’s warm embrace. It is love. Love where God looks on man’s wayward heart and says it is time for His Son to bring redemption.

Christmas is a babe. Christmas is Christ the incarnate Son of God.

Pandemics and Survival

Pandemics.

Global illness. No known treatment. 

Non-discriminate on who becomes ill or who dies.

Covid-19. Spanish Flu or Flu Pandemic of 1918. Black plague. "The Pox." Polio.

Man's battle against microscopic enemy has waged war in epic proportions and sometimes won and sometimes lost. But man, being an intelligent being and vying for the continuation of humanity, fights on.

My family,  those through history and currently living, have been touched ever so lightly by pandemics. We've been so thankful to have been spared. 

I recall stories my husband's father told of how as a young army man during WWI the Spanish Flu waged rampant. So many young, strong men were sick and dying. My father-in-law, a young man at the time, unmarried, and in the army became ill. 

He was a "strapping" strong young man who had grown up on a southern farm. It was a 2-mule farm and his father worked his sons as hard as he worked the mules. Each son inherited a portion of the farm, but my father-in-law went into the army. 

He didn't get to fight in the traditional sense of a country at war. But he fought. He fought the Spanish Flu. There were so many sick and only the ones expected to survive were cared for. The others were placed in the "dead room."

My father-in-law was placed in the "dead room" where he remained for two weeks.

As he told and re-told this story, his face would become slack and a faraway gaze would come into his eyes. It was undoubtedly a terrible experience. But he lived.

He lived. Married. Fathered six children (one died in infancy). Raised his family during the great depression and fed them by working hard at various jobs. He was a hard working, strong man that lived 97 years.

Pandemics. They come. They go. They destroy. They spare. But man must fight with every tool available to be certain that mankind does survive. That our young don't perish nor our weakened older generation suffer.

I am thankful for the Smallpox vaccination, the Polio vaccination, the Measles-Mumps-Rubella vaccination. Others that have either eradicated or controlled the pandemics and despicable illnesses that man faces.

Illnesses, vaccines, end-results, and fears

As a child of the 1940's and a post WWII world where new discoveries were frequent and wonderful, I experienced a bit of both the pre-medical-wonders world and the prolific advances in medical science.

I had most, if not all of the childhood diseases - measles, mumps, chicken pox. We had frequent colds. And I had pneumonia five times before the age of 6 years. No antibiotics for help in getting well. Just one's own immunity and the tender loving care of family, nurses, and doctors.

I count it a blessing that I and my family escaped the polio epidemic that raged during my childhood. Others didn't, and their bodies were ravaged from that terrible illness.

Thankfully, the scientific and medical world was busy discovering many new aids for the fight against disease. So when my own children were in their early childhood, the Dr. Jonas Salk POLIO VACCINE became available.

When made available in our area of the United States, we stood in line and received ours's. Even our current "babe in arms" received it. We didn't hesitate. You see.....

We had seen and experienced the ravages of disease in our lives and the community. We were thankful for the privilege to have the opportunity to defeat the foe. 

Years later, the effort to eradicate one of the childhood diseases - SMALLPOX - became a reality as the result of world-wide vaccination against this disastrous virus.

So today, I speak as one who trusts our medical scientists, our doctors, and especially the doctors who treat me and my family. Today, in our time-line, there is a virulent virus rampant in the world killing and causing life-time bodily harm. Our defense is to be on the offensive. Our weapons* include being vaccinated against it.

So I am pro-vax. I and my husband are vaccinated against the COVID-19 virus.

*Other weapons include: masking, washing hands frequently, distancing oneself.

--©Vera Godley/Chat With Vera 8/10/2021

Reflections on a father's love and steadfastness

 

As I reflect on today - Father's Day, I think of my father and some of the things he did for me. As a young child (under 6 years) I was very sickly, anemic, and had double-pneumonia 5 times. This required hospitalization in the "Babies' Hospital" in Wilmington, NC. This was a forward-thinking hospital in those days. Consider that this was very early 1940s. One of those hospitalizations I ran a fever that just wouldn't break so the treatment was a bathtub filled with water and ice. My mother helped the nurses hold me down in the icy bath. Another time more desperate measures had to be made to build up my sick body. It called for a blood transfusion.

My father's blood was transfused directly from his body into mine. We were on adjacent tables and the tubes ran from him to me. Yes, it was successful. And yes, my father saved my life.

There was no penicillin back then. Only sulfur drugs and injections to build up the blood.

But dad's doing things for me didn't end with saving my life as a small child. No, he influenced me with his steadfast determination to do all he could and do it the best he could. He took correspondence courses in Biblical Theology becoming a respected and knowledgeable lay preacher. He also took a correspondence course in accounting qualifying him to do the accounting for businesses around town. He studied nights after working a long, hard day. He did his bookkeeping for businesses at night after a long hard day. Yes, he was a hard working, intelligent, steadfast man.

He had a love for swimming and as a young single man had participated in swimming and gymnastics at the local YMCA. When summer came he took his family of 3 children, plus mother, to the beach as frequently as possible during the summer months in North Carolina. We lived just a few miles from the beach so it was convenient. One beach trip, he became frustrated at me when I wouldn't just dive head first into the crashing waves. So he laughingly took hold of me and led me out into the deeper waves, past the breakers, over my head. The he grasped me, lifted me up, and toward shore gave a toss that drove me to swim with all my might. From then on, I loved swimming beyond the breakers where the water rolled over you, lifting, lowering you in peaceful joy.

Yes, he sometimes drove me to be more, do more, go further than I thought I could. Strive to swim. Push for an "A."

He was a good father and on my wedding day he gave me away with joyfulness to the man that would become the father of his grandchildren.

I was always the "apple of his eye" and his "pride and joy."

I love you, Dad, and thank you so much for everything.

Remembering Christmas past. . . (revisiting a previous year's post from "Chat With Vera")

Things I remember about Christmas past......

• The tinkling of a child's music box as the tiny ballerina twirls in pink splendor.
• The joy of seeing my children in new pajamas I had made for them.
• The thrill on their face as they sing at the top of their voice during the church Christmas program.
• The bedraggled child-shepherd walking down the aisle toward the babe in the manger as only a little one can do when robbed in a too big, plaid bathrobe with a towel wrapped around his head.
• The high school student performing in "Who Stole Baby Jesus" and being so proud.
• The cold of caroling at the grandparents after a three hour drive to get to their house.
• The joy of small children opening mysterious packages wrapped with love and tenderness.
• The weariness of  being a parent and still wrapping, in the middle of the night, those secretive treasures for her beloved children to receive on Christmas morning.
• The twinkle in a grandfather's eyes as he watches his grandchildren unwrap a gift.
• The small gift from a Sunday School teacher.
• Singing in the choir as a high schooler and being so thrilled with the music.
• Opening hymnals to the few pages of Christmas carols each year and singing the beloved favorites.
• Hearing silly songs on the radio.
• Hearing beautiful renditions of beloved, traditional Christmas carols.
• Receiving a bike for Christmas as a child.
• Looking at photographs, black and white of course, of Christmas as a child.
• Stumbling into the train at the base of my parent's Christmas tree when I crept into the living room  under cover of darkness on Christmas Eve to try to peek.
• Maturing and realizing that all the wrapping and all the glitz and all the sparkle is nothing compared to the joy that was brought to the World by the birth of this wee babe in a manage who is Christ the Lord and who came to Save us from our sins.

Dear friends, yes, I wrote this a year ago. But I wanted to share these memories with you once again and perhaps provoke you to dive deep into the recesses of your own memories to recall, recollect, and reminisce a bit. If you wish, share those memories in the comments...... 

Ask a Southern lady what makes the South different

From my rambling thoughts in 2013.

Did you ask a Southern lady what makes the South different?

Ah, you ask a Southern lady what makes the South different? Well, we say "Yes Sir" and "No Sir" in these parts. We show respect. We call someone older than our self Mr. and Mrs. XXX and we hold the door for ladies and old folks.

We still expect baggers at the grocery to bag groceries and help the eldery get them to the car. Of course, the budget and the yanks have just about taken that away from us.

We like our tea strong and we like it sweet and we like it cold and not diluted too much with ice. Just enough to break a sweat on the glass if its warm outside.

We like our vegetables cooked tender and soft - not tender crisp (or raw). We do enjoy a nice cool salad but salads and cooked vegetables are two entirely different things.

Most of us talk slow enough so you can understand what we're saying and take it in. It usually gets pretty warm down here and we just can't rush things as much or our "boiler" will burst wide open.

Here in the "new South" we enjoy other things and foods as well as the next person. Just keep within the bounds of proper cooking. No "wave offering" of warmth over that food. We like it cooked hot and long. We like our grits - morning and night. We enjoy them with butter and we enjoy them with cheese. I don't like sugar and milk on mine and have never known a Southerner who does.

Now if you're from the North or from California (or Seattle) you might think we're a bit slow around here. Not so. We just take it easy because as I said..... that boiler might just explode in the heat. But if you'll be patient with us, we'll try to be patient with you and your fast talking, fast driving, fast living (well, they're doing that everywhere aren't they). We'll let you tell us about your ways and maybe you'll be courteous enough to let us share a bit about us, too.

Now, what 'r you having for supper tonight? Grits?

When faced with uncertain days....

There are days when it seems a tunnel is closing in upon you and you despair reaching the end or escaping it.

Days when the futility of that day is lost in the one you are facing tomorrow.

Giving in to the inevitable is not a given nor is it an acceptable fate nor easy state. One's determination must prevail and project itself uppermost in the overwhelming odds stacked against us.

Weak. We fight. Weary. We rest then we fight. Defeated. We rise again.

And we have that always certain and prevailing promise....

"Thou wilt keep him in perfect peace whose mind is stayed on thee, because he trusteth in thee." (Is. 26:3)

,,,, and the ever assurance of Heb. 13:5 "I will never leave thee nor forsake thee.