Memories Of The Heart

She says I ruined her childhood with
"Kelly Kids" clolthes

I was cleaning Bailey's room recently, preparing for overnight guests, when I opened her closet door. I've written before about my empty nest and how I've dealt with that so I was not expecting the tears. As I stood there in the midst of her belongings a flood of memories washed over me...her childhood stared back at me from floor to ceiling.

There were her cheerleading outfits–middle school and high school. A little white blouse hung on the rack, size 6, with "Bailey" embroidered on its Peter Pan collar. (Warning: never put your child's name on clothing in a visible location). Hanging in all their splendor, long forgotten prom and cotillion dresses, at one time the center of our lives as we sought the "perfect" dress. Now rarely noticed except by this momma.  

The Closet of Memories

There were books and puzzles and shoes to go with aforementioned dresses and various other things left behind when she moved. As I stood there thinking about her childhood, and the wonderful young woman she's become, I realized my tears were different than last year, I'm different. I gently shut the door and wiped away my tears.

My all time favorite prom dress

That's what God can do with our brokenness, our hurt, our pain. If we give it to Him, He can transform us, heal us and change us. He can take our memories and turn them into cause for joy.

I've tried to bury mine for so long and now that I've cleaned out the closet of my own personal memories,  I can finally begin to heal.

He wants to heal us and give us new memories...change us and transform the way we view ourselves, but more importantly, the way we see Him. He wants us to see Him as the way to life, real life, abundant life. It will change the way we do everything.

So, what does this mean for me? I'm slowly, but surely beginning to gently close the door on old memories.

I waited patiently for the Lord; 

He turned to me and heard my cry.

He lifted me out of the slimy pit,

out of the mud and mire;

he set my feet on a rock

and gave me a firm place to stand.

He put a hymn of praise to our God.

Many will see and fear

and put their trust in the Lord. 

Psalm 40:1-3

Peace and blessings,
Cindy

Ain't No Mountain High Enough...

Is there a mountain in your life you want to climb and you haven't figured a way to get to the top? I'm speaking figuratively, of course, but let me tell you a story.

When I couldn't have babies, after several years of marriage, my husband and I decided to choose adoption. We were still young and naive and so defeated with infertility that adoption seemed to be God's answer that would take us in a positive direction...a direction that would yield a baby to fill our empty home.

Andy-The day after we came home from Guatemala

We were living in South Carolina by this time, attending a wonderful church, when missionaries came to visit. While the missionary was speaking in our Sunday School class, my thoughts were drifting miles away to the country he was serving. I was thinking, "I wonder if there are any babies who need a mommy and daddy?" So...after class, we posed this question to our missionary who delightedly said, "why yes, I know of a home for children, run by Larry and Claire Boggs. Let me give you their address." I took that piece of paper in my hand and couldn't get home fast enough and wrote the most important letter of my entire life...and waited.

Six weeks later, a thick envelope with the return address stamped from Guatemala appeared in my mailbox. With trembling hands, I tore into the most important letter I've ever received and began to read...and read...and read. Several pages of typed instructions later, I was overwhelmed.

After my meltdown, as I was lamenting, "how will we ever do all that needs to be done?"...my calm husband, took both my shoulders, turned me to face him and said, "Cindy, we'll do #1 and when we finish #1 we'll move on to #2 and when we finish that, we'll move on to #3. I think you get the picture. Almost nine months to the day of the missionaries' visit to our church, our little Andy was born in Guatemala and made me a momma for the first time. Less than two short years later, we were blessed with bundle number two.



Bailey at two years of age

What is your mountain? I've had many since that one, but I always return to that moment in my mind and my husband's words to me.



Andy and Beau-2013

              Do you have a dream in your life...something you want to do and you can't get started? Don't be like me and be defeated before you ever begin. Recently, I wanted to have a blog and just about let fear stand in the way. I took a baby step, thanks to a wonderful friend who invited me to a writers' conference. The mountain crumbled before my eyes.

God is the giver of all good gifts. I'm so thankful He taught me that lesson all those years ago and my gift was a baby boy, and eventually a baby girl.  Ironically though, we had to go to the top of a mountain to get him, but he was worth the climb. Sometimes, the climb makes the gift sweeter.

Whatever mountain you face, you don't have to face it alone. There is One that goes before you and walks with you on your journey. He said He will never leave you or forsake you. That's always been comforting for me...I hope it is for you.

Blessings from My Little Corner,
Cindy

Weaving A Legacy

I'm not new to writing but I am new to letting anyone READ my writing. Writers are their own worst critic and biggest fan, if that makes any sense. We know the heart and soul behind what we're trying to say. When I go back and read what I've written I often think I write too much about my past, but I think it's because I'm trying to make peace with it.


Logan County, West Virginia

I'm on my own personal journey you might say. A journey of healing and wholeness.

I've just returned from visiting family and old friends in my home state of West Virginia. I even made a visit to my mom's hometown to visit family and what a wonderful day it was.

There's just something about returning to the West Virginia mountains that brings out the little girl in me. A flood of memories washed over me as I made my way home through mountains and tunnels and valleys. Sometimes you see things through new eyes that cause you to pause and take notice.

God reminded me it's much like Biblical times where they built altars to remind future generations of all He had done for them. I want my children to know the blessings and the faithfulness of God to our family.

It's like a beautiful tapestry woven with different colors and blends. One day when it's turned over to reveal the finished masterpiece we'll see the perfect work of a loving God. Our tapestry won't look like anyone else's and that's what makes each one unique. We'll be able to recognize our family tapestry because of every tear shed, every battle won and lost, every moment spent together and every tragedy endured because the One who holds the world has knit us together to form our family, past, present and future.

I want my children to have this legacy to pass down to their children and so on...until the Father turns to the Son...

to be continued...

Blessings from My Little Corner,
Cindy

My Tribute...The Greatest Of These Is Love

There is a special woman who lives on a busy corner in West Virginia with a wonderful man by her side. Once upon a time many years ago that corner wasn't so busy and there was a beautiful woman who would push her baby in a stroller around that corner. At least that's what I've been told. You see, I was the baby in the stroller and the special woman who lives in the little house on the corner would come to know the beautiful woman pushing me.

The story never gets old to me...the first time she saw my mother pushing me in my stroller. It's a connection between the two most important women in my life and me. One gave birth to me and loved me until the age of fifteen and the other who took over from there.


They came to be best friends. Her name is Wilma. My mom's name was Juanita, but they called each other "Sally." As the story is told to me, Wilma says, "I had never laid eyes on a more beautiful woman, and because I lived on a corner, I went from window to window watching her walk around the corner." Well, what daughter doesn't want to hear how beautiful her mother is? Wilma said she had to meet this beauty and discovered she lived close by. A friendship was born. They eventually began attending the same church and grew very close.

The Bible says a lot about love and friendship. Jesus said, "Greater love has no one than this: to lay one's life down for one's friend." John 15:13 NIV Wilma is one of those people who doesn't like attention brought to herself...the mark of a humble servant of God. She answered the call in the deepest way a friend could possibly do, with a servant's heart.

My mom was diagnosed with breast cancer when I was five years old and my brother was only a baby. As close friends often do, Wilma was there for us. She cooked. She cleaned. She ironed my dad's shirts. She did whatever needed to be done...for ten years. Most friends would have wearied and fallen by the wayside, but she didn't. She was my mom's hands and feet when she couldn't care for her family. When my mom couldn't eat because of the horrible affects of chemotherapy, Wilma figured out what she could eat and made sure it was on the stove when she returned from her treatments. In the seventies, chemo wasn't readily available where we lived so she had to travel to Morgantown, West Virginia, which was four hours away. This caused an extra hardship for my dad who was already under a tremendous amount of stress. Her help was immeasurable.

Sadly, my mom lost her battle at 38 years of age, leaving behind a grieving husband, a 15 year old daughter and an 11 year old son.

My high school graduation

Wilma quietly stepped in to do whatever she could to help me. In the beginning, it was lunch at her house. I walked from my high school, one block, to the most scrumptious lunches, prepared by loving hands...every day. The commitment this took humbles me. She would slip money into my pocket, not much, just enough to get a Coke or a pair of hose for church. The most important thing she did was listen...and talk about my mom. She told me stories of their friendship, of their "Lucy and Ethel" moments. I got to know my mom as a woman. She was well and whole, not sick, in her stories. What a gift she gave me.

Andy, Wilma and Bailey at Mom's grave
Wilma has decorated her grave for 38 years

As that first Mother's Day approached...the first one I would live through as an orphan...for that is the way I have always viewed myself, I stood in a card shop weeping. Something caught my eye and I knew what I must do. The card read, "You're Like A Mother To Me"...and so since Mother's Day of 1975 I have honored this woman with a card, for she is worthy, and I know my mother would agree.

She has honored their friendship by doing what most people would only do for a couple of years but she has blessed me for 38 years. She and her equally wonderful husband have been there for me through all the stages of my life...graduation, marriage, babies, deaths, and everything in between. We have aged together. When I go home, it is to their home I return and they greet me with open arms. She even waited up for me when I was home last summer for my class reunion. Throughout the years, they have modeled for me and my family what marriage, faithfulness, contentment and a servant's heart are all about. There are no finer people, in my opinion, on any little corner, anywhere in the world.

They have a son, daughter-in-law, two grandsons and their wives, and two great-grandchildren that they adore and yet they've found room in their hearts for my children. I can't say enough good things about the love and respect their children, grandchildren, and the community have for them for they inspire greatness.

I'm so blessed she was looking out the window that day on her little corner. I can't imagine what my life would have been like without them in it.

Happy Mother's Day Wilma! I love you!

Blessings from My Little Corner to yours,
Cindy

P.S. I have searched and searched for pictures of the "Sally's" together but I don't have any. My mom didn't like her picture made. She thought she wasn't pretty anymore because of the affects of the chemo, so there are very few pictures of her. Sad isn't it? Wilma has some of them at a younger age but because this is a surprise I couldn't get them. Maybe when I'm home again I'll borrow them and post later. Happy Mother's Day everyone!

Hair Drying and Raising Children...

Drying my hair...that's when I'm most inspired to write. I don't know what it is about standing in front of a mirror with an appliance in my hand. Maybe it's the fact that I have a lot of hair and it takes a lot of time to dry, boredom sets in and my mind wanders. But inevitably, I'll think of the most interesting things to write about. So, I hurry the process along, get my legal pad and write as fast as my pencil will go. Yes, I write long handed, the method I prefer.

Today, for instance, I was thinking how unique we really are. That we each, from the time we begin toddling around, are searching for our place in the world. We're making decisions at a very early age about our likes and dislikes and forging our own path that will take us to where we'll one day be. I can look back on my children and their personalities at two and three years of age and see the same determination in them today. I can see the same likes and dislikes. A few things have changed but for the most part they've not strayed from their beginnings.

Many things will come into play to influence the outcome and we do have some control. I can remember a time in my own young life when I was in the first grade. I was walking to the bus stop early in the morning, which was just down at the end of the street. I was crying crocodile tears. The issue that ruined my morning and no doubt ruined my mom's morning? I didn't get to wear the dress I wanted to wear. I can remember it so clearly, I was heartbroken. I can remember walking just a little ways down the street, far enough away from my house, and stopping. My mom was still in the door telling me to go on to the bus stop. I was sobbing. I guess I thought maybe she would change her mind if she saw how upset I was. I tell you this to say I am STILL VERY particular in what I wear. I don't like to shop much, unless it's with a friend. I'm a very modest dresser so in this day and time it's difficult to find clothing I like. This is minor in light of what I want to talk about but hopefully you get my point. Those things that are in us that make us want to fit in are likely to be there as children and stay with us.We all want to fit in, be accepted, and loved. For me, it was as simple as wearing the dress I wanted in first grade. As I got older, the stakes got higher. I imagine it's the same for you too!

How many of us, of any age, think we have to have the right friends, the right house or wear the latest fashions to be accepted or loved? These things weren't as important to me as performing. I thought I had to be doing something. If someone asked me to do something I had to say "yes" or I thought they wouldn't like me. There were times I genuinely felt called to do certain things and I sure knew the difference once I got involved in something I wasn't supposed to be doing.

My heart is broken for our younger generations as I see them struggling to fit in. Many of them succumb to drugs and alcohol and even plastic surgery as teens to accomplish this. On the other hand, we don't give enough credit to the ones who stand strong on their principles, in their faith, and claim victory in the area of purity and abstinence. Many of our youth ministers are overworked and underpaid while trying to counteract the affects of a culture gone mad.

Families are torn apart because children see their parents very little, and when they do, they see them trying to live a lifestyle they can't afford, at the child's expense. They're sending a message that money is the main agenda.

So, they continue to ask the question, "where do I fit in?" to the wrong people. We as parents need to help them answer that question through solid, biblical council. The world wants to gobble them up and will find a way. It's our job to protect them.

Unfortunately, I didn't have this protection, since my mom died and my family kind fell apart. I know what I'm talking about. It taught me some valuable lessons that my husband and I incorporated into parenting our children. We've made our share of mistakes at parenting, but that's where grace is given freely, and if your children have seen a pattern through the years, they'll forgive.

I read a quote by Ann Voskamp, author of One Thousand Gifts, she said, "Busyness empties a soul." I think I would go on to say, "busyness empties a family." It takes away from spending quality time as well as quantity time with our children and teaching them to love themselves as God loves them and how to "fit in" anywhere they go, and with anyone they come into contact.

OK, so I'm finished preaching...this is something I care deeply about. It's taken me a lot of years to love myself for who God made me to be and to see myself as He sees me. I've asked Him to give me what He wants me to write and so when I dry my hair...well that's what I got for this post. So what does hair drying have to do with raising children? Not a thing, but maybe it got your attention! Maybe there's a child you know that's trying to find a place to fit in. We, as adults, have the answers for them...it can only be found in a Person, not things, but we have to lead the way.

Blessings from My Little Corner,
Cindy

p.s. Thanks for reading all the way to the end...it was longer than usual!

When the Nest Emptied...A Life Repurposed

Last year at this time I was wallowing in change. The empty nest had engulfed my home completely and I was in another pit of despair...another place of uncertainty.

My second born had moved out, but she visited often, especially the first year, spending nights at home so it didn't seem like she was gone. The second year was a little more difficult for she became a little more independent, and this was good. She needed this...she needed to spread her wings and see how far they would take her. And oh, they have taken her to heights I don't think she could have dreamed at her young age. Her daddy and I are so proud. She will finish her Masters in Education degree, in a couple of months with perfect grades thus far. Yes, we are proud!

Even though my children graduated from college at the same time, the poor job market kept my first born from finding a permanent job in his field of study. He wasn't able to move out when she did, so he was the buffer and delayed the onset of the official "Empty Nest." Eventually, he found an excellent job and began his move to independence.

Let me just tell you. I. Was. Not. Prepared. I thought I was handling it well. But something clicked inside me when he walked out with his Ingles bag of incidentals to spend the first night in his apartment. I know you're thinking I went to his room and bawled my eyes out, and you'd be right, but not completely...I also went to her room. I had a total meltdown for her...my baby. And for days after, I would go to their rooms and cry. It seemed life was over...my job was done...what more was there left for me to do?

My life had been devoted to my children since their adoption as babies. I saw them as gifts from God and poured everything I had into them. I was the mom whose hand went up when a volunteer was needed. My home was the one they brought their friends to socialize right on through college. When I dropped them off at school their last words to me were, "be the first one in line at pickup." So, don't you know I would arrange my day to be there for that, and a thousand other things. My husband was the same but men parent differently and, though he would miss them, he knew it was time.

But months later, deep in my soul, after God allowed me to wallow in myself, let my friends counsel me, sent me to Russia to learn to trust Him, He whispered into my heart..."what about Me? Now do you have time for Me? Have you ever thought to ask Me what I want you to do with the rest of your life?"

Once again He used the scripture, "For I know the plans I have for you, declares the Lord, plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future." Jeremiah 29:11 NIV

That got my attention and life has changed. He put me on a path of healing and wholeness, but it took getting still before Him and listening. He's given me a new purpose that reminds me daily there is life after the nest is empty. You happen to be reading one of the results of the change He's brought into my life. He can do the same for you. Seek Him for He wants to be found.

Blessings from My Little Corner,
Cindy

Motherhood 101

I was talking with my dear friend, Tina, recently (actually we were texting but you can have entire, meaningful conversations in a short amount of time) about our days as "stay at home" moms and all the many field trips and class parties we participated in with our children. We have been friends for a "coon's age" as I heard my parents say as I was growing up. We attended the same church and school, had the same friends, and have been there for each other for all the times of our lives.



Andy's first Easter

She was telling me about her youngest child going on a field trip to a barrier island off the coast of a neighboring state recently and that got us talking about our years as room mothers. Motherhood has many joys and especially being a "stay at home" mom, I got to experience many of the daily things that I wouldn't trade for all the tea in China.

First time holding Bailey

There was a time that being a mother was just a dream for me. Every little girl assumes she will grow up, get married, and have babies. That didn't happen for me, at least the baby part. After almost nine years of marriage and no babies, we went another route and chose adoption. We were blessed with two beautiful babies from Guatemala who were born 22 months apart. We got them both as babies so we were able to experience everything with them... and I mean everything. They have been the joy of my life.



Love at first sight

My husband asked me one time what my favorite holiday was and I said, "Mother's Day, of course." I think he understood. For many years though Mother's Day was painful. Not only could I not have children but I didn't have a mother for emotional support and guidance. She died when I was 15 years of age. Her death had robbed me of many of life's joys and now I was childless. Talk about wallowing in self pity. I didn't need a party with guests, I could have one all by myself. Anyone who's experienced infertility will understand my pain.

My story has a happy ending because adoption has been a wonderful blessing for my family. I can't imagine life any other way and know beyond a shadow of a doubt that God's plan for us was perfect and His timing was perfect.

As my friend and I were talking about all the school trips and parties we've shared together with our children, there are memories we will never forget...memories that bonded our friendship. Isn't that what life is made of? We're here for such a short time really. God places us in the family He chooses whether by birth or through adoption and then we pour our lives into these little ones until they're grown and ready to change the world...or maybe their little corner. We tuck them into bed, say prayers, go on field trips, pack lunches, send them off to the prom, then to college and then...it's time to let them go.

As I told my husband, my favorite holiday is Mother's Day because I can do all those things for my children...even let them go...but at the end of the day, I'm still their mom. When I was a little girl all I wanted to be when I grew up was a mommy. God heard my prayer.

Blessings,
Cindy

A Grandmother Writes

I was reminded recently of the Buffalo Creek flood disaster in Logan County, West Virginia that occurred in 1972. A friend from high school posted a link on Facebook on the anniversary of the tragedy, and I was immediately transported back in time to my childhood.

Both my parents grew up in Logan County, but my Mom actually lived in that part of the county. I can vividly remember how devastated she was, and as I often do, I went rummaging through family memorabilia. If you're like me, and most of your family has gone on to their heavenly reward, old pictures and letters become sacred. You handle them with utmost care, reading them, searching for hidden messages or meaning that probably wasn't intended...at least I do. OK, so I'm a little strange, I have a creative mind.

In my rummaging, I found a note my grandmother sent to me after I was married. She'd written it just after my bridal shower with some comments made about me from a former Sunday School teacher. So many thoughts went through my mind as I read the note again after many years. It was obvious she was proud of me and wanted to express it in her own simple way. How precious to me are her words, written in her handwriting.

She was a simple woman, yet a godly woman who loved me...that I know. I always thought I was her favorite and if every grandmother can make her grandchild feel that way then she's done her job well. She had lots of grandchildren for she had seven children so I'm sure she had several favorites. We lovingly called her Ma Bailey. Bailey was her last name from her first husband. Don Bailey was my mom's dad, who died when she was eighteen years of age. She'd just graduated from high school.

Ma Bailey knew loss, suffering and pain but she knew how to love. Her daughter, my mom, lost her battle with breast cancer at the age of 38. Ma Bailey was my connection to the mother I'd lost. She would stroke my hair and remind me how much my mom loved me and how much I looked like her. When I was a little girl, Sunday afternoons were kind of boring when we'd go visit, but now that my mom was gone the need to see her was all consuming. I was drawn to her touch, her voice, her presence. I honored her and my mother by naming my daughter, Bailey, for I was proud to have come from these two special women.

Some of my friends are at that time in their lives where they have grandchildren or are expecting grandchildren. I've watched them grandparent with such love and grace. What an awesome responsibility we're given. The wisdom we've gained as parents can be poured freely into the lives of these precious little ones through the time we spend on our knees interceding for them and our children.

The one thing I know is that my grandmother loved me and expressed her love through the written word. I have a tangible piece of her that I can say on this day she was thinking of me. Write to your children and your grandchildren. If photography is your gift, take pictures. Tell them you love them in words and photos. Make a scrapbook of your memories.  Your physical presence won't always be here but your written words will last long after you're gone.

One day when your little one is all grown up and rummaging through their drawer looking for something, they'll find a piece of you, a piece of their history that links them forever with you, and they'll know they were loved.


Blessings,
Cindy