A REMINDER OF GOD'S PLANNING

Again, this morning, God reminded me of how He has planned my life; how He has woven a remarkable web of life threads throughout it -- from the beginning.  

Due to many activities of the late 1960s, my parents chose to send me to David Lipscomb Elementary School in 1970.  I am a "Lipscomb Lifer," meaning I went all twelve years to school there -- grade 1 - grade 12.  I also continued my undergraduate education across the campus.  During my time at Lipscomb, I knew, but not well, a girl named Emily.  She was a year a head of me.  We were never close in school at all.  We had many mutual friends, but we just did not run in the same circles. 

Fast forward two (+) decades into the wonderful world of Facebook.  In about 2009, Emily and I reconnected over FB just about the time that she was losing her precious mom.  I had lost my own mother in 2006, so that became an instant bond.  Grief.  We exchanged numerous messages, and the friendship began to grow.  

Emily and her family were just about as nutty over country music as our family, and so we began making summer memories for several years at the CMA Fest.  All of our children were young, and I think Emily and I did plenty to embarrass them through the years.  (That's what moms are for!) During this time, I learned to love Emily's niece, Meredith.  Meredith is always the life of the party, and her family became like family to us.  

Over the past few years, we haven't gotten to see each other as often.  Our summer CMA festivals went on hiatus, children grew up and went to college, and life simply took us in different directions.  But . . . the foundation of those relationships is solid, and remains so.  

Yesterday, I got a call from Meredith.  It was so good to hear from her.  She was calling on a specific mission.  One of her good friends need information from the special needs arena.  A good friend of Meredith's and her husband have recently been thrust into a situation of caring for an adult sibling with special needs.  This occurred as the result of the death of her father in law.  Obviously, she was overwhelmed with where to turn, whom to talk to, and what to do.  Meredith said that she just knew I could help.  I asked Meredith to have her friend call me today.  

As a parent of an adult child with special needs, my heart broke for this young couple.  Jeff and I had years to plan for Katie's future.  So, I prayed.  I prayed for God to guide me with the right words.  I prayed for God to put on my heart the correct resources to give this sweet young woman.  I prayed His Spirit to give me wisdom and perspective. 

So, this morning, I was honored to have a long conversation with this young woman.  What a treasure.  She was so loving and concerned that she and her husband were going to do what was best for his sister.  Just in talking with her, I felt God in our midst.  

We exchanged a lot of information, including pictures of our special needs loved ones. THIS WAS THE KICKER.  This precious young woman with special needs was also classmate of Katie's in high school.  They are the same age, and they were really good buddies in school.   

Coincidence?  God does not cause coincidences.  He plans, and His plans are perfect.  I am again thankful for the reminder today.  

Peanut Butter Balls -- A SWEET Christmas Memory

 My sweet mother in law was truly the sweetest woman I've ever known.  Hazel Harper Sweet truly lived up to her last name in every way during her 87 years on this earth.  She was small in stature but a giant in integrity, kindness and compassion for others.  She taught me so very much in our relationship, and there's not a day that goes by that I don't miss her terribly. 

Tonight, as I re-created her famous peanut butter balls -- a holiday tradition in her home, and now in our home -- I recalled, with a chuckle, a precious holiday memory surrounding this delicacy.  Holidays at Hazel's were a magical event that largely took place in her kitchen.  She was a wonderful cook, and she showed her family love in that way.  She never had a lot of monetary wealth in this life, but she was rich in so many other ways -- ways that truly mattered.  She always made you feel like you were the most important person in the world, and, in her world, you really were. 

In around 2000 or 2001, we were visiting North Carolina for Christmas.  We had been there several days, and Mrs. Sweet was in full, Christmas-baking mode -- Moravian ginger cookies, coconut pies, Amish friendship cakes, and yes, peanut butter balls.  

Conner was about four years old, and he had quickly become addicted to the chocolatey goodness of the treats.  He would've eaten a whole bucket of them, if we had let him.  We would try to limit him to two or three because they were soooooo very rich!  

This particular day, Jeff and I had some last minute Santa duties to finish up, so we left Katie, Colton and  Conner at home with Granny and Paw-Paw Sweet.  Colton was always content to sit and work on puzzles with Paw-Paw.  Katie was usually happy watching television or playing with Granny.  But Conner was the baby, and he had a way of getting his way.  

Granny had given in and allowed him to have more peanut butter balls, but she finally reached her limit, and put them away in the refrigerator in her favorite storage containers - an old, Cool-Whip tub.  (When she passed away, there were literally a hundred of these tubs in her pantry!)  As she put them away, she  told Conner that he could have more later.  Well, Conner had other plans. 

Granny Sweet went back to the bedroom to do something, so Conner recruited Katie to help him retrieve more peanut butter balls.  He was smart enough to know that Granny had stored them in a Cool-Whip tub; however, he didn't know that there were probably five other identical tubs in the fridge.  When little Bonnie and Clyde grabbed the container to heist Granny's candy stash, little did they know that they had accidentally chosen her Cool-Whip tub of chicken frying oil.  What a shock Conner got when he opened the lid, and the greasy container slipped from his little fingertips, flinging grease and oil all over him, his sister and the kitchen floor.  

Granny, hearing the commotion, ran into the kitchen to see Conner and Katie covered in grease and oil, and slipping all over the floor.  What an absolute mess!  But, being the wonderful Granny that she was, she didn't get upset.  She didn't fuss, yell or spank, like their momma would have done.  She just laughed.  And laughed, and laughed.  She was still laughing when Jeff and I arrived home, after she had bathed both children and was mopping the greasy floor.  

When Jeff and I began to be upset, she quietly said, "Now, just stop it.  The little fellow just wanted some candy."  And, that was that.  Conner claimed that it was all "Tatie's" (he couldn't pronounce the "K") idea, and no one could ever get mad at those sweet little brown eyes!  

My mother in law taught me a lot that day.  She taught me that laughter is always better than anger.  She taught me that children are going to mess up.  She taught me that children are only little for a short time, and that time is truly a gift.  She taught me not to sweat the small stuff -- even when the small stuff was a greasy mess.

So, tonight, as I made this year's batch of peanut butter balls, there were no small children in my kitchen trying to sneak some candy.  Those children are now grown, and this mother truly misses those days gone by.  But, there was the memory of a special lady that I love so much, and that taught me so very much!  There are no doubt going to be peanut butter balls in heaven, along with those people who have meant so very much to us!  Merry Christmas!  

"Bless His Heart" -- A Lesson Learned Over Chips & Salsa

Tonight i had a rare opportunity to have a mom/son supper with my youngest.  Jeff was working out of town, so Conner opted for us to grab a quick meal at Chili’s.  We were seated quickly at a table in the bar seating area.  I excused myself to go to the restroom, as Conner began perusing the menu.  After washing my hands and adjusting my mask, I started back to the table.  Literally everyone in the restaurant was on their feet, pointing and looking out the window.  As I got closer, I saw that everyone in the bar area was also stretching their necks toward the parking lot.  

As I sat back down, Conner explained that a gentemen had evidently had too much to drink.  He had staggered and fallen as he left his seat at the bar.  Other people were commenting that he had fallen several times in the parking lot on the way to his car.  The restaurant management had contracted the police for fear that he might try to drive away in his apparently impaired condition.  

The man made it to his car, and he just sat there.  Again, almost everyone in the restaurant made their way to the windows to watch the man.  The police eventually got there, and it appeared that the man had called someone to come pick him up  The police talked with him for a good while, and they did not leave until his ride arrived.   It was evident that the man was embarrassed.  He had made some bad choices, and it seemed as if “the whole world” (or at least all of Chili’s) was watching.  

As I reflected back on this later, I thought about the attitudes and actions of many of the restaurant patrons, servers and staff.  They were all sharing stories of how this man had sat at the bar for several hours; how he had been “cut off” from ordering more drinks; how he needed to be arrested; how “his butt was going to jail: and how “he was in big trouble now.”  

I also reflected on the comments and attitudes of my son, and how they really differed from the majority of folks there  As Conner told me about what had happened during my trip to the bathroom, he was quiet and nonjudgmental.  He simply said that the poor fellow had evidently had too much to drink, and he had fallen.  In true Southern fashion, Conner said, “Bless his heart.”  He went on to say how sad that man must be to sit at a bar, alone, all afternoon.  He commented on how so many have lost hope during this pandemic.  He commented on how mental illness was becoming so much more prevalent due to the never-ending issues of COVID-19, and how maybe this man was self-medicating.  Of course, Conner didn’t know the man’s story, but he had COMPASSION.  We talked about the fact that we did not know this man’s story, and “there but for the grace of God, go I.”  

I couldn’t help but to think of Jesus and those around Him as He was in His final hours on this earth.  How people around Him hurled accusations and judgments.  How His closest friends denied Him and left Him to face His fate all alone.  Of course, there were those who showed Jesus some COMPASSION.  Simon of Cyrene carried the cross for Him when our Lord stumbled.  A soldier gave Jesus vinegar with gall, when He asked for water.  John agreed to care for Mary, the mother of Jesus, as his own mother.  Joseph of Arimathea gave Jesus his tomb for burial.  But MOST people had no COMPASSION — only judgment and ridicule.  

The lesson I learned from our experience at Chili’s is this: I want to be like my son.  I want to be compassionate and nonjudmental.  I want to look for the best in everyone, even at their worst moments.  I want to “bless people’s hearts.”  The Bible talks about “older” people teaching “younger” people with our vast knowledge and life experiences.  Well, tonight, my young 23 year-old son taught his 56 year-old momma a few things!