Those that truly know me, know that I'm kind of introverted. I don't like to stand out in a group, I'm uncomfortable in certain social situations. I'm more comfortable if I have a job or a title. I'm a very vocal advocate for my patients under the RN title. I'm perfectly comfortable talking on the phone to a stranger if I'm acting as a secretary for Triple A Wood Co. However, when it comes down to being Heather Agee, I'm not so outgoing or vocal. I'd rather order online than talk to the Pizza Hut people. I perform at weddings, showers, funerals, etc on auto pilot and I need a couple hours to recover after I'm done. The only exception to my introversion is performance.
I love to sing. I've loved it my whole life. I feel that God gave me a gift and throughout my life I have tried to give Him the glory and share my talent as needed. I've always loved to sing in a choir. In my teenage days I was selected to serve in the Mississippi Baptist All State Youth Choir. We toured the south east over the course of a month and sang at various churches. It was an experience I will never forget.
After I married and became a mother, my priorities changed. I didn't want to commit to choir practices and cantatas. I felt I needed to be home with my babies. And I was home with them. I was so distracted with the mom life that I fell out of church service all together. A divorce and remarriage happened and I found myself and my new husband along with our now three children in a church setting once again. Soon after we joined our new church I was thrust into a leadership role. I was music director for a time at Oak Grove Baptist Church. We were too small to have a choir so it was mostly me leading the congregation in song. God has His way of getting you back to what He wants you to do.
After several sweet years at Oak Grove our family felt like it was time for a move. The first church we visited was Friendship Baptist Church in Vineland. We fell in love the first Sunday we were there. The people were so loving and friendly, the pastor's message was poignant and well thought out and gratefully received, but the music..... the music was spectacular.
This is where Harold Wayne Leonard comes in. Friendship Baptist Church's choir was wonderful but the piano behind it was what perked my ear. Our first Sunday there Harold Wayne played the most beautiful offeratory hymn I'd ever heard. I knew talent and he was surely talented.
I later learned that he had quite a legacy on his piano. Years of accompanying the Centurian gospel group had made him a local celebrity. You wouldn't have known that to talk to him. He was so humble about his talent. My father in law complemented him about a particularly heart rendering offeratory hymn one Sunday and he piously replied "Did it make you want to put a little bit more in the plate?" He was joking in his quiet way... but the truth is that it did make us want to put another dollar in the plate. His playing made you want to be a part of something. It made my family want to be a part of Friendship Baprist church. Harold Wayne's graceful piano playing was the bait and the rest of the Friendship family was the hook.
It took all of two weeks of regular attendance for Harold Wayne, along with others (Pauline, Stacey, Charlotte, Darron) to seek me out and recruit me for the Friendship Choir. We'd not even moved our letter before I was in the choir loft singing old southern gospel music with some of the most talented singers I've ever sung with. I think after the third week there we knew we were home and our family officially joined the church.
It was in the fall, and revival was fast approaching. Harold Wayne didn't skip a beat. He called and asked me to come to the "Playhouse" to practice some specials for revival. My introverted self balked. I didn't want to go. I didn't know these people that well. I went anyway. And God had a blessing for me out on that little farm in Vineland. Harold Wayne played and me and Joyce Vick and Jim Patrick sang hymn after hymn. Harold Wayne called it practicing but for me it was worship.
We had church in his little play house that night and I never for one second felt like a newcomer or an outsider. He and I were kindred spirits through music. We may have both been a little introverted in some situations but when it came to music we let our light shine. He'd be grinning at the piano in the fellowship hall and I would know he wanted me to sing a solo. He'd always play a new song for me on Sunday night and make sure I thought the choir would like it. He was my friend and I will miss him so.
But I'm not alone. He was a friend to so many. That was definitely evident today by the outpouring of love at his funeral service. I am so blessed to have known Harold Wayne Leonard. I thank him for pushing me back to serving the Lord through song and I will keep doing so in his memory. He will always be remembered by me.
Monday, August 7, 2017
Thursday, May 4, 2017
The Ballad of the Pink and Black Basketball
So... there was a pink and black basketball.
PawPaw Criswell gave Emily this pink and black basketball 3 years ago.
Emily never plays basketball. She's played with it (and the goal she got the same year) maybe 5 times in three years.
Emily has two brothers. Her brothers sometimes play basketball. More lately than ever... boys have phases.
Emily won't lend anyone her pink and black basketball. The boys think it's the best basketball we own.
So, one night Emily's brothers borrow her pink and black basketball without her permission to play with their friends in town.
Emily's pink and black basketball pops because there is a screwdriver sticking out of the goal post where the pin should be.
Emily's pink and black basketball is no more.
Emily's brothers come home in a panic. They tell Emily's mother that the pink and black basketball is no more.
She tells the brothers not to mention it. She will replace the ball with an identical ball in the morning.
Walmart no longer carries a pink and black basketball..
Brother #2 and Emily's mother purchase a black and white basketball.
We all decide not to say anything until Emily notices the pink and black basketball is missing.
That was over a week ago. She missed that ball tonight.
It was devastating. She was betrayed. Her entire family lied to her. She will never be the same. There will never ever be another ball like the black and pink basketball that Paw Paw gave her last year. Life is forever changed. It was an inconsolable hour and a half for Emily.
Rest In Peace pink and black basketball. You probably won't be missed but for tonight you were irreplaceable.
PawPaw Criswell gave Emily this pink and black basketball 3 years ago.
Emily never plays basketball. She's played with it (and the goal she got the same year) maybe 5 times in three years.
Emily has two brothers. Her brothers sometimes play basketball. More lately than ever... boys have phases.
Emily won't lend anyone her pink and black basketball. The boys think it's the best basketball we own.
So, one night Emily's brothers borrow her pink and black basketball without her permission to play with their friends in town.
Emily's pink and black basketball pops because there is a screwdriver sticking out of the goal post where the pin should be.
Emily's pink and black basketball is no more.
Emily's brothers come home in a panic. They tell Emily's mother that the pink and black basketball is no more.
She tells the brothers not to mention it. She will replace the ball with an identical ball in the morning.
Walmart no longer carries a pink and black basketball..
Brother #2 and Emily's mother purchase a black and white basketball.
We all decide not to say anything until Emily notices the pink and black basketball is missing.
That was over a week ago. She missed that ball tonight.
It was devastating. She was betrayed. Her entire family lied to her. She will never be the same. There will never ever be another ball like the black and pink basketball that Paw Paw gave her last year. Life is forever changed. It was an inconsolable hour and a half for Emily.
Rest In Peace pink and black basketball. You probably won't be missed but for tonight you were irreplaceable.
Thursday, April 13, 2017
She Was My "Aunt Brenda"
“Strength and honor are her clothing; She shall rejoice in time to come. She opens her mouth with wisdom, And on her tongue is the law of kindness. She watches over the ways of her household, And does not eat the bread of idleness. Her children rise up and call her blessed; Her husband also, and he praises her: “Many daughters have done well, But you excel them all.” Charm is deceitful and beauty is passing, But a woman who fears the LORD, she shall be praised. Give her of the fruit of her hands, And let her own works praise her in the gates.”
Proverbs 31:25-31
She was the type of woman who made you smile every time she opened her mouth. She was the life of the party and the one that understood how to respond when you were hurting. She was smart. She was feisty. She loved her family with a ferocity that I don't know if I've ever seen rivaled. She loved her high school sweetheart all her life. She was so proud of her daughter and son and never ran out of stories about their lives. She would send me the sweetest most encouraging messages about my struggles even when she was in the midst of her life's biggest turmoil. She was my mama's sister even though my mama was an only child.
She was your number one fan and your biggest ally. She knew her granddaughters were superstars and didn't mind telling you. She didn't want to ever miss a performance or ballgame. She made you feel like you could accomplish anything. She could rock and drink coffee for hours on end. She knew when to let you know what she thought and she knew when to keep her thoughts to herself. She was a warrior for her loved ones. She made regular everyday events feel special special. She had a laugh that made you laugh and a smile that made you smile. She'd hang wallpaper and not break one of her manicured nails.
She loved to make things festive. She had a flair for floral arrangements. She made Christmas a fun fancy formal event for her family and I've always been a little jealous that my family didn't do the same. She could sit for glamour shots with her girls one day and host an educational symposium the next. I can't think of one thing at which she ever failed. She made me the best cheeseburger I think I ever had one summer when I was a child.
She knew how to talk my mama down when my mama was mad at me. She knew how to put me in my place when I was mad at my mama. She loved me like a daughter. She was proud of me for making it when the odds were stacked against me. She loved to rock my babies when they were little and she always made time for them as they got older. She was the go to wedding planner, party planner, shower planner, etc. She cleaned my house when I was in the hospital with my first child. She helped me paint and hang wallpaper to get my house ready to move in for my second child. She never expected anything in return.
She took us to the pool when we were kids and packed a mean picnic lunch. She let us hang our heads out of the sunroof of her sporty little celica. She made me birthday cakes with real buttercream icing. She was my birthday buddy. She always made me feel good about myself, even in the darkest times of my life.
She buried her father and her sister and her brother. She understood that life was fragile. She knew when she started this battle with cancer that it would be the biggest war she ever fought. She fought with a strength and dignity and fierceness that I haven't seen in many people considering the severity of her diagnosis. She also knew when to call it quits. She knew she was going to be with Jesus. She wanted everyone else to know Jesus too. She was my "Aunt" Brenda and now she's gone and right now the world is a little less sparkly without her in it.
Monday, March 6, 2017
Best Friends for Life.... To Crystal and CJ
I'm feeling reminiscent about my life after reading a tribute to my son's friend he lost to cancer. He lost Hudson to cancer at a young age, I lost Crystal and CJ when I was young to a drunk driver.
Hudson Steele was lost when my son, Sam, was in the 7th grade. He battled brain cancer vailiantly and his classmates fought along his side. He will always be remembered by his friends. Sam will never forget Hudson. He remembers Hudson just as I will always remember Crystal. I feel like maybe God prepared me to teach my child how to deal with loss. I still wasn't completely ready but I did have a head's up on the rest of our class. That's all because of Crystal and CJ.
Hudson Steele was lost when my son, Sam, was in the 7th grade. He battled brain cancer vailiantly and his classmates fought along his side. He will always be remembered by his friends. Sam will never forget Hudson. He remembers Hudson just as I will always remember Crystal. I feel like maybe God prepared me to teach my child how to deal with loss. I still wasn't completely ready but I did have a head's up on the rest of our class. That's all because of Crystal and CJ.
When I was 11 years old my life changed unexpectedly. I was about to start 6th grade at a new and different school. I was nervous and excited at the same time. My best friend, Crystal was nervous and excited too. We were excited about "middle school" but were desperately worried about having to change classes for the first time.
Registration was tomorrow. I will always think of it like that. Registration was the day after Crystal died. For me there is life before Crystal and life after Crystal.
Back to life before Crystal died..... I was so excited and so was my best friend. We had talked about how nervous and excited we were at Sunday school the day before.We talked about who we would love to be in our classes and we talked about who we wanted to be our home room teachers. We desperately wanted to be in the same homeroom. We talked about buying our school supplies. I had a 3D bubble binder (it's funny the things you remember). She thought that was really cool (I had made a "friends" tab in that binder where I was going to write birthdays of all my friends... I'd already filled hers in, April 1.) We talked on the phone that afternoon as we got our school supplies in order. We were excited to officially have lockers and change classes. We were gonna do it together.
The very day that we talked about how nervous we were, she was taken from me. We left church that morning excited and happy and she left her house to go to church that evening and never went anywhere else.
She and her brother were never to go anywhere ever again because some guy got too drunk and decided to drive for another drink. He decided what he had was not enough and in the process it was decided that they were less than his buzz. Crystal and CJ deserved so much more. He went for another drink and decided that anyone on the road was less than he was. He decided that Crystal and CJ and their family wasn't important.
Crystal and her brother, CJ, were so much more than what that drunk driver thought they were. They deserved a chance at life and a drunk driver stole that from them. They deserved to be able to celebrate their 12th and 10th birthdays. They deserved to go on their first date. They deserved a first kiss. They deserved a prom. They deserved to graduate. They deserved to fall in love.They deserved to get married to the loves of their lives and have bunches of babies. They deserved it all. All of that was stolen in an instant by a man that couldn't even think for himself.
I deserved my best friend for the rest of my life. I deserved her annoying little brother who I loved just as much as I loved my own brother. Their parents deserved to see their children grow to adulthood. Crystal and CJ deserved to live a full and fulfilling life. Their friends and family deserved the chance to witness that long and happy life. Those lives were stolen from me and all their friends and family.
Today would have been CJ's 32nd birthday. I can imagine he would have had a family of his own by now. He was such a charmer. All of Crystal's friend's (me more than any) loved him dearly. He was a sweet talker even at his young age. He called me "Heaver" and I always loved him like a little brother.
Crystal was my best friend. She will always be my best friend. There isn't a day that passes that she isn't on my heart. I think of her every single day. I thought of her the day I got my first kiss. She was in my thoughts when I first fell in love. She was with me when I found out I was pregnant with my first child. I felt her presence when I felt my first heartache. She was there all along. She is still with me today. She influences my writing. She influences my song. She will always be in my thoughts. I will never forget my friend, Crystal Michelle. There's not been a day since she left this earth that she hasn't been with me. I know she's waiting for me when this earth is done with my body. She will always be my best friend.... no one has ever compared to her in the 23 years since she has been gone.
I will NEVER stop missing her or her brother. They will live through me forever and I hope that I make them proud of me. I miss them both so much.
This past weekend my child went to his first prom. She would have been there for me. She would have been the one that I sent pictures to. She would have been there from the time he was in diapers to the time I was helping him into his tux. She will always be there in my mind. I miss her so. I miss her smile. I miss the way she laughs. I miss the way she would look at me when she knew I was holding something back. I miss the way she would laugh out loud when she knew I was telling the truth. I will never forget her beautiful face. I will never forget her laugh. I will never forget her.
I won't forget CJ either. He wasn't there for the heart to heart's but he was there for the clubhouse's in the woods. He was there for the random basketball games. He was there for the MLB on old nintendo or to tell me how the Celtics were doing in the NBA. He was my best friend's little brother and I miss him too. Everyday. Today was his birthday. I know it was a great one in the arms of My savior. I can't wait to see him again and hear him say "We've been waiting for you, Heaver."
Until we meet again my best friends for life, my Crystal and my CJ. I love you still.
" Do not let your heart be troubled. You believe in God, believe also in me. My Father's house has many rooms, if it were not so, would I have told you that I am going to prepare a place for you? And, If I go and prepare a place for you, I will come back and take you to be with me that you also may be where I am." John 14:1-3
Wednesday, January 11, 2017
Sometimes, I take his boots off....
So, this past week there have been two blog posts that have sparked my interest. The first was by a man who's bloggy title claimed my wife divorced me because I left dishes by the sink. The second was by a woman from a drastically different point of view and can be viewed here. The second article implored women not to be a "butt hole" wife and to stop nagging their husbands about the little things. The former blog was written by a man and implored other men to pay attention to their wives needs. For instance, if it is important to your wife for you to put your dish in the dishwasher, the author implores you to do that lest you lose her. In contrast the "butt hole wife" has lost her husband to untimely death and in hindsight she implores other women NOT to fuss and nag about the simple things like clothes left in the floor or dishes left by the sink. Both authors of both blog-posts have valid points that are exaggerated by their individual situations of divorce and widowhood.
I happen to agree with both of the authors. This may be why I took his boots off tonight.
You see, I have been married for the majority of my adult life. The first marriage was forced and hard and young and it didn't last long despite my best efforts. I decided that whenever I married again I was going to be a better wife.
Being a better wife doesn't sacrifice my feminism. It doesn't make me "less"... in fact, i believe it makes me better. I know all the feminists are gonna roll their eyes at that one and that's ok. I take great joy in making my husband happy. I take pride in making his day better when he walks into the door. I don't bombard him with complaints about what is going wrong in my world. I greet him with a smile and ask him how his day has been. Because i'm there to listen to him he doesn't care if supper isn't ready yet. He doesn't care if the house isn't in perfect order. He sees me being there for him and because of that he is there for me. He understands my struggles as a stay at home mom and I understand his struggles as the sole provider for a family of five. We have each others back. We are a team. We work at this partnership together.
So, back to the original purpose of this post....
Occasionally he leaves clothes on the floor and occasionally he leaves a dish by the sink. He's not perfect. Sometimes I fuss about these things. But mostly I pick up the clothes and i put the dishes in the dish washer and I keep my mouth shut. This may enrage some of you, but I would like to remind you that you are not in my marriage and you do not live my life. For me, I clean up because he does all the work. I stay at home and i keep the house while he works sometimes 16 hour days and pays the bills. My situation and the situation of those blog authors are probably completely utterly different.
That is why it is so important not to let a blog post decide where you should be in your own marriage.
Marriage is a unique process shared between only you and your spouse and God. Nothing that you are going through should ever be subject to criticism from anyone besides yourself, your spouse and our God Almighty. If your spouse is nagging you excessively or making you feel inferior for not completing a specific task my best advice is to first off be upfront with your spouse. So many times do we bottle things up and grumble over the dishes or the clothes on the floor and never let our mates know until it bubbles over into an argument. Be honest with each other. If that doesn't help, seek the advice of a Christian Counselor. Do not give up on a marriage before you diligently seek God's help in the matter.
But before any of that happens.... take his boots off. He fell asleep in the recliner as you were getting the kids to bed and you tried to wake him up. He wouldn't wake up so you could storm off to bed, mad as heck, and leave him there to fend for himself. OR... you could take off his boots... cover him up with a warm blanket, kiss him on the cheek and tell him goodnight.
If leaving the dishes by the sink or leaving your clothes in the floor bothers her, make an effort to show her that you understand that it matters to her and do not do it anymore.
My whole rebuttal to both of those viral blog posts is that all you need to do is respect your spouse. God calls us to be submissive unto each other. Love for each other requires us to be permissible of each other. Our faults are to be accepted or lovingly corrected by our spouse. We should never nag or demean the other party into bowing into our will.
"Wives, submit yourselves unto your husband, as is fitting in the Lord. Husband's love your wives and do not be harsh with them." Colossians3:18-19
"Submit to one another out of reverence for Christ. Wives, submit to your own husbands as you do to the Lord. For the husband is the head of the wife as Christ is the head of the church, his body, of which He is the Saviour.Now as the church submits to Christ so also wives should submit to their husbands in everything." Ephesians 5:21-24
But WAIT there's more!
"Husbands love your wives just as Christ loved the church and gave himself up for her to make her holy, cleansing her by the washing with water through the word, and to present her to himself as a radiant church without stain or wrinkle or any other blemish, but holy and blameless. In this same way husbands ought to love their wives as their own bodies. He who loves his wife loves himself. After all no one ever hated their own body but they feed and care for their body just as Christ does for the Church." Ephesians 5:25-29
My point is that I care for my husband because God compels me to care for him. He cares for me because God compels him to care for me. I pick up his clothes if he happens to leave them on the floor without harsh words because that's what God wants me to do. He deals with my inefficiencies whatever they may be (and there are quite a few I assure you) with out harsh words because that's the husband God commands him to be. This works in our marriage. It keeps us strong when times are rough and it keeps us happy when times are sad.
I take his boots off because he is tired and because I love him. He'd take my boots off if the position was reversed. That's what makes a marriage happy.
I happen to agree with both of the authors. This may be why I took his boots off tonight.
You see, I have been married for the majority of my adult life. The first marriage was forced and hard and young and it didn't last long despite my best efforts. I decided that whenever I married again I was going to be a better wife.
Being a better wife doesn't sacrifice my feminism. It doesn't make me "less"... in fact, i believe it makes me better. I know all the feminists are gonna roll their eyes at that one and that's ok. I take great joy in making my husband happy. I take pride in making his day better when he walks into the door. I don't bombard him with complaints about what is going wrong in my world. I greet him with a smile and ask him how his day has been. Because i'm there to listen to him he doesn't care if supper isn't ready yet. He doesn't care if the house isn't in perfect order. He sees me being there for him and because of that he is there for me. He understands my struggles as a stay at home mom and I understand his struggles as the sole provider for a family of five. We have each others back. We are a team. We work at this partnership together.
So, back to the original purpose of this post....
Occasionally he leaves clothes on the floor and occasionally he leaves a dish by the sink. He's not perfect. Sometimes I fuss about these things. But mostly I pick up the clothes and i put the dishes in the dish washer and I keep my mouth shut. This may enrage some of you, but I would like to remind you that you are not in my marriage and you do not live my life. For me, I clean up because he does all the work. I stay at home and i keep the house while he works sometimes 16 hour days and pays the bills. My situation and the situation of those blog authors are probably completely utterly different.
That is why it is so important not to let a blog post decide where you should be in your own marriage.
Marriage is a unique process shared between only you and your spouse and God. Nothing that you are going through should ever be subject to criticism from anyone besides yourself, your spouse and our God Almighty. If your spouse is nagging you excessively or making you feel inferior for not completing a specific task my best advice is to first off be upfront with your spouse. So many times do we bottle things up and grumble over the dishes or the clothes on the floor and never let our mates know until it bubbles over into an argument. Be honest with each other. If that doesn't help, seek the advice of a Christian Counselor. Do not give up on a marriage before you diligently seek God's help in the matter.
But before any of that happens.... take his boots off. He fell asleep in the recliner as you were getting the kids to bed and you tried to wake him up. He wouldn't wake up so you could storm off to bed, mad as heck, and leave him there to fend for himself. OR... you could take off his boots... cover him up with a warm blanket, kiss him on the cheek and tell him goodnight.
If leaving the dishes by the sink or leaving your clothes in the floor bothers her, make an effort to show her that you understand that it matters to her and do not do it anymore.
My whole rebuttal to both of those viral blog posts is that all you need to do is respect your spouse. God calls us to be submissive unto each other. Love for each other requires us to be permissible of each other. Our faults are to be accepted or lovingly corrected by our spouse. We should never nag or demean the other party into bowing into our will.
"Wives, submit yourselves unto your husband, as is fitting in the Lord. Husband's love your wives and do not be harsh with them." Colossians3:18-19
"Submit to one another out of reverence for Christ. Wives, submit to your own husbands as you do to the Lord. For the husband is the head of the wife as Christ is the head of the church, his body, of which He is the Saviour.Now as the church submits to Christ so also wives should submit to their husbands in everything." Ephesians 5:21-24
But WAIT there's more!
"Husbands love your wives just as Christ loved the church and gave himself up for her to make her holy, cleansing her by the washing with water through the word, and to present her to himself as a radiant church without stain or wrinkle or any other blemish, but holy and blameless. In this same way husbands ought to love their wives as their own bodies. He who loves his wife loves himself. After all no one ever hated their own body but they feed and care for their body just as Christ does for the Church." Ephesians 5:25-29
My point is that I care for my husband because God compels me to care for him. He cares for me because God compels him to care for me. I pick up his clothes if he happens to leave them on the floor without harsh words because that's what God wants me to do. He deals with my inefficiencies whatever they may be (and there are quite a few I assure you) with out harsh words because that's the husband God commands him to be. This works in our marriage. It keeps us strong when times are rough and it keeps us happy when times are sad.
I take his boots off because he is tired and because I love him. He'd take my boots off if the position was reversed. That's what makes a marriage happy.
Thursday, January 5, 2017
ICE STORM OF '96 OR MAYBE '97, I CAN'T REMEMBER WHICH
It was 1996, I think. It could have been 1995 or 1997.... I'm not sure but I'm pretty sure it was 1996...
My sister Lisa was at East Central but she lived in the dorms.... it was her first year there so it was probably 1996.
Anyway, I was 13 or 14 and I vividly remember my mama filling up all the bathtubs with water before we went to bed. She also diligently filled up all the empty milk jugs that she always saved a few of, and the two liter coke bottles that were laying around the trash pile.I don't know if my mama was ever a girl scout, doubtful in rural Beulah Hubbard, but she should have been because she was and is always ready for severe weather...... especially WINTER weather.
So, I went to bed that night thinking my mother was crazy and that we would never have winter weather because it was Mississippi. We had just had a blizzard in March of 1993, there's no way we were gonna have more winter weather in 1996 ( or 1997 whichever it was...)...
I snuggled in my bed under my great grandmother's quilts and dreamed sweet dreams.....
I woke up around 5 am because someone was shooting fireworks outside my window.
I tip-toed into the living room and my daddy was nursing a fire in the wood burning electric insert fireplace. It was dark, but I chalked that up to it being 5am. Daddy explained to me that the fireworks I was hearing was the tops breaking out of the pines that surrounded our house. He was sitting in the dark nursing the insert because the power was out thanks to the ice accumulation on the power lines. I must have dozed back off after that because the next thing i remember is my excited mother waking us up to see the winter wonderland that very rarely came to Mississippi.
My brother and I snuggled ourselves up in hoodies and coats and socks on our hands (because no one in MS has winter gloves or mittens) and boots and trudged out side in the icy weather. We slipped and we jumped and we licked icicles off the bushes.We talked Daddy in to knocking one of the especially long icicles off the eve of the house. He did it with a groan and a grin and we got Mama to put it in the freezer.
That night was interesting. We had gone without power all day. We'd been fine because we had been outside and around the fireplace and etc. That night we realized our beds were cold. The water was out because the generator at the water pump was out (mama had planned ahead for that because she had filled the tubs, and milk jugs and coke bottles with water). We all brought blankets and mattresses into the living room and my little brother, my older sisters, my grandmother (did i mention she lived with us too?) my mother, and my father all slept in the living room together. I thought it was awesome... this was the end of Day 1.
Day 2 we woke up to the smell of bacon. Daddy was cooking on the old coleman propane camp stove. The only problem was that Mama wouldn't let him use the stove in the house because of carbon monoxide or whatever. So by the time that glorious bacon got to the kitchen it was cold as ice. It was about 8 degrees outside. So we ate cold bacon and eggs for breakfast on day 2.
We spent Day 2 in and out of the house. The fire was always burning in the insert, even without electricity. We occupied ourselves with games like "I Spy" or "My Ship Goes Sailing". We were warm enough and our bellies were full and there was lots of ice out side/ We were happy regardless.
But...... then there was a WHOOSH. and the WHOOSH was followed by a ROOOOOAAAARRRSSSSHHH/....
my mother says, "Allen, I think the chimney might be on fire."
my daddy says, "Nah, the chimney's not on fire"
we hear another "whoosh"
daddy goes out side.
daddy yells, "the chimney's on fire!"
The phone is out because we have telephone lines in the air at this time.
The water is out because the power shut down the generator.
The power is out because,,, well it's always been out
There are no cell phones in 1996.
Daddy locates a ladder really fast..... he yells for mama to bring water.
MAMA CAUGHT UP GALLONS OF WATER BEFORE THE STORM!!!!
So the Harrison Children bucket brigade the coke bottles of water up the ladder to Daddy who pours them down the chimney to put out the chimney fire.
Daddy calls Papaw and Uncle Barry to help him remove the electric fireplace insert from the fireplace.
Thus ends day 2.
DAY 3:
It's cold despite the newly liberated fireplace.
The shampoo is frozen and we are all very tired of each other in the living room.
My room was like an ice box but still it was better than being with all of my family 24 hours a day.
But out of the blue my other sister and her boyfriend came to the rescue. He came with a gas heater and she came with the promise that her dorm room had hot water and power.
I rode with my sisters to Decatur with more anticipation than I've ever felt since. My hair was greasy and the cold sponge baths only did so much. The shower that I took that day in the EC dorms was the greatest shower of my life. I had to shampoo twice because my hair was just that gross. It was heavenly.
We all loaded back up and spent one more night in our living room commune. It wasn't so bad that night because we were clean and had extra heat.
Day 4 the power came back. We all retreated back to our rooms and were happy to be back to normal.
I dare say we were a little sad to be back to normal....
*this is my best recollection of these events.... i'm sure my mom, dad and sisters have a more accurate description of the ice storm of 96.... this is my best recollection, take it as you will.
My sister Lisa was at East Central but she lived in the dorms.... it was her first year there so it was probably 1996.
Anyway, I was 13 or 14 and I vividly remember my mama filling up all the bathtubs with water before we went to bed. She also diligently filled up all the empty milk jugs that she always saved a few of, and the two liter coke bottles that were laying around the trash pile.I don't know if my mama was ever a girl scout, doubtful in rural Beulah Hubbard, but she should have been because she was and is always ready for severe weather...... especially WINTER weather.
So, I went to bed that night thinking my mother was crazy and that we would never have winter weather because it was Mississippi. We had just had a blizzard in March of 1993, there's no way we were gonna have more winter weather in 1996 ( or 1997 whichever it was...)...
I snuggled in my bed under my great grandmother's quilts and dreamed sweet dreams.....
I woke up around 5 am because someone was shooting fireworks outside my window.
I tip-toed into the living room and my daddy was nursing a fire in the wood burning electric insert fireplace. It was dark, but I chalked that up to it being 5am. Daddy explained to me that the fireworks I was hearing was the tops breaking out of the pines that surrounded our house. He was sitting in the dark nursing the insert because the power was out thanks to the ice accumulation on the power lines. I must have dozed back off after that because the next thing i remember is my excited mother waking us up to see the winter wonderland that very rarely came to Mississippi.
My brother and I snuggled ourselves up in hoodies and coats and socks on our hands (because no one in MS has winter gloves or mittens) and boots and trudged out side in the icy weather. We slipped and we jumped and we licked icicles off the bushes.We talked Daddy in to knocking one of the especially long icicles off the eve of the house. He did it with a groan and a grin and we got Mama to put it in the freezer.
That night was interesting. We had gone without power all day. We'd been fine because we had been outside and around the fireplace and etc. That night we realized our beds were cold. The water was out because the generator at the water pump was out (mama had planned ahead for that because she had filled the tubs, and milk jugs and coke bottles with water). We all brought blankets and mattresses into the living room and my little brother, my older sisters, my grandmother (did i mention she lived with us too?) my mother, and my father all slept in the living room together. I thought it was awesome... this was the end of Day 1.
Day 2 we woke up to the smell of bacon. Daddy was cooking on the old coleman propane camp stove. The only problem was that Mama wouldn't let him use the stove in the house because of carbon monoxide or whatever. So by the time that glorious bacon got to the kitchen it was cold as ice. It was about 8 degrees outside. So we ate cold bacon and eggs for breakfast on day 2.
We spent Day 2 in and out of the house. The fire was always burning in the insert, even without electricity. We occupied ourselves with games like "I Spy" or "My Ship Goes Sailing". We were warm enough and our bellies were full and there was lots of ice out side/ We were happy regardless.
But...... then there was a WHOOSH. and the WHOOSH was followed by a ROOOOOAAAARRRSSSSHHH/....
my mother says, "Allen, I think the chimney might be on fire."
my daddy says, "Nah, the chimney's not on fire"
we hear another "whoosh"
daddy goes out side.
daddy yells, "the chimney's on fire!"
The phone is out because we have telephone lines in the air at this time.
The water is out because the power shut down the generator.
The power is out because,,, well it's always been out
There are no cell phones in 1996.
Daddy locates a ladder really fast..... he yells for mama to bring water.
MAMA CAUGHT UP GALLONS OF WATER BEFORE THE STORM!!!!
So the Harrison Children bucket brigade the coke bottles of water up the ladder to Daddy who pours them down the chimney to put out the chimney fire.
Daddy calls Papaw and Uncle Barry to help him remove the electric fireplace insert from the fireplace.
Thus ends day 2.
DAY 3:
It's cold despite the newly liberated fireplace.
The shampoo is frozen and we are all very tired of each other in the living room.
My room was like an ice box but still it was better than being with all of my family 24 hours a day.
But out of the blue my other sister and her boyfriend came to the rescue. He came with a gas heater and she came with the promise that her dorm room had hot water and power.
I rode with my sisters to Decatur with more anticipation than I've ever felt since. My hair was greasy and the cold sponge baths only did so much. The shower that I took that day in the EC dorms was the greatest shower of my life. I had to shampoo twice because my hair was just that gross. It was heavenly.
We all loaded back up and spent one more night in our living room commune. It wasn't so bad that night because we were clean and had extra heat.
Day 4 the power came back. We all retreated back to our rooms and were happy to be back to normal.
I dare say we were a little sad to be back to normal....
*this is my best recollection of these events.... i'm sure my mom, dad and sisters have a more accurate description of the ice storm of 96.... this is my best recollection, take it as you will.
Saturday, August 20, 2016
Ten years and 160 pounds of Wisdom
So tonight I was scrolling through Facebook as I often do on a boring, stay-home Saturday night, and I come across an article from one of the news outlets that I subscribe to. The article was titled, "10 things I've learned after Extreme Weight Loss". Of course I clicked on it. I was expecting a story that reflected my own weight loss journey. What I found was a condescending twenty something that had no idea what she was talking about.
Maybe I'm being harsh. If I am, it is because I was that girl when I was 24. I lost 100 pounds in my 24th year. The Atkins craze had taken the nation by storm and I was equipped with a bitter divorce under my belt. I had the motivation and the means to lose five stone. It happened and I rode that coaster for a couple of years. It was wonderful. But life went on and I remarried and had another baby and reverted to my old habits. This girl that wrote this article writes about being single and avoiding the weight loss subject with dates. She/s in for a rude awakening when marriage and baby comes her way.
Or maybe she isn't. I hope to goodness she continues on her path to healthy living. The thing that bothered me is how much she focused in her article about how others perceived her and how men especially treated her differently. I see that in my life now that I've lost weight but it doesn't define me. What makes me feel good now is what I see in MY mirror. Not what others see when they look at me. I, frankly, do not give a damn what anyone else sees when they look at me. I know how my body feels and I know how much work I've done in the gym. I know I'm on the right path. I don't care what anyone else thinks about my size.
She was also very vocal about how she achieved her weight loss "on her own" without drastic measures such as bariatric surgery or fad diets. She said it as if the two go hand in hand. As if having one's stomach surgically altered was as simple as subscribing to a boxed meal service such as nutrisystem. I've got news for this young lady. I lost 100 pounds when I was your age. I gained 150 pounds back. Talk to me when you are 35 and you have a few kids out of that uterus. It's different. You won't be so smug about weight loss surgery when you have tried every "diet" and exercise program under the sun but you still only yo-yo through the same 30-40 pounds. It's especially frustrating when you have 80 or 100 to lose. The fourth decade of life is a monster. It doesn't allow you to just "decide" to lose weight. The fourth decade requires you to WORK for your weight loss. And even that may not be enough... some times it requires surgical intervention.
And there is NOTHING WRONG with surgical intervention. NOTHING! It's a step that you take when you feel like you are totally hopeless. Surgery is a step that you take when you have tried EVERYTHING with out reward. Surgery is a step that you take when you realize that you are going to die from this disease called obesity. It is not a step you take lightly. It is a step that you cry about the night before surgery because you fear that you may not see your children again. But it's also a step that you take so that you WILL have many more happy days with your children. It is a step that you take to promise your kids that there will be no more days of mommy on the couch; no more days where mommy asks you to bring her stuff because she's to heavy and lazy to get up and get it herself. No more days where mommy sits back and watches you play instead of getting up and playing with you.
The girl talked about dating and hiding her weight loss from prospective mates. She is wrong. I was totally up front with my husband about my struggles with my weight. He married me knowing that I was a recovering fat girl. He stayed with me when my struggles became reality. He supported all of my diet and exercise struggles. He was by my side after all of my failures. He fully supported me when I decided that surgery was my best hope at beating this disease. He encouraged me when I regretted my decision, he rejoices with me when I celebrate my victories. He might not feel the same had I pretended that I was never fat before we met. I don't know, maybe he would have. But that's not a chance I was ever going to take with a potential life partner. He deserved to know all of me.... the bad and the good, the fat and the skinny. And he accepted me regardless.
I wish I could reach out to this young lady. I would like to congratulate her on her journey so far. Losing 100 pounds is a monumental achievement regardless of whether you do it with surgery or without. I wish I could counsel her on how to deal with her food issues in a healthy way that would prevent her from falling back into her old habits like I did. Mostly, I would counsel her to be supportive of anyone on this weight loss journey. No matter how you get to your goal you are working toward being a better person. There is no shame in your game be it surgery, or nutrisystem, or weight watchers, or a personal trainer. It's all about beating this food addiction and becoming healthy again. I wish I could teach her how important it is for other people to hear positive reinforcement rather than scoldings for not doing the weight loss in the way that she believes to be the "right way".
I wish I could introduce her to 24 year old Heather, and then fast forward to 34 year old Heather... The 34 year old that was trapped under almost 200 pounds of flab. I don't think she would ever understand the emotions and struggles that went into the decision for that Heather to go to a weight loss surgery clinic. You never know until you have been there. I would tell her not to judge a book she has yet to read.
Maybe I'm being harsh. If I am, it is because I was that girl when I was 24. I lost 100 pounds in my 24th year. The Atkins craze had taken the nation by storm and I was equipped with a bitter divorce under my belt. I had the motivation and the means to lose five stone. It happened and I rode that coaster for a couple of years. It was wonderful. But life went on and I remarried and had another baby and reverted to my old habits. This girl that wrote this article writes about being single and avoiding the weight loss subject with dates. She/s in for a rude awakening when marriage and baby comes her way.
Or maybe she isn't. I hope to goodness she continues on her path to healthy living. The thing that bothered me is how much she focused in her article about how others perceived her and how men especially treated her differently. I see that in my life now that I've lost weight but it doesn't define me. What makes me feel good now is what I see in MY mirror. Not what others see when they look at me. I, frankly, do not give a damn what anyone else sees when they look at me. I know how my body feels and I know how much work I've done in the gym. I know I'm on the right path. I don't care what anyone else thinks about my size.
She was also very vocal about how she achieved her weight loss "on her own" without drastic measures such as bariatric surgery or fad diets. She said it as if the two go hand in hand. As if having one's stomach surgically altered was as simple as subscribing to a boxed meal service such as nutrisystem. I've got news for this young lady. I lost 100 pounds when I was your age. I gained 150 pounds back. Talk to me when you are 35 and you have a few kids out of that uterus. It's different. You won't be so smug about weight loss surgery when you have tried every "diet" and exercise program under the sun but you still only yo-yo through the same 30-40 pounds. It's especially frustrating when you have 80 or 100 to lose. The fourth decade of life is a monster. It doesn't allow you to just "decide" to lose weight. The fourth decade requires you to WORK for your weight loss. And even that may not be enough... some times it requires surgical intervention.
And there is NOTHING WRONG with surgical intervention. NOTHING! It's a step that you take when you feel like you are totally hopeless. Surgery is a step that you take when you have tried EVERYTHING with out reward. Surgery is a step that you take when you realize that you are going to die from this disease called obesity. It is not a step you take lightly. It is a step that you cry about the night before surgery because you fear that you may not see your children again. But it's also a step that you take so that you WILL have many more happy days with your children. It is a step that you take to promise your kids that there will be no more days of mommy on the couch; no more days where mommy asks you to bring her stuff because she's to heavy and lazy to get up and get it herself. No more days where mommy sits back and watches you play instead of getting up and playing with you.
The girl talked about dating and hiding her weight loss from prospective mates. She is wrong. I was totally up front with my husband about my struggles with my weight. He married me knowing that I was a recovering fat girl. He stayed with me when my struggles became reality. He supported all of my diet and exercise struggles. He was by my side after all of my failures. He fully supported me when I decided that surgery was my best hope at beating this disease. He encouraged me when I regretted my decision, he rejoices with me when I celebrate my victories. He might not feel the same had I pretended that I was never fat before we met. I don't know, maybe he would have. But that's not a chance I was ever going to take with a potential life partner. He deserved to know all of me.... the bad and the good, the fat and the skinny. And he accepted me regardless.
I wish I could reach out to this young lady. I would like to congratulate her on her journey so far. Losing 100 pounds is a monumental achievement regardless of whether you do it with surgery or without. I wish I could counsel her on how to deal with her food issues in a healthy way that would prevent her from falling back into her old habits like I did. Mostly, I would counsel her to be supportive of anyone on this weight loss journey. No matter how you get to your goal you are working toward being a better person. There is no shame in your game be it surgery, or nutrisystem, or weight watchers, or a personal trainer. It's all about beating this food addiction and becoming healthy again. I wish I could teach her how important it is for other people to hear positive reinforcement rather than scoldings for not doing the weight loss in the way that she believes to be the "right way".
I wish I could introduce her to 24 year old Heather, and then fast forward to 34 year old Heather... The 34 year old that was trapped under almost 200 pounds of flab. I don't think she would ever understand the emotions and struggles that went into the decision for that Heather to go to a weight loss surgery clinic. You never know until you have been there. I would tell her not to judge a book she has yet to read.
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