The Tooth Fairy Strikes Again

We were driving home from a school choir concert in Decatur. I was in the fifth grade and a select few of us had been picked to sing at the chamber of commerce Christmas dinner. I was feeling pretty euphoric after my performance. Christmas music was playing on the radio in the station wagon and my Daddy was taking me home. Santa Claus is Coming to Town was just wrapping up on the radio and my daddy looks at me and says, “I know Christmas will be different for you this year since you know about Santa.” I looked at him and smiled and said “yes sir.” He told me not to tell my brother. I wasn’t going to. We left it at that and a tear fell down my right cheek as I rode the rest of the way home with Christmas music softly playing in the background.

I was in the fifth grade. I knew. Of course I knew! But for some reason hearing my daddy confirm to me that Santa wasn’t real busted a big ole hole in my tender little heart.

 I had found a tiny envelope with a few teeth in my mother’s chest of drawers the summer before my fifth grade year and it dawned on me then that the tooth fairy wasn’t all she was cracked up to be. I didn’t have a big love for the tooth fairy anyway. A magical creature that sneaks into your bedroom at night to harvest your discarded body parts is just creepy with a capital K. I found the teeth and I knew immediately about the tooth fairy. The rest happened in stages. I dismissed the Easter Bunny next. I mean a bunny that hides eggs seems a little off on a good day. I didn’t say anything though.

Santa fell harder. Santa Claus was Christmas. All of the grown ups wore shirts that said “I believe” you don’t see people walking around in tooth fairy shirts! The “if you stop believing he will stop coming” mantra rolled over and over in my head.

My Grannie told me a story about seeing Santa in real life when she was a kid every year. She was asleep on the couch because she had a fever and she woke up when Santa came. My Grannie would never lie to me.

In the fourth grade a little girl from a less privileged household told me Santa wasn’t real. I told maybe Santa stopped coming to her house because she quit believing and because Santa don’t like ugly and she was acting ugly. I was totally convinced that she was wrong and I was right. My faith was strong. I still feel bad about that today.

I knew the truth when my Daddy said what he said. I had known it for a while... but, hearing him confirm it broke my heart. I cried and cried when I got back home that night. I knew something had changed. I knew there was something about Christmas that I would never get back. That child like excitement, that belief in magic without seeing was gone. That made me sad. I mourned my childhood for a few days but then what my daddy said sunk in. “You’ve got to keep the secret now. Don’t tell your brother.”

I realized then that it was my responsibility to keep my brother believing in the magic. It was up to me to make his Christmas magical. I was in on the big conspiracy now and I had responsibilities. That realization softened the blow a bit.

When I had children of course I propagated the same delusions. It was fun when they were little. The tooth fairy was never my favorite. Too much stress with her. At least Santa only comes one night a year. And he leaves presents in a separate room and doesn’t bother anyone. That damned tooth fairy makes being a parent hard work.

One by one they figured it out. I always told each of them by their fifth grade Christmas. Sam was first and he took it like a champ. He was always wise for his age though. I think he had had it figured out for a while hefore I let him know. Nolan was next after the tooth fairy had forgotten to get his tooth FOUR days in a row. (Mom of the year here!) He was harder than Sam because he didn’t lump them all together right away. The tooth fairy isn’t real, yes, but what about the Easter bunny? What about Santa??? What about snoopy (our elf)???? That was hard on this mama.

Today I told my baby girl. The tooth fairy had forgotten her last night and she had lots of questions. I could tell she was on to me. She would ask “why didn’t the tooth fairy get my tooth” I would say “I don’t know, why do you think?” She’s shrug and get thoughtful. When she got home from school she asked me again. I replied the same and she said “I know it’s you.” I told her I thought that she had figured it out and she giggled. It was at that moment that I knew I was going to have to break her heart.

I asked, “so do you have any questions about any other magical late night visitors?”

I saw the cloud fall over her face. I witnessed the end of her childhood innocence. It fell like a curtain across her face. She didn’t cry though. She said “I know you are Santa too”. I said “yes I am. And I’m snoopy too. But you can’t tell anyone. You have to keep the secret” she nodded and we were home and she got out of the car.

1 hr and 45 minutes later it hit her. Full on ugly crying and some hyperventilating. It was heart breaking. She said she knew but hearing me say it made it real. My child was mourning and I was responsible.

Eventually she calmed down and now she’s fine. She’s excited about knowing the truth around her younger cousins and friends. She will be ok.

I’m not ok.

She was my last one. Christmas will not be the same for our little family now.. There won’t be anymore magic or mystery. It won’t be the same and I’m sad. I’m sad that my babies aren’t babies anymore and I’m said that I’m not the 10 year old kid in the caprice classic wagon two seconds before daddy confirmed what I already knew. I’m just sad.

But Emily made me better. I told her I was sad and she said, “well we will still have fun celebrating Jesus’s birthday no matter what.”

That one tiny sentence confirmed that the magic was still there. My baby knows without a doubt that Jesus is real and He is Alive and That He LOVES her. The loss of Santa in her mind did not for one second shake her faith in Jesus. She knows he is real and she knows he is coming back for her one day.

I hope you know that He loves you and is coming back for you too!

The Helper

Sometimes you just need to ask for help.

Y’all I’ve been struggling about my house in the past 6 months. I’m talking embarrassed to have company struggling. I’m talking telling people I’m not home and hiding in the bedroom, struggling.

Only close family have been in my home... and only they have entered unannounced when it seemed to me my home was at its absolute worst.

I’m not a homemaker. I don’t love to clean. I don’t want to spend every minute I have cooking and cleaning up my family’s mess. That’s just not me.

When I was working full time i had an angel of a housekeeper. She worked from the time she walked through my door until the time she walked out and she was wonderful and I LOVED her.

The other thing about me is that I get attached.

When I decided to take time to stay at home I let my housekeeper go. I missed her every single Thursday but she moved on. She found new, easier houses to clean. And when I started working again, she didn’t need me anymore.

So I sucked it up and convinced myself I could do it all. I could work and clean and do laundry and cook supper on my days off or bring
supper home on my workdays. I’m super woman and I’m able to provide for my family.

I was wrong.

My housework suffered.

My family’s meals suffered (there’s only a set number of times that you can pass off KFC as a “home cooked meal”)

My family suffered (there was a laundry emergency that coincided with a toilet paper shortage.... I don’t need to get into details but let’s suffice it to say that neither would have happened when stay at home mom Heather was here)

I suffered. I had anxiety and depression and anger and fear about the state of my housekeeping. I thought about it all the time. I dreamed about it. I had nightmares about people dropping In unannounced.

I fought it for a long time. I was determined to handle it all by myself. I was determined that I was a good enough wife and mother that I could do it all without help.

I was wrong.

I asked for help..... paid help.... but help none the less.

My helper showed up today and she cleaned and cleaned and cleaned and she never not one time made me feel like I was less. She never implied that I was less of a mother, wife, woman... she just showed up and cleaned. She washed all the crevices in my cabinets, she got on her knees and cleaned floor boards. She made everything look new again (or as new again as was possible).

The moral of this story is that sometimes you have to admit that you need help. We all love to believe that we are super women but sometimes we need another superwoman to come in and help us get back on track.

The same goes for our Christian lives.... we can coast along when all is well and pray our prayers and pay our tithes but when all the things go wrong in our lives and we are struggling with our r dirty house what do we do??? Do we ignore our problems and hope they will go away? Do we struggle in silence and pray that our friends don’t find out how messy our hearts are? Do we put dust covers over our sins and expect all our church friends to sit on the plastic when they come to visit?

Jesus is my help. He is my soul’s housekeeper. He knows my messiest part. He knows when my heart is dirty and he rejoiced when my heart is clean. He sees right through that plastic and loves me anyway. If you don’t know that love and forgiveness I implore you to talk to me, message me. Cause no matter how messy or dirty you think you are, Jesus will be your savior, he will be your house keeper, he will clean up all the dirty corners in your heart and he will make you feel new again.

“But the Helper, the Holy Spirit, whom the Father will send in my name, he will teach you all things and bring to your remembrance all that I have said to you.”  John 14:26

Jesus Paid it All

“If we don’t believe our sins are responsible for Calvary, then why should we believe that Calvary is responsible for our sins?”

Our pastor made this point during his sermon this past Sunday and I jotted it down and it has stared me in the face every day since then. I’ve been thinking about it long and hard.  

What I’ve determined is that every sin in my life.... from the worst to the least.... Christ bore those for me on Calvary. From the white lie I tell my boss, to the speeding ticket I didn’t tell my husband about, Christ felt the punishment for that on Calvary. Christ felt the punishment for the repentant murderer and the repentant tax evader. He felt the punishment for the time you stole from your mothers mad money jar and he felt the punishment for the time you swore in front of your child. He felt the punishment for the adulterer and for the bank robber. He paid the punishment for all of our sins on Calvary that day. 

If I’m supposed to believe that he did that for me and that he has re-payed those sins for me... then I should take full responsibility for every single lash that He took, for every torment he received, for every thorn in that crown, for the nails that pierced his hands and feet, and for the spears that pierced his sides.... my sins are responsible for that. 

Your sins did that. 

Our sins did that.

My sins did that.

He bore all that for you, for us, for me......

Because he took that punishment, we will be free. He paid our debt. He finished it. 

It is finished. 

Thank you Lord for sacrificing your Son for me. 

Thank you Lord for finishing it.

Just a Nurse

“You’re such a good nurse. Why don’t you go back to school and be a doctor?”

This is a question that I’ve been asked so many times in my career.

The answer? I love what I do. I’m good at what I do. I don’t need to have a higher degree to be good at my job. I love my job. I have no desire to be an administrator or nurse practitioner or PA or MD. I’m fully convinced that I could be any of those. I’m smart. I’m good at school. I’m great at taking tests. I could do any of those things if I chose to.

I don’t choose to.

I choose to be “just a nurse”.

I choose to be “just a (great) nurse.”

I choose to be just the nurse that advocates for your mother when she’s being misdiagnosed by the sleep deprived ER doc. I choose to be just the nurse that holds the hand of the dying hospice patient that doesn’t have family members. I choose to be just the nurse that recognizes the symptoms of heart attack in the patient that signed in to triage with “back pain”. I choose to be just the nurse that can get that IV on your child in one stick. I choose to be just the nurse that can sneak a peek at your chest X-ray and notify the doc that you have pneumonia. I choose to be the nurse that counsels your alcohol poisoned child on the dangers of substance abuse. I choose to be just the nurse that holds your hand and comforts you when you have heard the worst news of your life. I choose to be just  the nurse that you hug when you hear that your loved one is going to be ok. I choose to be just the nurse that you remember being there for you years later, but don’t remember her name. I choose to be just the nurse that your doctor trusts. I choose to be just the nurse that you want to be there when you come to the ER.

I choose to be “just the nurse” that can stay at home with my kids and not worry about student loans or deadlines or papers due. I choose to be “just the nurse” that isn’t replying to emails when she’s off or making up a schedule or replying to patient complaints or  studying PI reports. (No offense meant for those that choose this path. You guys make my job easier and I have the greatest respect for you. It’s just not my choice.)

I choose to be just the nurse that does her job the best way she can and goes home to her family and leaves the rest of it at the hospital.

I choose to be just the nurse.

#loveanurse #ADN #RN #RNforLife #justthenurse #heddyandherthoughts

Samaritan Lessons

So with all this dissonance in our world today my mind comes back to Jesus and the Samaritan woman at the well. Jesus accepts that woman even though society said she was lesser than Him. He didn't see race as an determination of character and he definitely didn't see race as a way to get to heaven.

You See?... Jesus didn't think twice about class or culture or ethnic background. Jesus loved everyone no matter what they looked like or who they loved who they associated with. He loved them period.

The only thing is that in order to be accepted into God's kingdom you have to love Jesus back.

That's the key to heaven.... Jesus loves you no matter what you have done or who you are. The only thing he requires is that you turn away from your sins (repent) accept that he is the Son of God and Believe that he can save you from eternal sin.

He believed that the Samaritan woman was worth saving. She  was one of the lowest of the low, but she was worthy to Jesus. You are always worthy in His sight. He loves you and he wants you to come to him.
If you've read this far please keep reading:

John 4:

1 "Now Jesus learned that the Pharisees had heard that he was gaining and baptizing more disciples than John

2 although in fact it was not Jesus who baptized, but his disciples.

3 So he left Judea and went back once more to Galilee.

4 Now he had to go through Samaria.

5 So he came to a town in Samaria called Sychar, near the plot of ground Jacob had given to his son Joseph.

6 Jacob’s well was there, and Jesus, tired as he was from the journey, sat down by the well. It was about noon.

7 When a Samaritan woman came to draw water, Jesus said to her, “Will you give me a drink?”
8 (His disciples had gone into the town to buy food.)

9 The Samaritan woman said to him, “You are a Jew and I am a Samaritan woman. How can you ask me for a drink?” (For Jews do not associate with Samaritans.[a])

10 Jesus answered her, “If you knew the gift of God and who it is that asks you for a drink, you would have asked him and he would have given you living water.”

11 “Sir,” the woman said, “you have nothing to draw with and the well is deep. Where can you get this living water?

12 Are you greater than our father Jacob, who gave us the well and drank from it himself, as did also his sons and his livestock?”

13 Jesus answered, “Everyone who drinks this water will be thirsty again,

14 but whoever drinks the water I give them will never thirst. Indeed, the water I give them will become in them a spring of water welling up to eternal life.”

15 The woman said to him, “Sir, give me this water so that I won’t get thirsty and have to keep coming here to draw water.”

16 He told her, “Go, call your husband and come back.”

17 “I have no husband,” she replied. Jesus said to her, “You are right when you say you have no husband.

18 The fact is, you have had five husbands, and the man you now have is not your husband. What you have just said is quite true.”

19 “Sir,” the woman said, “I can see that you are a prophet.

20 Our ancestors worshiped on this mountain, but you Jews claim that the place where we must worship is in Jerusalem.”

21 “Woman,” Jesus replied, “believe me, a time is coming when you will worship the Father neither on this mountain nor in Jerusalem.

22 You Samaritans worship what you do not know; we worship what we do know, for salvation is from the Jews.

23 Yet a time is coming and has now come when the true worshipers will worship the Father in the Spirit and in truth, for they are the kind of worshipers the Father seeks.

24 God is spirit, and his worshipers must worship in the Spirit and in truth.”

25 The woman said, “I know that Messiah” (called Christ) “is coming. When he comes, he will explain everything to us.”

26 Then Jesus declared, “I, the one speaking to you—I am he.”

27 Just then his disciples returned and were surprised to find him talking with a woman. But no one asked, “What do you want?” or “Why are you talking with her?”

28 Then, leaving her water jar, the woman went back to the town and said to the people,

29 “Come, see a man who told me everything I ever did. Could this be the Messiah?”

30 They came out of the town and made their way toward him.

And you can keep reading but the point is that these people came to Jesus... despite their ethical or cultural differences. They remixed that Jesus was the only way to true salvation and that God loved them regardless of their social status or skin color or economic status. He loves you the same way. All you have to do is ask him in to your heart.

Saying Goodbye

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.

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.