Dianne

Happy Birthday, Mama…

Mama was born on the 4th of July. Every year, the family gathered for a picnic and cookout with all the trimmings in her honor. In later years, it was held at my oldest sister Dot’s house because she had a swimming pool. Memphis is hot in the summertime and the kids loved the pool. Dot would bake a large chocolate sheet cake with a hint of cinnamon and a delicious chocolate icing. Sometimes, she’d decorate the top. It was so very good. My mouth waters just remembering. With the cake, there would be homemade vanilla ice cream, usually my sister Gerry’s specialty. Before dessert, of course, there would be delicious grilled hamburgers, baked beans, potato salad and other wonderful dishes. In later years, we’d sometimes order Memphis barbeque at its best – from Corky’s.

Yes, I know that July 4th represents Independence Day…but not to me. To me, it is Mama’s birthday. The day is filled with memories that make me wish I could turn the clock back and we’d all be together celebrating. Little did I know then, how quickly time would pass…

Dianne and Gerry at Mama’s 4th of July birthday party at Dot’s house. About 1990.

Legacy…

Family, My Southern Heart, Reflections

Today is my Daddy’s birthday and I’m missing him. He was born on February 17, 1905…the youngest of seven children. His father and grandfather before him were farmers in the rich farmland of the Mississippi Delta. With a legacy bestowed by their Scottish immigrant ancestors, they had strong work ethics, Christian values and believed in the strength of family.

I never heard my Daddy raise his voice in anger or utter a curse word in my entire life. He was a strong but gentle man. As the father of four daughters, he was mellow and laid-back – I supposed he had to be. With a quick and ready smile, he had a good sense of humor. As children, my niece Sharon and I would get to laughing at the supper table and could easily get him to laugh. On more than a few occasions, we were sent from the table until we regained our composure.

He and Mama spent a lifetime together. After a severe stroke claimed her speech and altered her personality, he was kind and patient with her. In the last few months of his life, one of his favorite country songs that he would listen to often was “I’ll Go to My Grave Loving You” by the Statler Brothers. He loved her and us, his four daughters, with all his heart. He also loved his grandchildren. I just wish that he could have lived long enough to meet my grandchildren. My oldest grandson has my Daddy’s olive complexion, dark brown eyes and very dark brown hair. My Dad was the only grandparent or great-grandparent with those features, and I love the fact that my grandson inherited them.

Daddy was an “old-time” Democrat, which my son says today would, most likely, be the Libertarian party. He believed in searching for the candidate who would be the strongest leader…the one with the most integrity and character. He was also not fond of “big government”. I’ve wondered what he would have to say about the November election and which candidate he would choose. I think I have an idea.

I’m truly thankful for the legacy that my parents left my sisters and me…

Happy birthday, my sweet boy…

Family, Reflections

I was there when you arrived HOME from Ethiopia after a long two day journey with your Mom and Dad. You must have been tired, but you didn’t cry. You carefully looked us all over – your new family – from the safety of Mommy’s arms. Those dark eyes danced and then you smiled, revealing dimples that stole my heart. Two years later and I am indeed your Grandmommy! Happy Birthday, my sweet boy!

For my grandson’s third birthday, I chose the Hallmark Curious George recordable book and the Curious George plush character that talks when you press the toe (loudly). I also recorded the story in my voice. My daughter says he plays the storybook all the time. I watched on iPad FaceTime as he opened them and played the book. For just a moment, there was a look of confusion as to how I could accomplish being in two places at once, but then he picked the book up and hugged it to his chest. I will be there for a visit in a few short weeks and I can’t wait!

Fifty-five years and a lock of hair…

My Southern Heart, Reflections

A box came down from the attic today that I knew held some treasures. There were letters from my older son and my daughter when they were away at college. There were letters I had written to my parents after we moved to Kentucky. There was a card to my older son at college written by my third grade son telling his older brother that he “didn’t like being an only child” and that he missed him. The tears were falling, of course, as I continued to sort through these priceless treasures…

Then I spotted the envelope written in Mama’s hand. On the front it read “Dianne McGregor. Lock of hair from September 28, 1957”. 55 years?! I took the envelope outside into the sunlight and carefully pulled out the lock of hair and the small 55 year old rubber band. (For a moment, I felt just like Bruce Willis when he meets himself as a child in the Disney movie, “The Kid”.)

I know now why my youngest has beautiful strawberry blonde hair (besides the fact his two grandmothers did as well). I held the proof in my hands. My hair was clearly blonde. Strawberry blonde.

A year or so ago, I tried having my hair a darker brown. It didn’t feel right. It didn’t feel like me. Someone asked me, “what makes you think you’re a blonde?” Besides my coloring and my memory? I just knew.

So, today, I held the 55 year old lock of hair in my hands. It is the exact same color hair as several of my granddaughters. I was eleven years old on September 28th, 1957…the same age as one of my granddaughters.

I love the study of genetics. The link from one generation to the next. The circle of life…

Behold, the Lamb of God…

Reflections

Do you remember the first time you saw your newborn baby’s face after nine long months of waiting? I do. I remember all three of their precious faces. I remember checking tiny little eyelashes and soft fine eyebrows. I counted baby fingers and toes. I marveled at their exquisite noses and tiny little ears. The amazing faces I’d waited so many months to see stared back at me in wonder.

I can only imagine what Mary thought when she gazed into the face of her newborn son. I wonder if, in her heart of hearts, she truly knew that she had just given birth to the long awaited Messiah. There in a stable on a bed of fresh straw, the Son of God had been born. An angel had appeared to Mary months before to tell her that she had found favor with God and was to bear a child. You remember the story. The angel had said “He will be great and will be called the Son of the Most High. The Lord God will give him the throne of his father David, and he will reign over Jacob’s descendants forever; his kingdom will never end.” Of course, Mary knew that she was a virgin and questioned how this could be. The angel answered, “The Holy Spirit will come upon you, and the power of the Most High will overshadow you. So the holy one to be born will be called the Son of God.” (Luke 1: 26-38)

I’m sure Mary did just what you and I did as a parent. She talked soft baby talk to him. She listened to him coo. She soothed his cries. She made him laugh. She cared for him one day at the time and watched him grow. No doubt, as she cradled her newborn son in her arms and watched him sleeping peacefully, she remembered the angel’s words. Do you think – for just a moment – Mary had any idea tht she was holding the King of Kings and Lord of Lords in her arms? Clearly, the angel had told her that His kingdom would never end. If I had to guess, Mary was thinking her son’s destiny held something much greater than a wooden cross…but the cross was why Jesus was born.

Almighty God could have chosen any other amazing way to redeem this sinful world, but God Himself came, to you and to me, as a perfect baby. If you’ve not read the story in a while, find a comfortable chair by the window or in front of the fireplace…pick up your New Testament and just start reading. You’ll be amazed all over again. This sweet baby Jesus grew up and went to the cross to pay a debt that I owed – that you owe. He died for each of us. (Read John 3:16) Thank God that He didn’t stay in the grave! He’s alive and is coming again! Keep reading…that amazing story is in there too.

At this Christmas season as we celebrate the birth of our Saviour, I pray for each of you. I pray that you are well and surrounded by family and friends (unless you’re like me this year and many miles from them). I pray God’s richest blessings for each of you…