Thanksgiving FamilyTalk And Blessings
So many people and things to be thankful for:
this Sweetie of mine with one of his twisty walking sticks he makes from tree limbs.
These precious three:
My boy, his pretty young bride,
and our first grand baby boy,
"No No" , who will be born about the same time
as their first anniversary this coming March!
Today we went to Mamaw's and had a big old fashioned feast with our family.
We talked about banjos, my Sweetie is trying to learn to play one. Mamaw said her father in law used to play one, and even after his death she could still hear the music in the house. We talked about quilts and a quilt shop she went to, crocheting, and babies being born in the family in the coming year, Three, all great grands to her! She also reminded me how I was seven months pregnant before I told anyone I was back in my day. She's still miffed at me over that one, and the fact that I mowed grass, and shingled the car port roof that summer too.
I still work hard like that, just not on my knees anymore.
We talked about the ones gone on, and how we miss them. Mamaw always talks about my Momma, she misses her. My Momma loved Mamaw's potato salad, and she always talks about what a fine woman my Momma was, and that always makes me miss her more. She talked about her brother going to church mass, Bible study, and visiting the nursing home. He's done this for years, and now widowed, he still goes regularly every week. Mamaw is still in a bit of shock of her brother's Catholic commitment. He became that when he married his wife decades ago, They grew up in a very different denomination, rollers, and I think she struggles over the difference. Oh not in a bad way, but it's just very different from all she has ever known.
I think we often struggle with the things we don't know.
We always have a bit of a Bible discussion, today it was about gossip, ouch! We talked about cakes, and Aunt Dee's that wouldn't come out of the bundt pan, Aunt Dee was mad at it, and said it was _utt pan because it wouldn't cooperate with her! (you fill in that blank first letter!) Oh, we talked up food a blue streak too, and of course, we had to sample everything on two tables while we were at it!
One of the fellows down the road once told Mamaw she had the biggest mouth in town, right to her face! She still steams over that one, we don't dare bring that up to her. It would make her see red even today, and that fellow's been gone almost twenty years now. Mountain folks remember!!
Mamaw in her pretty purple:
I hope I'm that fiesty and fun when I'm in my 80's!
After all the good talk, and food we took the little car off down the back roads, riding out where the moon rose slow, full, and heavy. We talked of the good times, things said and done, pups, old barns, coyotes in the road, and deer off behind the barb wire fences. We talked about God creating the night, and then the day. We pondered if when He created the stars, sun, and moon, and His spirit moved over the deep, if the water began to slap in waves as it divided , and the kinds of sounds that might have made, We can't grasp that, the empty nothing, and then the full, and good He said it was. It makes you feel small, out in the dark looking up at the vast sky, and know that He did all that, and more.
I thought about the moon behind the trees, and as we drove it was like a spotlight showing lacy shadows of the limbs, in front of the light, like an old black and white movie, where they had no speech, only tinny piano music to accompany it. I think the night does speak, in the whisper of the wind, and in the bass of the old log cabin foundations still sturdy with the rocky piers. There are ,pastures now brown and dry with scattered leaves, and the glistening creeks carry a timeless tunes in the darkness. We pass through this world but once, then like a vapor we are gone. I found myself speaking in the cold night air, and my words formed misty solids in front of my face. I'm just a trace of time passing through this place, like those shadows along the roadside, for a moment they could be someone, and the next all that is there is a scrub cedar in the shape of a person with a beckoning hand. I looked up at the old mansion foundation. There is nothing of life in it since it burned years ago, and I remembered going through it back in our dating days. We crawled under it, along those high brick piers, to the very center of the crawl space.. There were huge floor joists two foot square each and they ran the entire length and breadth of that huge house. They'd been hand cut from huge trees in the 1800's and there were no pieces in them, each joist was the full length, and where they lapped in the end plates they were joined with pegs. I've never seen before or since the likes of that. Tonight as we passed by I thought of that day, and I looked off to the remaining bricks, nothing much left there now except for part of the porch supports. Still in the darkness, the mortar gleamed white reflecting the moon's glow. I fancied I could still see the wagons on the narrow curving road, coming up to the porch and tying to the hitch post. There's a bit of pretty green tile still left from the fireplace surround, somewhere. Maybe I will look again someday, just to see the pretty color. I stumbled on it once when we were prowling around, long after the house had burned to the ground. I remember thinking I'd like a piece of that crushed up enameled tile when I realized lying on top of it was one of the biggest snakes I'd ever seen. That scared me to death, and I ran like the wind toward the truck. I've never walked there again, but I'd like to, and I thought on it as we drove past.
So many times the holidays pull us to the past. They bring lots of memories along with rolls and ham. We talk of life, what it was, what it is, and what it will be. Full circle, we come into it, do our best, and leave again in the dark watches of the night. Like that full moon spotlight, our lives give off shadows, and substance, illusion, and reality. We long for the missing pieces, and ponder what is out of our comprehension. Faith is the substance of things hoped for the evidence of things not seen. Much like the days of our lives, we hope, we ponder, we remember, and we go on to the things not yet seen, but revealed in the old words, and Gods deeds of blessing to us who come in our own generation to pass through but once. I hope your talk, blessings, and remembrances are good, and bring sweet solace to your heart, and spirit. As this year surely winds down, take a trip with the good you have come to know, look up through the trees, and think of the solid strength you build your life around. In the days of the dwindling shifting light, look with hope for what has been promised. Take a night ride, and thank the Creator who blessed you, loved you, and set you here to be. Take time to thank Him, and just know that even though you can't see into the future, it lies just around the next bend in the road, Slowly coming, or rushing to you, good lies just ahead, go out in peace to your next appointed meeting. I hope the whisper on the wind is sweetly calling. to you, "Come", and that you do!
Godspeed, and grace from the Lord from my home in the mountains.