The 1887 Church

Here are some more photos from the church in the historical park. The sign, if you will click on it, you can read more about the church and the meaning of the window that appears to be the star of David.

Nothing can alter the character of God. In the course of a human life, tastes and outlook and temper may change radically: a kind, equable man may turn bitter and crotchety: a man of good-will may grow cynical and callous. But nothing of this sort happens to the Creator. He never becomes less truthful, or merciful, or just, or good, than He used to be. --J.I. Packer

[God] is not proud...He will have us even though we have shown that we prefer everything else to Him. --CS Lewis

As long as you are proud you cannot know God. A proud man is always looking down on things and people; and, of course, as long as you are looking down, you cannot see something that is above you. --C. S. Lewis

I gave in, and admitted that God was God. --C. S. Lewis

The Little Church

Located in the historical park is the old Manatee Meth*dist Church. When a new church was built, this one was moved to its present location in the park. Today, the church is open for visitors and may be used for weddings. As I entered the church, I thought of the pioneering families who came to Manatee County and settled and came here for worship. They had weddings, funerals, baptisms...the church was the center of family life. The same holds true for many of us today. I am so thankful for my church family who cares for me and my children. We rejoice with each other in our joys; we cry with each other in our sorrow; we support each other through good and bad.

As I entered the church, the pews were bare, but I thought of the stories that were probably shared there among the ladies, the children who were seated with their parents, no nursery to send their children to, no children's church to entertain. They learned to sit respectfully and learned to worship alongside their parents. I think we've lost something somewhere along the line.

The Little Church


The little church of Long Ago, where as a boy I sat
With mother in the family pew and fumbled with my hat--
How I would like to see it now the way I saw it then,
The straight-backed pews, the pulpit high, the women and the men
Dressed stiffly. in their Sunday clothes and solemnly devout,
Who closed their eyes when prayers were said and never looked about--
That little church of Long Ago, it wasn't grand to see,
But even as a little boy it meant a lot to me.

The choir loft where father sang comes back to me again;
I hear his tenor voice once more the way I heard it when
The deacons used to pass the plate, and once again I see
The people fumbling for their coins, as glad as they could be
To drop their quarters on the plate, and I'm a boy once more
With my two pennies in my fist that mother gave before
We left the house, and once again I'm reaching out to try
To drop them on the plate before the deacon passes by.

It seems to me I'm sitting in that high-backed pew, the while
The minister is preaching in that good old-fashioned style;
And though I couldn't understand it all somehow I know
The Bible was the text book in that church of Long Ago;
He didn't preach on politics, but used the word of God,
And even now I seem to see the people gravely nod,
As though agreeing thoroughly with all he had to say,
And then I see them thanking him before they go away.

The little church of Long Ago was not a structure huge,
It had no hired singers or no other subterfuge
To get the people to attend, 'twas just a simple place
Where every Sunday we were told about God's saving grace;
No men of wealth were gathered there to help it with a gift;
The only worldly thing it had--a mortgage hard to lift.
And somehow, dreaming here to-day, I wish that I could know
The joy of once more sitting in that church of Long Ago.

Edgar Guest

Four rooms and a path

I said in an earlier post that I did not like particularly going to my grandma and grandpa's house on "vacation." As I said, my mother looked after her parents to make sure that they had what they needed, and so a couple of times a year we went in the '36 Chevrolet and later the '50 Chevy sedan.

One of the main reason I disliked going was the fact that there was no running water in the house and no indoor plumbing. Many of you know what I'm talking about. When I went to Haiti and found myself using outhouses, it at least was not a shock to my system as it was to some of the missionaries, particularly young wives, who had come from city settings.

I found the following poem, which is attributed to James Whitc*mb Riley. However, if you go to this site, you will find that his authorship has been disputed.

The Passing of the Backhouse

When memory keeps me company and moves to smile or tears,
A weather-beaten object looms through the mist of years,
Behind the house and barn it stood, a half a mile or more
And hurrying feet a path had made, straight to its swinging door.


Its architecture was a type of simple classic art,
But in the tragedy of life it played a leading part.
And oft the passing traveler drove slow and heaved a sigh,
To see the modest hired girl slip out with glances shy.


We had our posey garden that the women loved so well;
I loved it too, but better still I loved the stronger smell
That filled the evening breezes so full of homely cheer,
And told the night-o'ertaken tramp that human life was near.


On lazy August afternoons it made a little bower
Delightful, where my grandsirer sat and whiled away an hour.
For there the summer mornings, its very cares entwined,
And berry bushes reddened in the streaming soil behind.


All day fat spiders spun their webs to catch the buzzing flies
That flitted to and from the house, where Ma was baking pies;
And once a swarm of hornets bold had built their palace there,
And stung my unsuspecting Aunt -- I must not tell you where.


My father took a flaming pole -- that was a happy day --
He nearly burned the building up, but the hornets left to stay.
When summer bloom began to fade and winter to carouse,
We banked the little building with a heap of hemlock boughs.


But when the crust is on the snow and sullen skies were gray,
Inside the building was no place where one could wish to stay.
We did our duties promptly, there one purpose swayed the mind;
We tarried not, nor lingered long, on what we left behind.


The torture of the icy seat would make a Spartan sob,
For needs must scrape the flesh with a lacerating cob,
That from a frost-encrusted nail suspended from a string --
My father was a frugal man and wasted not a thing.


When Grandpa had to "go out back" and make his morning call,
We'd bundle up the dear old man with a muffler and a shawl.
I knew the hole on which he sat -- 'twas padded all around,
And once I tried to sit there -- 'twas all too wide I found,


My loins were all too little, and I jack-knifed there to stay,
They had to come and get me out, or I'd have passed away,
My father said ambition was a thing that boys should shun,
And I just used the children's hole 'til childhood days were done.


And still I marvel at the craft that cut those holes so true,
The baby's hole, and the slender hole that fitted Sister Sue,
That dear old country landmark; I tramped around a bit,
And in the lap of luxury my lot has been to sit,


But ere I die I'll eat the fruits of trees I robbed of yore,
Then seek the shanty where my name is carved upon the door.
I ween that old familiar smell will soothe my jaded soul,
I'm now a man, but none the less I'll try the children's hole.

by James Whitc*mb Riley

When my elementary school was remodeled and added onto back in 1995, the architect wanted to keep the flavor of Florida alive in his plans. Our bathrooms jutted out from adjoining classrooms, so when the building was painted, they were painted with crescent moons on the outside.

In reading about outhouses, I read that men's outhouses had stars carved in the door; the ladies' outhouses had moons. After awhile, because the men preferred the ladies' cleaner and neater houses, they finally just used the crescent.

I'm sure some of you have stories that you could tell, and some of the younger ones have never had to experience the "walk down the path."

For some fun facts about outhouses, you can go here.

Tucker's diagnosis

After I had posted an update about Tucker the other day, Sarah had a call from the vet, and the tests that they did on the mass show that he does indeed have cancer. The vet felt that she had gotten most of the mass during the surgery, but she's going to talk to an oncologist.

He's recovering very well. He really was laid open. His stitches in a very large Y-shape. He has a collar around his neck, of course, to keep from biting at the stitches, and he seems reconciled to it. Just a few more days and the stitches will be out, then I think he'll feel like a new cat again. Hopefully this surgery has given him many more days.

Below is another good post from Steve Goodier.

JOY IN THE MORNING

Does this sound familiar? James was cleaning out the attic one day when he came across a ticket from a shoe repair shop. The date stamped on the ticket showed it was over eleven years old. He felt sure the shoes would not still be there, but decided to stop by anyway and check.

He handed the ticket to the man behind the counter, who didn't seem to be surprised at the date. "Just a minute," said the clerk. " I'll have to look for these." He disappeared into a back room. After a few minutes, the clerk called out, "Here they are!"

"That's terrific!" said James, hardly believing his good fortune.The man came back to the counter, empty-handed. "They'll be ready Thursday," he said.

We should all be masters of patience; after all, we've had plenty of practice. But waiting for shoes is one thing, waiting to heal from a hurt or waiting for a persistent problem to change can be far more difficult. James Melvin Washington shared some wisdom about the importance of patience in those tough times of life. He said, "My grandmother used to tell me that every loss is temporary, that every rainy day is temporary, that every hardship is temporary. She used to tell me, 'Son, every goodbye ain't gone. Just hold on - there's joy coming in the morning.'

"Are you holding on? It may seem dark now, but morning is coming.-- Steve Goodier

To me, that's a good thought to hold onto. (Sorry, Judy, about the preposition at the end of the sentence. :-)

Tucker on Thursday

Just a note to let you know that Tucker continues to do well. Sarah hasn't received any lab report yet.

I haven't had time to do a thoughtful post, so I thought I'd include this that I received in an e=mail the other day. I know that it doesn't apply to most of my blogging friends, with the exception of a couple of you, and you know who you are. You will either smile knowingly, or you might think, "Oh, my." Whatever...

For those over 60

Q: Where can women over the age of 60 find young, sexy men, who are interested in them?
A: Try a bookstore under fiction.

Q: What can a man do while his wife is going through menopause?
A: Keep busy. If you're handy with tools, you can finish the basement.
When you are done you will have a place to live.

Q: How can you increase the heart rate of your 60+ year old husband?
A: Tell him you're pregnant.

Q: How can you avoid spotting a wrinkle every time you walk by a mirror?
A: The next time you're in front of a mirror, take off your glasses.

Q: Why should 60+ year old people use valet parking?
A: Valets don't forget where they park your car.

Q: Is it common for 60+ year olds to have problems with short term
memory storage?
A: Storing memory is not a problem, retrieving it is a problem.

Q: As people age, do they sleep more soundly?
A: Yes, but usually in the afternoon.

Q: Where do 60+ year olds look for fashionable glasses?
A: Their foreheads.

Q: What is the most common remark made by 60+ year olds when they enter antique stores?
A: "I remember these!"

Have a safe weekend. I was going to travel to south Georgia for a mini-reunion with some high school friends, but then I filled my gas tank and thought better of it.

Update on Tucker

Tucker had his surgery yesterday afternoon. Sarah called me last night and said that she had brought him home. The vet said he thought he would be happier at home than at the office. The mass was very large. Some tests will be done it. He's quite miserable right now, but Sarah said as soon as she opened the door of the carrier, he was out of there.

So with some antibiotics, some pain medicine and Sarah's TLC, hopefully he'll make a good recovery.

Thanks for your interest.

Tucker

Tucker came into my daughter's life six years ago. She had moved to her college town to live and work for a while. One day one of her coworkers at the bank told her that a pregnant cat had come to her house, she fed her, and, of course, the cat stayed. When the cat delivered her kittens, Sarah was determined to have one of them.

She was renting a house, and pets were not permitted. So she wrote her landlady a letter, pleading with her to please let her have a cat. She would make sure that the house was spic and span and without fleas whenever she decided to make a move.

Some time went by, and Sarah decided that she wanted to move back to Florida, so she packed up, and her dad and grandpa moved her and Tucker back home. She stayed with us until her house was ready to move into. Tucker spent his time in her bedroom because of our aging female Color. Whenever he got out and came downstairs where Color was, there was quite the confrontation. I was afraid our old cat would have a stroke with this other creature in the house. She was definitely a one-house cat.

A little while ago Sarah felt a mass in Tucker's side, took him to the vet, and it was decided that because he is as young as he is, surgery is definitely in order for him. Tomorrow afternoon Tucker will have surgery to have this mass removed. I almost feel funny asking prayer for a cat, but he is such an important part of Sarah's life. Sarah wouldn't mind a little bit of prayer for herself too. Thanks.

Grow, Ella, Grow

This is one of the photos of Ella that I tried to upload, but it was always sideways, so I scanned it and put it in. It is my absolute favorite photo of her so far. I took this one when I was with her in April.
As I have mentioned before, failure to thrive is one of the problems with cystic fibrosis. Because Ella was identified early and given enzymes to take before eating, this has not been a problem for her so far. We are so thankful.

My son just called to give me Ella's latest vital statistics. At her nine months checkup she weighs 18 lb. 15 oz. That puts her in the 50% for weight. She's 29" long. She grew 2 inches since her checkup in February. They did a finger stick to check her hemoglobin. The doctor told David they look for 11 in an infant her age, and hers is a 12.1.

Grow, Ella, grow.

More Light and Less Noise

I was sitting at my computer reading the following when I heard thunder. Rather a propos. And then it started raining. What a wonderful sound. Not a lot, but some. I prayed that it was raining up in Georgia and around Florida where the fires are, but I prayed that they weren't having any lightning.

Steve Goodier sends out an e-mail weekly with good food for thought. Here is his offering for this week


MORE LIGHT AND LESS NOISE

A great story from one of America's greatest story-tellers, Abraham Lincoln, was related by the president during those anxious days of the American Civil War. A delegation of well-meaning patriots tried to impress upon the president the gravity of the war. They implied that his administration was neither as wise nor good as it ought to be.

He listened carefully, then responded with a memorable anecdote. He told them that he once had a neighbor who found himself in a tight situation. He was traveling home one dark and rainy night. There were few bridges in the country and he came to a stream that he would have to ford. But because of the darkness and the rain, he couldn't see well enough to know just where to cross. Lightning flashed and he saw his way for the briefest moment. But the man was perplexed because there seemed to be more thunder than lightning. He was convinced that every lightning flash was followed by several loud peals of thunder.

The poor man just stood at the edge of the stream in his confusion about how to proceed. He finally prayed, "O Lord, if it is just the same to you, give me more light and less noise." The delegation clearly got the point that the president needed mo resolutions and less complaining - more light and less noise.

Some people are more like light and others are more like noise. Some people shed light on solutions. Others only make a din about the way things are. Some people help us to see the situation more clearly. Others just sound off about who's to blame. Some people show a better way. Others clamor about the present course of action. Some people offer to help. Others wail about the problem.

The sun rises every morning and sheds light, vanquishing the night's darkness. The rooster also rises every morning and makes noise, which does nothing about the darkness. How could things be different if you were more like the sun than the rooster? What if you decided today to contribute to the light?-- Steve Goodier

Just when you think you have it hard

Inside the kitchen at the historical park are reminders of my grandparents' home as I mentioned in my last post. I remember when they didn't have running water. The food was cooked on a wood stove. I think I remember electricity in the house. There was a single light bult hanging from the middle of the room...no switches, though. I remember that my grandmother had a string from the light pull to the head of her bed so that she could turn the light out after she was in bed.

I read a post the other day that talked about the essential kitchen...the items that you needed if you had no extras. I think this table would show that somewhat. We have so many appliances and conveniences today, but we don't cook nearly as much as our grandparents did, do we.

Notice the floor boards. See the light coming through? I don't remember that at their house, but you could see between the boards in the walls.

A little ironing to be done? Is this the forerunner of a steam iron? I didn't ever see one like this. My mother kept some of the cast iron irons that you heated on top of the woodstove, but I don't remember seeing one like this before. When I lived in Haiti, I brought home a beautiful charcoal iron. The top of the iron has a container for hot coals to heat the iron. I've never did use it that way.

My grandma and grandpa had a pump a little way from the house. I always liked pumping water for them. My great-aunt had a house similar to the one in the photo below, and she had a wrap-around porch with a pump there at the porch like this one. We don't even think about it when we turn on a light, or turn on a faucet, knowing that we'll have power and water.

I love looking at these reminders of years gone by, but I'm not sure that I would have wanted to live then. A simpler life, perhaps, but not easier. When I lived in Haiti, we had a girl who cooked for us, a lady who came and did our laundry, and when I came home and told people that, some raised their eyebrows. Luxury? No, necessity. That's a topic for another day. If I ever get my slides from Haiti scanned, I'll have lots to blog about.

Come and Dine

A few weeks ago I posted some photos from the historical park here in Bradenton, and I had every intention of posting every day...well. As I walked through the park that day, I truly was walking back in time to my childhood when I used to go with my parents to visit my maternal grandparents in north Florida.

My mother was the next to the oldest of five children, and she somehow was the one who took the responsibility of seeing that her parents had their needs taken care of. Every time that my parents had vacation time, it was spent visiting grandma and grandpa. I must confess that I do not have fond memories of my grandparents, not like children do today. They seemed awfully old to me, and they really were not too interested in me, or so I thought.

Their house was similar to the one pictured here, although not nearly as nice. It was a frame house with a tin roof, a square divided into four equal rooms, a living room, a kitchen/dining room, and two bedrooms. You can guess where the bathroom was. That's right...down the path. I think that is another reason I didn't like to go there.

As I entered this house, I realized that they knew how to build houses then to catch the breezes as they came through. It was not particularly a cool day when I visited here, but as i walked into the house, the gentle breeze did keep me cool. In this particular house the bedrooms were to the right as you enter and then straight ahead is the kitchen as you can well see.

In the kitchen was the dinner table, placed as it was in my grandparents' house. On each long side of the table was a bench on which to sit. Now that was one thing that I did like. I loved to sit on the bench to eat my dinner. After we were through eating, if there were leftovers, my grandma would cover them with a sheet or a cloth to keep the flies out. We didn't worry about spoilage. I guess she figured that it would all be eaten soon...turnip greens, black-eyed peas, okra and tomatoes, and always a pot of grits. My grandma loved her grits.

Grandpa sat at the head of the table, and this photo reminds me of him. My mother called her parents "Mama and Papa." The oilcloth table cloth, the mismatched silver and dishes are so much like theirs. I remember watching grandpa eat and then rinse his mouth with his coffee. Sometimes he would "saucer and blow" it before he drank it and then swish it around in his mouth before swallowing it. He didn't have any teeth...if he did, he didn't wear them. Maybe he left them in the cup, so when he ate, his chin would just about meet his nose.

My grandparents didn't have much in this life, but they were generous with what they had and were grateful to my mother for looking after them like she did. As I was thinking about the table spread, I was reminded of an old gospel song, "Come and Dine." You can hear the tune and read the words at cyberhymnal.

The refrain goes:

“Come and dine,” the Master calleth, “Come and dine”;

You may feast at Jesus’ table all the time;

He Who fed the multitude, turned the water into wine,

To the hungry calleth now, “Come and dine.”

I just press the thing-y

Take a look at this cartoon. I sometimes feel like that. Now, SRP and Vicki and a few others I know know all about those things. (I hesitate to copy stuff to a blog that is copyrighted, so be sure to take a look.)

When I try to upload from P*casa, I see this "local host" in the html. Then I try to change it like SRP said, and I just get a smaller box. If I upload from "My Documents", I don't have a problem. However, when I download photos from my camera, they go to P*casa and bypass My Documents.

I have a photo of Ella I want to upload because it is just SO CUTE. It's in My Documents, but when I upload it, it is sideways because that is the way I took it. In P*casa, I can turn it, but coming from My Documents, it's sideways. I welcome any suggestions. I know the solution would be to put them all in My Pictures, but I guess I need someone to sit down with me and help me move them.

Do you know about kids who have the label, LD, and ADD, and ADHD? Well, I used to tell people at my Pampered Ch*f shows when I was looking for a tool, that I'm OD, organizationally disabled...not my strong suit. Besides, I should be doing other things besides playing at my computer all day.

A good report

When I went downstairs this morning, I wondered if my house was catching on fire. When I opened my garage door, I could tell that the smoke was everywhere. It seems that the winds have brought the smoke from north Georgia and Florida all the way down into our area, and it's supposed to last until at least Wednesday evening. And it was cool this morning, the kind of cool that would cause one to turn off the air conditioning and open the doors and windows.

The above photo is a shot of the Sunshine Skyway that connects Bradenton and St. Pete. That's smoke, not fog.

I had two doctors' appointments this morning, one with an endocrinologist and one with my cardiologist. I'm on medication for hyperthyroidism. The blood work shows it, but it has never really been evident. I'm certainly not a 120 lb. ball of energy...just the opposite. But I was having some palpitations, so the cardiologist sent me to her to get it checked out. Well, the blood work shows improvement, but I've also put on a few pounds. But, thanks be to G-d, he didn't comment about the weight gain, just that he had hesitated to send me because it would make it difficult to lose.

It was such an ordinary appointment. That's the kind I like to have. He said I'm doing fine, and that's what I wanted to hear. My symptoms of myasthenia gravis are subsiding pretty much too. That's another post for another day.

When someone says, "Have a good day," I always say that any day that I wake up is a good day.

The ABC meme of me

I was tagged by Karen at Pondering Penguin to do this meme. Since it's the ABC's, I think it will not be too hard and sort of fun, so here goes.

ABCs of the Lacoochee Kid
A: Attached or Single?: I was attached to Don for just shy of 29 years before his death.
B: Best Friend: That would be my friend Peg, who now lives in the Chicago area.
C: Cake or Pie? That's a hard one. Though I rarely eat it because of its his sugar content, I'd have to say pecan pie. I didn't taste it until I was around 20, and then I wished I never had. It was SO-O-O delicious.
D: Drink of Choice? Since I'm from the South, I should say "sweet tea," but again because of the sugar, I drink it with Sp*nda or whatever, or DIET COKE. I'm a tee-totaler, which some of my friends find amusing.
E: Essential Item: Books, and these days, my computer.
F: Favorite Color: Blue--When we built our house, someone told me, "My dear, people don't decorate with blue." Well, guess what. I did. And I still love it.
G: Gummi Bears or Worms: No, thank you. I like chocolate. If I'm going to have something sweet, I want to really love it.
H: Hometown: Lacoochee, Florida, hence, the title of my blog. However, my parents moved to Bradenton when I was four, so I think I really should claim Bradenton. We are the spring training home of the Pittsburgh Pirates. Woo-hoo! Also home of Tropicana Orange Juice.
I: Indulgence: Moose Tracks Ice Cream from P*blix.
J: January or February? January - My daughter's birthday is in January. She was born on the 20th. It was 26 degrees the morning that we went to the hospital to have her...yes, in Florida.
K: Kids: 2, 1 wonderful daughter, Sarah, and 1 incredible son, David, who just happens to be the father of Ella. (You've read about her, right?)
L: Life is incomplete without: my wonderful church family.
M: Marriage Date: May 12, 1973.
N: Number of Siblings: -- 0 --O: My dear mother gave birth to a son who was stillborn four years before I was born. She gave birth to a little girl, who was born too early at six months and did not survive.
O: Oranges or Apples? Since I live in Florida, I should say oranges, but I think I'm really partial to apples, either in a pie or crisp.
P: Phobias/Fears? Balloons. When I was four, my parents took me to the circus in Sarasota and bought me a big balloon. They owned a restaurant, and one day while I was there, the balloon burst behind me. I was hysterical. I almost get sick to my stomach today when I get too close to one.
Q; Favorite Quote: Hebrews 13:5 God has said, "Never will I leave you: never will I forsake you." So we say with confidence, "The Lord is my helper: I will not be afraid. What can man do to me?"
R: Reasons to Smile: Sarah, David, Sabrina, ELLA, fairly good health, I can still see despite some hemorrhages in my right eye.
S: Season? Fall, because it signals the end of the long, hot summer.
T: Tags: Anyone who reads this far who might like to do this. Most of the people I know have been tagged.
U: Unknown fact about me: I had never had a date until I met Don.
V: Vegetarian or Oppressor of Animals: Definitely a meat eater.
W: Worst Habit? Nail biting. I'm sure there are those who could come up with something else.
X: X-rays or Ultrasound. Ultrasound, I guess. The doc can find out what's wrong with you without going in. No harmful rays. Ultrasound was not quite common when I was pregnant, so I didn't get that opportunity.
Y: Your Favorite Foods: My mother's fried chicken, garlic mashed potatoes, Mexican.
Z: Zodiac? Virgo, although I know none of the characteristics. I've never paid attention to the signs, and who is compatible with whom.

So there.

Wanting something new

Tell me, those of you who have changed formats of your blogs, or changed the template, does everything change over o.k. if you haven't done any fancy stuff to your blog? I would like to change the appearance of mine, but I'm afraid to for fear of losing my stuff.

Five years later

This week has been the fifth anniversary of Don's passing. I wrote some of my thoughts last year here. I had planned a post for the 30th, which is the day that he died. My computer crashed while I was in Virginia, so I didn't get it together, and then I was on the road coming home on the 30th. Today, Saturday, is the day that we put his body in the ground five years ago. I was thinking this morning about the term "laid to rest." He really wasn't laid to rest...he was already gone. Only the body remained.

I want to share with you the thoughts of my children about those days. From reading blogs, I know that not everyone has a wonderful father who is there all the time. Even though he was not perfect, my husband adored his children and did everything that he could for them. I think his main downfall was that he worked so much that he often did not spend the time them that they might have desired, but he was always there for them.

My son had just graduated from Penn State in December of 2001. Even though he graduated with a degree in engineering, during his years at Penn State, he became involved in a campus ministry, and his vocation took a different direction. He became a campus minister, working at IUP (Indiana University of Pennsylvania.) He was dependent upon others for his financial support, and in one of his letters to his friends, he wrote this:

On April 30th, I received the call that can never be expected, the call
that tells you a loved one has been taken from this earth. My father,
Donald Whitcomb, was killed in a car accident at the age of 54.

This made for a tough time at the beginning of the summer, especially while
traveling and leaning so much. it is still hard. Tears come randomly, and mourning is far from over. Nothing can prepare you for a tragedy like this. nothing but the grace of God can give true comfort. I thank God that my family can hold onto the hope of seeing my father again, as spoken in I Thessalonians 4:13, 14: "But we do not want
you to be uninformed, brethren, about those who are asleep, that you may not
grieve, as do the rest who have no hope. For if we believe that Jesus died
and rose again, even so God will bring with Him those who have fallen asleep
in Jesus."

I will see my father again, and that day will be glorious. My family was blessed with a funeral that was a celebration of life. Over 700 people came to the visitation and the funeral. My dad knew and loved all types of people. lawyers, doctors, plumbers, electricians, widows, Africans, Asians, Latinos, and young and old, and those people knew and loved him as well....

Please take these words and think about htem: Sons, pursue your fathers. And learn about them as much as you can, while you can. Ask questions, even if you think it is weird. I wish I had. Fathers, pursue your sons, and learn their lives no matter how hard it is. Talk to them, and ask them questions, even when they don't want you to. If you think you don't have time to work on your relationship, make time. Life is a precious thing, and I didn't realize that until my father's death.

At Don's service, our pastor asked the family if we would like to say anything. I shared a little with the people who came, and then one of the pastors read a letter that Sarah had written to her dad. I asked her if she minded if I shared it with you, and she said that she didn't.

May 3, 2002

Dear Daddy,

I can’t believe I’m writing this letter. It’s only been 3 days since the accident but it seems like a whole lot longer. I feel like I’m in a dream and when I wake up you’ll still be here. I can’t believe you are gone.

I’m remembering what you told me often when I was down and wondering if things would turn out okay. You’d tell me to keep my chin up and keep pressing on. I’m trying to do that daddy, I’m really trying.

Thank you for everything that you ever did for mom, David and me. Thank you for being so giving and loving. Even though there weren’t a lot of touchy-feely moments, you always showed your love somehow.

Well, now you’ll be watching me wherever I am and in whatever I’m doing. You’ll always be with me, in my heart and in my mind. I’m too much like you to ever forget anything. But I miss you so so much it’s indescribable.

I’m going to keep working on the house and get the things done you wanted to do to it and then some. Thank you for helping me get the house and fix it up. I wouldn’t have traded you for another dad in the world.

As David said, you worked so hard for all that time and now you are finally resting and singing in the choir up in heaven. Say hi to grandma for me.

Thank you for being a wonderful dad.
I love you with all my heart.
See you one day!
Love always,
Your daughter,
Sarah

Thank you for following with me throughout this journey. When I started to blog, I did it more for my kids than anything else, and now I find that several have come along for the ride. Having written this today has been good. I think I am going to close the door on sharing any more. I just wanted to give you a glimpse into our thoughts and lives for the last little while.

It's All a Matter of Perspective

I have been spending a fair amount of time these past three days reading a forum at www.cysticfibrosis.com about a young woman who has just received a double lung transplant. She began blogging a couple of months ago about going for evaluation for a transplant. Lindsey is 24, has cystic fibrosis, and has been on oxygen for quite some time. She is one of the most upbeat, enthusiastic young women I think I've ever met.

All the folks who've been reading that particular forum have formed a regular cheering squad for her. Her call for new lungs came on her mother's birthday. How about that for a present! The lady who checked her in to the hospital has the same first name as her mother. One day Lindsey was having lunch with a friend. They were talking about the surgery. A lady sitting nearby heard the conversation and said that she almost interrupted to tell her that she is a nurse who cares for post-transplant patients. But she didn't. Guess who's taking care of Lindsey? That very lady.

Two days after surgery, she's extubated, up and moving around, and her lungs are doing great. It has just been so moving to read comments by others who have had transplants and are enjoying breathing freely, something that we take so for granted.

I just came from reading another post. A young lady wrote that she is celebrating turning 30. She said she thought she would never reach that age. Now she's shooting for 35. Again, the responses by those reading just fill my eyes with tears. When you consider that years ago, the future was so bleak for anyone with CF. There still is no cure. The median life expectancy is now 37.

The Cystic Fibrosis Foundation sponsors a Great Strides Walk in the spring. You don't hear as much about it as the M*rch of Dimes or the breast cancer walks, but families and friends are out there raising funds for research. Nearly ninety cents of every dollar goes to research from the foundation. I would encourage you to donate to this group. As you know, I have a very personal interest in this since Ella is one of the 30,000 people in the United States with CF. The goal is to someday have the letters CF stand for "Cure Found."

Ella Marie Whitcomb, born August 4, 2006, diagnosed with cystic fibrosis soon after birth after a screening blood test in Virginia. Does your state automatically screen for CF in newborns? The last time I read, only 22 states have instituted this screening. Early detection is a key to good care for these children.

Back in Florida

I arrived home Monday, April 30, around noon. It's always good to get away and equally as good to get back home, although I must confess I didn't want to leave Ella. My two weeks with her was time well spent. She's just turning nine months old on Friday, so you know that she is at such a cute age.

Whenever I call David and ask how she is, he always says "Mom, she's such a happy baby." And indeed she is. We had quite a time of bonding. Sarah and I will go up for her first birthday, so I'm hoping that she doesn't forget me in that time. At least, maybe it won't take too long to get reacquainted.

Summer is arriving here. Mornings and evenings are pleasant, but it's getting quite warm during the day. We need rain so badly here. As I drove home through Georgia, it was quite smoky from the brush fires there.

As I was driving south on I-95, there were lots of cars traveling north...some more of the snowbirds making their migration back home. I haven't been out enough to notice a difference on our roadways yet.

I hope to post quite regularly now. I've been offline for a few days. My computer crashed while I was at David's, and I took it to my fix-it guy Monday evening. He was able to bring everything back for me so that I didn't lose any of my data. Yippee!

Look in the mirror. What do you see?

What a difference from the first time I spent any time with Ella. In October, she was just in her third month, beginning to smile and coo. What fun we had. I remember just before I left, I was playing with her one day, and I held her in front of me. As we looked in the mirror, she saw something that made her laugh. It wasn't a big laugh, but it was a laugh.

Now after she wakes from her nap, we sometimes sit in her room and read some books, and then she loves to sit in front of the mirror and talk to and laugh at the baby in the mirror. What fun! I sit behind her, and she'll look at me in the mirror to make sure I'm not missing anything. We've really bonded during my time here. I think she'll probably remember me the next time that I come. I hope so.

She showed a nice weight gain at the doctor's office when she went the other day. That was good news. The doctor said that they should increase the enzymes a little bit. From reading about adults with CF, adjusting the amount on enzymes one needs seems to be ongoing.

My time is coming to an end. I'm leaving on Sunday to drive back to Florida for some meetings. I'm going house-hunting tomorrow--well house looking.

Followup on a fall

Well, good morning. I'm here to report that I'm alive and well after my tumble on Saturday. When I fell flat on my face, my glasses were between my face and the ground. They got bent up quite a bit, but the very kind optician at W*l Mart got them pretty well aligned for me. They're a little bit scratched, but not too bad. My right wrist was very sore, and I wondered about carrying and handling Ella, but by this morning, the soreness is about gone. My neck is still a little bit stiff, but all in all, I feel fine. I am thankful not to have been hurt badly. I know that one of these days it might not be like that.

It has been a heart-wrenching experience being in Virginia this past week. As I've driven around, I've seen visible signs of support for those grieving at Virginia Tech and throughout the whole state. Yesterday, Sunday, I had planned to meet a lady whom I met in Bradenton who had come back home to Waynesboro. I had planned to go to church with her, but after I fell and was quite sore, I decided to stay home and give my body a chance to recover a bit.

I turned on the TV and found a church service from a church in Richmond. One of the young women whose life was taken had graduated from the church's high school in 2006. The service was, in a way, a memorial service to her. Members of her high school class, of whom there might have been 12 or so, spoke of her faith and her determination to live it out before her classmates at VT. The lieutenant governor of the state was in the service, spoke, and prayed for the whole situation. The choir sang "It is Well." How many times has that song brought comfort to hurting hearts! For the Christian, the loss is great, but we have the sweet and calm assurance that all is well, and one day we shall see Him face to face. Some just get that opportunity sooner than others; some, in our human way of thinking are taken before their time, but as the Lord gently reminded me when my husband was taken in an untimely death, He knows our days. My times are in His hands.