Why Grandma is My Running Buddy

Dry trips to the store are inevitable when I’m alone.

Bored looks, numb-faced employees drool over their tasks as I skid across the waxed floors with my monumental cart for purchase.

I drop vegetables, slip on spilled milk, and suffer various wounds from dropped doors in vain.

No one would stir the slightest for a woman’s immediate need.

If heads turn, it is away from the public scenes I unintentionally provide for the nervous giggles to passing shoppers.

But all of this changes when I bring one person in particular.

Grandma needs to go to the store. Okay, this will be uneventful. Just help her get what she needs and drive her home. No big deal. No scene.

As we scuttle across the crowed parking lot, the red sea parts to accommodate our way as doors open fifteen feet from our shocked faces.

Heads turn as we enter the building, many with a kind smile, others in a curious kind of surprise.

As we sit together for lunch, we receive compliments like I’ve never heard.

Strong men carry heavy packages to the car as we follow.

We look like we both just woke up, yet I hear multiple comments on how nice we look. Grandma giggles with her city girl charm while I just watch.

She commences to talk about getting a new hair cut, but I’m thinking.

Who’s sorry?

Here I am, a college student with weight of my world on my shoulders. A few bills to pay, a little time to make some dough, and a smile for the needy. That’s a dime a dozen.

But who has the opportunity to sit with this rare gem of a soul, a history book we’ve forgotten to read, a hand we’ve forgotten to hold, a beauty we’ve forgotten see. 

Women like me have shunned the world and many of us don’t deserve the respect of honorable men with our snide remarks, haughty sneers, and sniper-like reflexes.

But women like Grandma understand the beauty of feminine grace.

Women like her aren’t afraid to be women.

They aren’t afraid to pray.

That’s why I’m happy to take her.

 

 

“Do You Want to be a Model?”

As a child, I loved o be different.

If mom told me they clashed, I wore those colors with pride.

Wrinkles? They gave my closet some much needed texture!

So what if it’s falling apart – I never got rid of my favorite shorts, usually someone else discarded them in my sleep.

 

But I’m trying to change.

 

And somehow, I’m discovering that comments are changing from the outside world.

My dad’s eyes don’t widen when I come into the kitchen anymore with fear and trembling, reconsidering our second row seats at church.

I don’t stuff pairs of shirts and shorts under my bed to be ‘fashionably prepared’ for the next two weeks.

I haven’t left the house in a while it seems, wearing every shade I could find of my favorite color purple.

The lady friend that once approached my mother with a bar of soap now approaches her on my behalf with compliments.

 

It must be working- I’m beginning to fit in to the world around me.

 

One recent evening in particular of the new ‘me’ was the perfect opportunity to test my presentation skills. My mom and I were invited to a private party at a quaint little French restaurant in town with dim lights, relaxing music, and tempting appetizers.

I came in my best.

My practical closet has a few exceptions for events like these, and I found the perfect flowing dress for the occasion. Even a waiter commented as I strutted by.

ACCOMPLISHMENT.

No one would ever know me as the wrinkly girl whose only fancy dresses were stored in hiding by her mother to ‘preserve’ them for special occasions.

As the evening drew to a close, I noticed a couple of well-dressed women staring at me from the other side of the room.

When I returned their focused gazes, they recoiled by chirping, “we’re just admiring your hair.”

My HAIR?

Now, I could pull off the trendiest looks with fashion, but I completely overlooked my hair. Yeah, I had it trimmed every once and a while, but left the mousy colored, fine frizzy locks to their own course, even neglecting to brush them at times. Tonight, I didn’t even bother to pull it back into a make-shift bun.

When I saw the women approaching me, I braced myself for the worst, hoping for the best.

Would all my efforts to fit in pay off? Would they recognize my hard work?

“Do you want to be a model?”

I blinked.

The second girl stepped forward and said, “Well actually, we have a hair salon and to test our hair colors, we need virgin hair to see the colors. Do you have virgin hair?”

Quickly reviewing my Latin word roots, I managed to understand her and responded, “Yes.”

“We noticed!” the first smiled, looking at her friend, then continued, “You can have any color work done for free, accepting the color price.”

“We’ve been looking for girls with virgin hair- they’re really hard to find.”

I graciously took their cards, a little surprised about the conversation, yet trying to make up for my bewilderment with a crooked smile.

I hope they really were distracted by the hair.

During the drive home as I related the story to Mama, remembering their last comment.

It hit me that this may be one point in which I do not want to fit in.

I seems that I have something that money cannot buy.

Apparently, there is something on my head that is rare, and maybe even original, that beauty treatments cannot rival.

Do I want to be a model?

Well, it seems that the best ‘models’ have something that others don’t.

I think I’ll keep it, thank you.

Maybe I’ll give it the respect that it deserves, too.

 

Glory Around the Corner

 

The suffering of today in perspective of tomorrow and forever. 1Peter 4:12-19 says it best.

Monumental Sacrifice of the American Spirit

Nestled among the quiet streets of Comfort Texas lies a silent monument blanketed in towering oaks inscribed in foreign letters.

Beside the towering twenty-foot obelisk stands a thirteen-stared flag which flies perpetually at half-mast.

Strangest of all, in the midst of German inscriptions of names, places, and events is chiseled with great care the words ‘Treue Der Union’, which means, in German, ‘loyalty to the union’.

Dedicated on August 10, 1866, the Treue Der Union monument is the only Civil war era union monument in former confederate soil.
Fleeing religious persecution in Germany, new German-Americans living in central Texas refused to fight against their beloved home and attempting to join Union forces through Mexico were ambushed by confederate irregulars under James Duff at the Nueces River in 1862.

In what Texas history recognizes as the Nueces Massacre, thirty-four of the conscientious objectors were killed, others executed after being taken prisoner while several drowned attempting to cross the raging Rio Grande river.

With a vengeance meant to strike terror against future rebellions, the Confederates dishonored the men, mostly German, by leaving their bodies unburied.

After the war, leaders in Texas bought a lot in Comfort, Texas for twenty dollars to build this monument to honor the bravery and sacrifice of these true Americans.

Recovering the remains of the dead, local residents and the families of the fallen held a funeral for the fallen with three hundred in attendance, accompanied by federal troops who fired a salute.

Although built to honor only a small group of men, the Treue Der Union monument recognizes the manifestation of true American spirit as true bravery is found in the humble and lonely rather than the strong crowds.

 

 

If I Can Stop One Heart From Breaking…

If I can stop one heart from breaking,
I shall not live in vain:
If I can ease one life the aching,
Or cool one pain,
Or help one fainting robin
Unto his nest again,
I shall not live in vain. Emily Dickinson

The stories and accolades of the brave have long lined the shelves and memories of eager young hearts throughout the entire history of man.

From the last stand of the Alamo to the rescue of a child’s unwitting kitten, heroes are recognized by young and old alike as they are emulated in every way.

But what is it that makes ones’ life worth the living? Surely not a selfish life, but one that leaves noble footprints in the sands of time.

To poet Emily Dickinson, only the investment into the lives of others would justify her living. To stop a heart from breaking or to ease the aching, her life would not be in vain. The action of laying the hand on ones’ shoulder in their deepest sadness, to stand close in their most dire decision: these are the actions that set us apart.

 

There is no thanks for the child who endures the sadness of his mother, bearing her burden as willingly as he can along with his own as they walk through the consequences of an unfaithful father. Day in and day out, without a tear to the loss of the carefree years of youth, he toils with the greatest of hopes, knowing his reward is great even if the only assurance is the smallest alleviation of the mother’s pain.

It is not easy for him to take up the charge of a tenderhearted caregiver, but he gives his best for her. In his eyes, he is like the fainting robin in Dickinson’s poem, and he is working to help her from her humiliating fall, back into the nest of stability and security.

While the world shouts the praises of the young, there is few who sacrifice the coveted for the disregarded, keeping company to those in tears rather than with those in laughter.

Yet for all of the riches that this world has to offer, the young man has gained a greater reward: a life not lived in vain.

What Makes a Queen a Lady Part 4

 

August twenty-fourth 1814 marked a historical event for the newly-built city of Washington as Dolley organized a final dinner party for her guests in effort to calm the spirits of the frightened members of Washington D.C.’s community.

With the war of 1812 well on the way, British troops repeatedly threatened Washington city with fire and ruin and supported their declarations with a speedy advance across American cities set on taking the executive throne from the Madison administration.

Certain that they would not come twenty miles within the

mansion, Dolley collectively awaited the sure warning of British advancement before following her friend’s frantic warnings to leave the city, but as time passed, her hopes for the salvation of the symbol a new nation’s pride dwindled to a quick evacuation of the beautiful mansion.

Before leaving the doomed building, Dolley ordered for the rescue of the famed portrait of George Washington, removing it from the wall with the help of two servants and securing it to a safer place.

Like a baton of liberty, Dolley carried not a canvas, but the image of American hope that the enemy wished to destroy.

The British would have no pleasure in the dishonor of American independence. While the White House suffered a complete loss, Dolley’s courage and strength re-lit the fires of patriotism in a fearful hour of loss and humiliation.

This picture closely duplicates itself one hundred and forty-nine years later on a sunny morning in Dallas Texas.

President Kennedy and his wife sat in an open convertible car cruising the narrow streets of Dealey Plaza lined with screaming admirers. In a time of peace; perfect peace because when youth and prosperity reign, one would come to expect an equally uneventful harmony, but it was not meant to be.

Kennedy Assassination

In a gruesome crack, the shattered pieces of an American symbol lay cradled in Jackie’s gloved hands. Instantly, she knew he was dead. In desperation, a shock-struck nation turned to the one in whose hands the head of America fell, and it was her response in that moment that would have ensured the ultimate purpose of an assassin.

But raising her chin, the queen held her peace with the same grace that crowned her, bearing a banner of hope and honor that saved a nation.

The grace the beauty delivered by these women was tested in these awful hours and they endured as only true ladies can.

A woman can attend schools to walk with a gliding flair.

To master the art of hospitality, one only needs practice.

Speaking in a low, pleasing tone needs vocal training while stylists can create beauty from beastliness.

But a woman whose love for others is stronger than her love of herself, overcoming the tearing tragedy of complete personal loss with uncommon grace and unfading beauty, that woman has become a lady.

Time and modernists have sought to erase the simple principles displayed during these infamously unforgettable hours with their own agenda.

Modern media gushes over the lives of both of these queenly leaders, seeking to create fashionable puppets of them and use their stories to further a womanized culture, painting them as the heads of feminist waves in American culture but the true intent of these ladies’ lives will forever lie in the remembrance of a nation that overcame because of the example of women who overcame.

What Makes a Queen a Lady Part 3

An invitation to the home and parlor of a Queen is impossible for millions of people to acquire and a visit from America’s First Lady seems laced with equal impossibility.

Nevertheless, on Valentine’s Day in 1962, First Lady Jacqueline Kennedy glided into the American living rooms of fifty-six million viewers by courtesy of CBS television to conduct A Tour of the White House with Mrs. John F. Kennedy.

With an inviting, warm, and careful air, Jackie’s quiet demeanor echoed across radio waves throughout the country. 

During the Kennedy Administration, peace had at last settled on the American home front transforming the White House into a Camelot that ushered a new era of grace and uncommon beauty reigned by the youthful Kennedy family.

With soft footsteps, Jackie enters the camera’s eye with a breathtaking aura to display the American treasures that she discovered in the White House Restoration Project that she initiated to preserve the history and majesty to make Americans proud of the glittering Executive mansion.

The articles that survived history from centuries past sit cradled in Jackie’s white hands as she carefully relates their individual story, the past President who owned them, and the restoration that she oversaw to reveal them to America.

In a smart two-piece day dress in dark red wool, Jackie once again startled the nation’s fashion sense with a sweeping exemplary start, rivaling the visual art displayed all around her.

The queen is beautiful, bright and good.

The dazzling jewels left by these bright, shining queens of history are emblematic of all things elegant, sophisticated, and charismatic- in fact, the queenly gentlewomen shared so many assets that they are equally revered as true ladies as well as queens.

But what makes a queen worthy of the title lady?

Both Dolley and Jackie were not unaccustomed to hard work as it may seem by their effortless aristocracy.

Dolley grew up as a Quaker, and as slavery was prohibited in Quaker homes, she would have worked to take their place as a young child.

Although her father worked in New York as a stock broker, Jackie was a lifelong literary lover and at age twenty-three worked for the Washington-Times-Herald as an inquiring camera girl interviewing people on a variety of subjects.

But is a lady only defined as a diligent worker? Something greater elevated these queens to ladyship as history portrays thus.

 

Continue reading at part 4.

What Makes a Queen a Lady Part 2

 

Placing a gloved hand on the glittering handle, the clammy footman releases the lock on two massive stained doors which unexpectedly swing wide to welcome the next visitor to a fantastic gathering in a dazzling chamber filled with jovial gentlemen and giggling ladies who help themselves to the pleasantries of a high society evening party.

Portrait

If one happened by at the newly constructed White House during the Madison administration, the affairs of the First Lady would nevertheless occupy his talk in close edition to the concerns of the fledgling nation.

For to stand as a guest at one of Dolley Madison’s world-famous drawing room parties was like posing in the court of the magnificent Queen of hearts, to which she was often referred.

As Mrs. Madison gracefully glides through the room, making new acquaintances and greeting friends, her attire immediately attracts the attention of the most indifferent at heart with the flowing yards of brightly colored silk, glittering like a prism with endless color, contrasting greatly with the popular choice of black that the other women chose to wear.

Turning from the walking gallery of color, a similar pattern and taste cries out from the furnishings and decorations that unsuccessfully compete with Dolley’s own appearance in the shimmering light.

The woman doubtless has tremendous taste, but her careful attention to please the wants of each guest with an elegant mercy reveals the very quality that caused her ascension to this throne: her ability as a queen.

Dolley Madison is one of the most charming and charismatic first ladies of American history and continues to enchant posterity with her unfading legacy of beauty. Truly, none other can grasp the rein of political and cultural power with powdered white hands as did Dolley, but time alone can tell.

Part 3 Coming soon!

What Makes a Queen A Lady Part 1

 

Skimming library books and internet sources, one has to sift through mountains of modernized history rewritten for newfangled purposes that lean dangerously away from factual events.

In attempt of researching the true accounts of historical figures that shine today from their places in history, many settle for a vigorous game of controversy war while those who seek the truth journey on until the timeless fact is revealed.

Dolley

Despite common trivia about First Ladies Dolley Madison and Jacqueline Kennedy, their legacy of robustly passionate personality was not for the furthering of women in power as masked in today’s culture, but each prompt a question as to the source of their ladyship that set them apart in today’s eyes.
Of the forty-four Presidential administrations and First Ladies that have served this country, Dolley and Jackie stand out as America’s Queens.

Many women have served under this name, but how many have truly earned the title of a lady?

Jackie

History holds magnificent discovery for those who are willing to find the truth about Dolley, Jackie, and the role they each played to earn the name ‘lady’.

Stay Tuned for part 2!

I’m Finally Free

 

Freely will I give, for freely have I received.

 

Free of excuses,

Free of the pride.

He has opened my heart to the case of the needy, extended my hand to the case of the unwanted. He has opened my eyes to see His glorious face, lifted the veil of confusion and self-righteousness to understand the undeniable plight of the least of these around me.

 

After a continual battle, the love has won.

 

The needs around me are no longer simply setting for my presentation of good deeds, but a setting for the manifestation of my Savior’s character, mercy, and grace. The gifts I receive are meant to be given; they are not mine to keep. 

 

So freely will I give, for freely have I received.