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The last few lines of Loretta Lynn's song, "Coal Miner's Daughter" have been haunting me, lately. "Not much left but the floor, Nothin' lives here anymore, 'Cept the memories of a coal miner's daughter." So, I woke up around one this morning, and here's what I wrote. Call it a poem, call it whatever you like. Just don't throw anything at me. Ok? lol Home with Mamaw was making that last turn and seeing the afternoon sun reflecting off the trees at the bottom of the hill Home with Mamaw was walking up the front steps and going right in Home with Mamaw was cornbread in the microwave and Pintos on the stove Home with Mamaw was “Coffee’s on!” and visitors after church Home with Mamaw was the scents of fresh cut wood and earth in the summer Home with Mamaw was the bite of a fresh snow and woodsmoke in the winter Home with Mamaw was seeing the moon on a clear night Home with Mamaw was impassable roads covered in ice Home with Mamaw was an old dolly piled with laughing kids Home with Mamaw was a slightly flattened ball after a game of Andy Over Home with Mamaw was well water, biscuits and sweetened rhubarb Home with Mamaw was warming yourself by a wood-burning stove before school Home with Mamaw was sled riding down the hill on Christmas Day Home with Mamaw was too many bee stings out in the yard Home with Mamaw was “Can’t make it through the day without a song about the Lord.” Home with Mom was plenty to eat Home with Mom was noise...always noise Home with Mom was ball games all weekend long Home with Mom was “Get out of the way! Let me sweep up this hair!” Home with Mom was toys everywhere I step Home with Mom was sisters sleep together Home with Mom was “Are you ready to go?” Home with Mom was “Cleanliness is next to godliness.” Home with Mom was her way or the highway Home with Mom was church when we could make it Home with Mom was hearing her sing “Thank You Lord for Your Blessings on Me.” Home with Mom was baby sisters to hold Home with Mom was left over biscuits in a baggie to take on the bus back to the blind school Home with Mom was home made breakfast to go on long bus trips to school on cold mornings Home with Mom was hot chocolate or tea to keep me warm before catching the bus on those cold mornings Home today is TV’s blaring so loud I can’t hear myself think Home today is the happy sound of children laughing Home today is Saturdays beside my man, not needing to say a word Home today is laundry that seems never done Home today is dishes that never stay clean Home today is quiet enough at night to write Home today is reading the Bible at the kitchen table Home today is learning to bake sinfully sweet treats Home today is long talks with my man after listening ears are asleep Home today is joying alongside my children when they learn something new Home today is playing in the yard, Home today is ticking baseboard heaters in the winter Home today is a noisy air conditioner in the summer Home today is neighbors way too close Home today is too small for visitors after church

AT SEVENTEEN by Pam Hamrick

I’m really not sure how to start this. Some things just happen without any reason, I guess and memories come flooding back.

Recently, I saw a post on face book from a teenage girl who said her life wasn’t worth anything, and she just wished she could die. When I was a teenager, I took a handful of pills. To this day I don’t know what they were. For some reason, Mom figured out what I did, and off to the ER we went. They gave me a little cup of caffeine and cups of lukewarm water to drink so I would vomit them back up. That may be why I don’t like the taste of coffee, to this day. I guess God wasn’t ready for me to leave this world, then, cause I’m still here.

Anyway, I remember my brothers coming to the hospital, and everyone was putting pressure on me to tell them why I did this. I finally told them it was because of a boy, just to get them off my back, but that wasn’t the truth. The truth is it was because I thought that my Mom loved my sisters more than she did me. You see, I am the oldest of three girls. I am adopted. My birth mom and my mom are sisters. I have six half brothers and one half sister from my birth mom. Maybe, this is something that all adopted kids go through, but I remember feeling unloved, unwanted and like nobody cared about me. In my heart, I knew this was not true, but I just could not get this out of my head. I lay there in the darkened bedroom and cried and thought I would just end it all. That way, I would be out of everyone’s way. I just figured they wouldn’t care or miss me, anyway.

Years later, I told Mom how I felt, sometimes. She took me in her arms and asked how I could think that? She said I was her special baby, because she got to choose whether to take me or not. She said she never once regretted bringing me home from the hospital, when I was born.

After Mom passed away and we were going thru her things, my sister and I found a journal-like book. In it Mom had written about the day she brought me home, as a newborn. She wrote how happy she was and how she felt that now, she had someone who would love her unconditionally. Oh, how I wish she would’ve told me that face to face.

So, to all the teenagers out there who think you are unloved and unwanted, just remember that you are not the only one who has ever felt this way. Just keep taking life one day at a time and hang in there; your life is worth something. After all, Jesus died for you, just the same as He did for me! And, I am very glad that my life did not end at seventeen.

*****

If you would like your story posted on here, drop me a comment or send an email to
oldtimechristian@gmail.com

Thanks for reading, and be sure to come back on Wednesday.

A Writing Wednesday: Memories

They say to write what you know. Write what you feel. So, here are some thoughts from yesterday.

I stepped outside to walk to the Post Office this afternoon, and like a fog, the scents of damp earth and wood smoke surrounded me. Added to the sixty-four degree temperature, it made me think of spring, not the last day of January. It also made me remember springtime at my grandparents’ house.

Memories are funny things. Sometimes, they bring feelings of sadness, especially when you’re remembering a loved-one who has passed away. Other times, memories bring joy. Just like people, memories are different. Yesterday’s memory makes me a little sad and a little happy, too.

Springtime at Mamaw’s. Faint wood smoke lingering in the air from the chilly morning a few hours before, damp earth just waiting for something to be planted in it, the smells of homemade beef stew or Pinto beans cooking on the gas range in the kitchen, the sound of split logs hitting the walls of the wood house as my papaw prepared for the next winter, I remember like it was yesterday.

Knowing I was home, I’d hurry from the car and up the front steps. I’d grab the handle of the screen door and walk right in, knowing I was welcome. The screen door would bang shut behind me, as I made my way toward the kitchen where homey smells of cooking food and Mamaw waited. I’d open the microwave, and sure enough, left over biscuits or cornbread would be arranged on a plate inside. Once, when there was only one biscuit left, my cousin and I fought over it, eventually tearing it in half so we both could get some.

Pulling out a chair, I would sit at the table and sigh. Usually, no one was interested in hearing about a twelve-year-old’s daily account of what her friends and latest crush had or had not said at school, but not Mamaw. She’d listen and give her advice, all the while making me feel like I was the most specialist girl in the whole wide world. And to her, I was, along with my sisters and my cousins. You’d have thought we kids hung the moon or turned in to God’s perfect angels over night. I miss being loved like that.

Sometimes, Mamaw and I would sing together. She was the one who taught me to hear the alto part in a song, and to this day, I can still hear her singing alto when I sing “Amazing Grace”.

Every time I catch a whiff of wood smoke, fresh snow or damp earth, I think about being at my grandparents’ house. I’m there, hearing dogs bark close by, remembering how the sun goes down behind the mountain around six P.M. in the summertime. More than anything, I want to go back home. I want my kids to play in the yard I played in. I want them to peel boiled eggs, just like we did one Easter, and leave their colored egg shells in the yard for me to find, just like Mamaw found our mess. I want to sit on the porch in the morning with a cup of coffee and listen to the song of birds and the occasional whoosh of a passing car. But, time is elusive, and I can never go home again.

These memories are unique to me. No one else can have the exact same memory as I have. But, like an album of pictures, I can pull the memories out and cherish them time and time again. Probably the best thing about my memories is I can share them. Sharing them keeps them alive, and in my memories, Mamaw lives.

Birthdays and New Year's Day

I turned thirty-three the other day. You know when you’re a kid and a grown-up asks you how it feels to be such and such age? Well, if you were to ask me how it feels to be thirty-three, I’d have to say it feels a lot like thirty-two but it a bit more depressing. It’s not that I’m embarrassed or depressed about my age, but I can’t help thinking that I’m growing older and nothing spectacular seems to be happening. That sounds silly, I know, but it’s true. I guess when we’re teenagers, we think we know it all and we’re going to change the world with what we know. Then, when we’re all grown-up, we realize we didn’t know it all, and the world is very much not impressed with the little that we do know. lol

There was a song out a few years ago called, “1985”. I remember laughing when I first heard it. It was 2005, I was pregnant with my first baby, and I was on my way home from work. The radio was playing in the van. The driver turned up the volume, and I heard, “Springsteen, Madonna. Way before Nervana, there was U2 and Blondy and music still on MTV. Her two kids in high school, they tell her that she’s uncool. But, she’s still preoccupied in 1985.” :D

I remembered a lot of the things mentioned in the song. I remember my dad watching MTV, and it was music videos. I remembered listening to Springsteen and Madonna. A cousin of mine used to have a cassette tape of White Snake. 1985, in 2005 was just as real to me, as it was to the woman in the song. A few days after I heard that song, I was sitting at a table and talking to some kids in middle school. The one said something about going to a Tracy Lawrence concert. I said something like, “He was popular when I was thirteen.” One of the girls was like, “I know. That was like when I was born.” Haha! That, y’all was the first time in my life that I ever felt old. lol

A friend of mine, when she turned forty, decided it was time to sit down and write the book she always wanted to write. So, that is what she did. Her one daughter is married, her other daughter is engaged to be married, and her homeschooled son is in high school, doing most of the work on his own. Me, on the other hand, now, I wrote a book, and now I’m trying to concentrate on raising my children who are practically still babies. I don’t know what nuggets of wisdom I’ms upposed to gain in comparing my friend and I,, but I wonder, when my kids are grown, will I look back and find something I’d wish I had done? If so, wonder what that will be?

I’ve always been a dreamer. Some of my dreams are big and some aren’t. Some are way too outrageous for my own good, and some, while not too big, are big enough that I don’t have room on my already-full plate for them to ever come to fruition. But, still, I wonder if any of those dreams will ever amount to anything. Maybe, they will become books. I love making up stories, after all. Maybe, the really outrageous dreams are only meant to give me something to smile about. Then again, we can’t see the future, therefore, we never know what God has in store for us.

It’s a new year. Last year, as I told my 6-year-old on New Year’s Eve, is gone. We’ll never see 2011 again. Babies were born last year, family members died. Some folks got married, and others got divorced. Those babies will never be teeny babies again. Those who have died, we’ll never see again this side of eternity. The person you married will never be your fiance, again, and the spouse you divorced is no longer yours to have and to hold. But, since we’re alive and kicking, God isn’t finished with us. He has something He wants us to do, somewhere He wants us to go, someone out there He wants us to witness to. And, if you don’t know Him, He’s calling your name and has something wonderful planned for you, a relationship with Him. Since we can’t go back to yesterday, we have no choice but to plow ahead to the rest of today.. We’re not promised tomorrow, after all. We have to live in the “now”. Now, is all we have.

As for resolutions, I made one. I promised myself that I would do the best I could do in my now. I’m not going to worry about the decisions I made yesterday. I am not going to worry about the decisions I have to make tomorrow. I am going to live and do my best right now. Right now, I’m going to love my children and show them how much I love them. Right now, I’m going to do the job God has given me. Right now, I’m going to be the best wife I know how to be.

Last year, about this time, if you care to go back that far on this blog, I was writing about obedience. Nothing much has changed since January 2011; it has, however, gotten better. Three years ago, about this time, I had just published my first book. A few things have changed since then, mostly I’ve fallen off cloud nine and realized writing isn’t as easy as I thought it would be. :) What will I blog about in January 2013? What will be different next year? Only God knows. But, my goal for this year is to live in such a way that when I look back to January 2012, I have no regrets. How about you?

Monday's Random Thoughts

People, like characters in books, are multidimensional. That is a big word for a Monday, I know, but it simply means that there are a lot of different things that make up our likes and dislikes, our hopes, our dreams, and how we feel about everything. People are not like numbers, always the same no matter what. We can't be classified, even though some would like us to be.

Where didd this observation come from? I have no idea. Hahaha! I guess I was just thinking about myself and realizing that I, and everyone else enjoys or does not enjoy a lot of different things for a lot of different reasons.

I believe we can think we know someone. We can know their likes and dislikes, what they believe in, what they were like as a child, and why they have a passion for this or that, but even then, there are things about us that remain a mystery. Maybe, if my husband and I are blessed with 50 plus years of marriage, we might know each other pretty well, but I'm not so sure.

I developed a liking for hot tea with sugar in it, because my mom always drank it. She likes so much sugar in hers, though that if you let it sit in the fridge long enough it would turn to pure sugar. lol Me, on the other hand, now I like it a little less sweet. I also like a drop of milk in my hot tea. I do not like milk in my iced tea, though. My grandparents always liked coffee, and now I like it, too. I grew up drinking Pepsi, but I'd rather have Coke. My mom always salted my food so much when I was a kid, because that's the way she liked it. Now, though, I don't use salt hardly at all. I wore jeans when I was a teenager, and I like wearing them now. I grew up in a 14 by 70 trailer with 3 younger sisters, and now I really need a few minutes a day without any noise at all. I used to like to sit in the dark in my bedroom as a kid and listen to audio books. Now, I am totally blind and still like to be read to. Speaking of that, I think I developed a love of audio books, because my mom always read out loud to me. I don't mind the smell of perm solution, because my mom is a beautician. I like music, because I grew up hearing so much of it. From Southern Gospel to Bruce Springsteen, I was exposed to a lot of different genres and styles.

We're all like that, different and as complex as ever.

. I asked a lady once what her favorite kind of music was. Her answer made me laugh. She said, "I like country and heavy metal." lol
I still can't find the connection, there, but - whatever.

I grew up in a mostly white community. Most of the folks who lived around me were very prejudiced. But, because I am blind, I went to a school 20 miles away in a community that was not mostly white. Most of the kids I went to elementary school with were black. Most of my friends were black. All of the kids in my classes at school were the same to me. I did not grow up to be prejudiced against someone because of the color of their skin. As I have mentioned in a previous entry, I had a teacher who was Jewish. Therefore, I did not grow up thinking that someone who believes different from me is a "bad person". Experiences we have as children help shape what we will become, but they do not define who we will be.

The one thing I know for a fact, the one thing I am sure of, is that God knows me better than I know myself. He knows you, too. He created us and knows what makes us tick. He also knows who and what we will be in 10 or 20 years. I am glad I do not know.

This entry seems random, and I can't seem to keep my mind on it. When I drank my coffee this morning, I felt the heat of it in my ears. What's up with that? My ears don't hurt, but it felt good to swallow something hot. My kids won't stop fighting, and i had to separate them. Why do they fight after such a good day, yesterday? Why do I feel like it's wrong to want some time to myself? I guess we all need to do our own thing and be left alone for a while. Y'all take care, keep us in prayer, and come back Wednesday.

When I Grow Up, I want...

"What do you want to be when you grow up?"

Adults ask children this question all the time. I don't know if it's just that they have no idea what to talk to the kid about, or if they really want to know, but it is a common question. Grown-ups asked me that, when I was a young'un, too.

I remember answering like any other kid. I want to be a doctor, a nurse, a lawyer, an astronaut, a writer, a teacher. The great thing about children, is they don't think about the money they will make or what type of schooling it will take to achieve that goal. They just want to be it, whatever "it" is.

When I was about 6, 7 or 8 years old, I remember wanting to grow up to be just like my mom. Funny thing, is I see that same tendency in my own 6 year old. She mimics me, patterns her style of doing things after me, and I find myself wondering if she wants to be like me when she grows up. Fshew, that's a scary thought. lol Faith and I procrastinate together, but when we finally get up and do what we're supposed to do, we often start singing together. I'll be washing dishes, while she is picking up her toys, and I'll start a song. Before too long, she's singing right along with me, and soon our chores are done. But, I digress. :)

I don't think I thought seriously about what I wanted to be when I grew up until I was around 15 or so. I thought about it a lot, but there just didn't seem to be much choice. On the one hand, folks would say I could be anything I wanted to be. On the other hand, folks would say I had to be realistic. Having dreams was one thing, but at some point I had to come down to earth and think about what I truly wanted. There were jobs that blind people just didn't do, not because they were not smart enough but because it took sight to do those jobs. I was not, I was informed, ever going to be able to be an astronaut, a doctor, a nurse, a school bus driver, and I might as well get over it while I was still young. In my mind, that left only teaching.

After graduating high school, I did go to college, intending to be a teacher for the visually impaired, but both times i started school, I quit. Then, I got married, and for a time, being a house wife was enough. I went to a local vocational school for a year and received a certificate of completion for medical transcription, but no matter how hard I tried, I never got a job doing that. I did work for a time in Romney WV, preparing braille documents for mailing. After that, I worked at Blind Industries and Services of Maryland as a sewing machine operator. Then, I went to the school of hard knocks and learned what a selfish woman I really was. Or, put more plainly, I got pregnant and became a mom. lol

Now, with my 33rd birthday fast approaching, I have finally figured out what I want to be when I grow up. :) I want to graduate from medical school, so that I can have the know-how to diagnose my families' illnesses and do something about them. I want to go get my driver's license, so that I can give disabled folks a ride where ever they want to go. Finally, just for grins and giggles, I want to be an airplane pilot.

A couple of days ago, I took my 3 year old to the doctor. I KNEW she was sick. For a couple of nights she had had a fever. She was coughing, some and sneezing, occasionally. I didn't know for sure, but I thought it was probably an ear infection. For one, her breath smelled funny, and when my girls' breath smells like that, they need an antibiotic. Just for the record, I've only been wrong once. :) Sure enough, the doctor looked in to her ears and both were infected. She's on an antibiotic. So, am I a doctor, sort of? Maybe. What about a teacher? I only have 2 students, but I'm teaching all the time. Faith is learning about word problems by counting how many bananas we have and then figuring out how many loaves of banana bread I could make with them. lol She's learning to read, and that comes in handy when I need labels on canned foods read to me. So, am I a teacher? Why, yes I am.

As for the astronaut, lawyer and pilot, well, those will have to wait a while. lol My mom always said I'd make a good lawyer, because I like to argue. Ha! While at Space Camp in Huntsville Alabama, I learned that even if I could see, I'm too short to go in to space. As for flying, anybody out there game for taking me up in their plane?

Just for the record, people who are blind can do anything they set their mind to, even if that job requires sight. Where there's a will, there's a way. A few years ago, I read about a man who is blind graduating from medical school and earning his MD. Last year I read about a woman who is blind being a beautician. Several months ago, a man who is blind took his family for a drive around Daytona Speedway. He used technology created by the folks from the National Federation of the Blind and students from Virginia Tech, and drove around the track. They threw boxes in his way, someone even pulled out in front of him, and he and his family still live to tell the tale. I know a man who is blind, and he rides a bicycle without any sighted assistance. I have a friend who is blind, and she makes baskets and sews quilts. I have a friend on FaceBook who is blind, and she writes her impressions of WV ball games, and gets paid doing it.

Here's a couple of things I've been pondering on. First of all, have I grown up to be what I wanted to be? Yes, I have. I'm an author, a singer, a song writer, a piano player, a wife, a mom, a crocheter, a baker, but more important, I am a Christian. Except for the writing and piano, I have grown up to be what I thought my mother was at that time. Second, have I achieved all that I wanted to achieve? No, I have not. Remember that plane? I wonder if it will be as I imagine, now that I have no sight at all. I used to want to feel it lift in to the air and be able to look out and see the sky. Of course, I can't see the sky, but will it be as thrilling, anyway? Guess there's only one way to find out. :)