Hey Jack! It's almost Christmas, or the end of the world if you believe that crazy Mayan prediction. Either way, I'm prepared. My shopping is finished, my gifts are wrapped and I'm so excited to watch my nieces and nephews tear into their presents! In spite of the hurt the Hart family has felt over the past year, I realize how completely blessed I am; there's food on my table, a roof over my head, clothes on my back, love in my heart and peace in my soul. What more could a girl ask for?
I used to hear people talk about heaven and how they longed to go and I always thought they were a little over anxious. I mean, hellooooooo...I'd rather live, right? But, the older I get, and the more I miss my family that has passed, I totally get it. Heaven really does sound and feels sweeter every single day. It really does create a longing in which I really cannot describe. Just last week I had two very vivid dreams about my MaMa Coffey. Now, if you know me, you know that my MaMa Coffey was the berries; she was the icing on my childhood cake...the sweet little old lady who always made you feel loved and welcomed. Oh how I miss her! She's been gone since 1998 and I just cannot wait to see her again!! Then I think about my PaPa Coffey who passed before my parents were even married--to think that he will know me and I'll know him too. Talk about a first meeting! And of course, what a great reunion too with my dad and his parents...and Sarah...and my MaMa Coffey...it's all so exciting to think about, so it seems that I too have turned into one of those people who long to go. It's not at all scary, but like I said, a very real longing.
Whew, that was random.
So, who watches "Duck Dynasty" on A&E? Best. Show. On. TV. I'm hooked. I'm in love with bearded men. What's not to love? They're southern (love it), they have dimples (makes me weak), they love God (that's the BEST part), they're funny (do you know me?), and they love their family. I think I'm a long-lost cousin! I have to say, Uncle Si and Jase are my favorites. If you've never watched it...you should.
Anyway--Merry Christmas! And, should the world end tomorrow, don't worry about me! I'll be hugging, singing, meeting new people and getting reacquainted with some people I've been missing; what a day of rejoicing that will be, Jack! Hey!
Thursday, December 20, 2012
Tuesday, April 24, 2012
Random Thoughts
I guess here lately I've been thinking a lot about my dad; it's hard for me to believe that he's been gone almost 6 months. I still have a hard time referring to him in past tense and I suppose that will just take some getting used to. Not a day goes by that I don't think of him--sometimes with a tear but often with a smile.
I had the distinct pleasure of having my dad be my pastor for a number of years and it's odd what sticks with you. I guess I've heard my dad preach thousands of sermons through the years but there are parts of a few that have really stuck with me. If you knew my dad, you knew he was uber emotional. He was a big man with a big, tender heart. He was the man who, even after watching "Steel Magnolias" numerous times, cried every single time they unhooked Shelby from the machines. He bawled watching "Rudy." He cried at commercials, cried when he heard a moving song, cried when passed the graveyard and saw that they had dug his mothers grave. My dad...the big old softy. He cried every single time he preached and every single time he'd lead in prayer and to me, that means something. To me, it meant he loved deeply and cared much for his family, his friends, his flock. I just don't trust people who don't cry! That just isn't normal!
As the preachers child, we were at church every single time the doors opened. Missing just wasn't an option, so we never even asked to stay home. This may sound bizarre to some, but when that's all you've ever known, it's just the way it is. Some of my most wonderful, moving experiences have been at church and I'm glad that staying home never crossed my mind. Here's a couple of insightful things I distinctly remember my dad preaching about: once he preached about what he called "CEO's." You know--"Christmas and Easter Only" church members. We all know church members like that and it made me chuckle remembering that particular sermon. He also said once that ''we like to sow our wild oats and then pray for crop failure.'' There's a lot of truth in that statement.
Preachers kids have a hard time and this is a fact; if you think we're the wildest/meanest/worst kids ever--it's just because we hang around with the Deacon's kids!!
I had the distinct pleasure of having my dad be my pastor for a number of years and it's odd what sticks with you. I guess I've heard my dad preach thousands of sermons through the years but there are parts of a few that have really stuck with me. If you knew my dad, you knew he was uber emotional. He was a big man with a big, tender heart. He was the man who, even after watching "Steel Magnolias" numerous times, cried every single time they unhooked Shelby from the machines. He bawled watching "Rudy." He cried at commercials, cried when he heard a moving song, cried when passed the graveyard and saw that they had dug his mothers grave. My dad...the big old softy. He cried every single time he preached and every single time he'd lead in prayer and to me, that means something. To me, it meant he loved deeply and cared much for his family, his friends, his flock. I just don't trust people who don't cry! That just isn't normal!
As the preachers child, we were at church every single time the doors opened. Missing just wasn't an option, so we never even asked to stay home. This may sound bizarre to some, but when that's all you've ever known, it's just the way it is. Some of my most wonderful, moving experiences have been at church and I'm glad that staying home never crossed my mind. Here's a couple of insightful things I distinctly remember my dad preaching about: once he preached about what he called "CEO's." You know--"Christmas and Easter Only" church members. We all know church members like that and it made me chuckle remembering that particular sermon. He also said once that ''we like to sow our wild oats and then pray for crop failure.'' There's a lot of truth in that statement.
Preachers kids have a hard time and this is a fact; if you think we're the wildest/meanest/worst kids ever--it's just because we hang around with the Deacon's kids!!
Wednesday, March 21, 2012
Don't Trust...
Here's a few things to be wary of on the path of life (you can still love 'em though...I do):
Men who wear toupees. This is a sign of vanity and is it really safe for a man to be more vain than a woman?! NOT to be trusted. This also goes for men who wear nail polish and eyeliner. Certainly raises eyebrows...speaking of which...
Women who draw on bad, eyebrows. I can spot a bad drawn-on job from 50 paces. You really have to watch those women who have bleached blond hair and draw on big, black brows. Oh yeah, we've all seen her, and chances are, we're afraid of her. One should be wary of THAT lady simply because it's obvious she doesn't care...to look good...to smack your face...or to steal your husband.
People who bite their nails. Don't trust them in pressure situations; they're nervous.
Use extreme caution when carrying on a conversation with someone who has a catch-phrase. I say this for THEIR safety. How many times can you hear, "ya know what I'm sayin' " before you want to choke that person? After you hear it a couple of times, just excuse yourself from the conversation.
Another person to be wary of is the man/woman who constantly calls you 'sugar,' 'honey,' 'baby,' or 'darlin.' While it's perfectly acceptable in the south to address someone as 'honey' if someone does it repeatedly, it's because they haven't taken the time to learn your name. We are ALL worth our names being remembered. True story.
In the Facebook world--there are tons of people to watch out for and I'll caution you not to become one of the following people:
*The person who posts a picture of every item of food they eat (no. one. cares.)
*The person who has 9400 self portraits (vain? yes. you don't see the hot people doing that by the way)
*The person who feels the need to use completely inappropriate language in every status update (simply a cry out for attention for a person with low self-esteem)
*The person who will cut you down one minute and quote a bible verse the next (by your fruits we shall know you...and your fruit is, well...rotten)
*The person who can't spell worth a darn and they're a TEACHER?!?! or the person who can't differentiate between "you're, your, their, there, too, to, and two." Don't ask this person to help you with your homework.
*The hopeless teenager who has falls in and out of love every week. Would that child's parent PLEASE pay some attention to their child?
*The grown adult who is SO in love that they want the world to know. Here's a newsflash: the world doesn't care. Get a room and tell your mate in private.
*The person who re-posts a picture of a mutilated child in hopes that Facebook will donate money to help them get a new face/leg/eyeball...guess what? Facebook isn't The Peace Corps or The Red Cross.
Now, having said all that, let me say this: I love people. I am fascinated by people and the little idiosyncrasies that make us each unique. So, I don't want people to change--I want us all to just be who we are and be proud of who we are. In essence, embrace your toupee, and your big, bad eyebrows if that makes you happy...I certainly don't care--heck, I'm entertained by you and I love you, sugar...honey...baby...darlin' !!!!
Men who wear toupees. This is a sign of vanity and is it really safe for a man to be more vain than a woman?! NOT to be trusted. This also goes for men who wear nail polish and eyeliner. Certainly raises eyebrows...speaking of which...
Women who draw on bad, eyebrows. I can spot a bad drawn-on job from 50 paces. You really have to watch those women who have bleached blond hair and draw on big, black brows. Oh yeah, we've all seen her, and chances are, we're afraid of her. One should be wary of THAT lady simply because it's obvious she doesn't care...to look good...to smack your face...or to steal your husband.
People who bite their nails. Don't trust them in pressure situations; they're nervous.
Use extreme caution when carrying on a conversation with someone who has a catch-phrase. I say this for THEIR safety. How many times can you hear, "ya know what I'm sayin' " before you want to choke that person? After you hear it a couple of times, just excuse yourself from the conversation.
Another person to be wary of is the man/woman who constantly calls you 'sugar,' 'honey,' 'baby,' or 'darlin.' While it's perfectly acceptable in the south to address someone as 'honey' if someone does it repeatedly, it's because they haven't taken the time to learn your name. We are ALL worth our names being remembered. True story.
In the Facebook world--there are tons of people to watch out for and I'll caution you not to become one of the following people:
*The person who posts a picture of every item of food they eat (no. one. cares.)
*The person who has 9400 self portraits (vain? yes. you don't see the hot people doing that by the way)
*The person who feels the need to use completely inappropriate language in every status update (simply a cry out for attention for a person with low self-esteem)
*The person who will cut you down one minute and quote a bible verse the next (by your fruits we shall know you...and your fruit is, well...rotten)
*The person who can't spell worth a darn and they're a TEACHER?!?! or the person who can't differentiate between "you're, your, their, there, too, to, and two." Don't ask this person to help you with your homework.
*The hopeless teenager who has falls in and out of love every week. Would that child's parent PLEASE pay some attention to their child?
*The grown adult who is SO in love that they want the world to know. Here's a newsflash: the world doesn't care. Get a room and tell your mate in private.
*The person who re-posts a picture of a mutilated child in hopes that Facebook will donate money to help them get a new face/leg/eyeball...guess what? Facebook isn't The Peace Corps or The Red Cross.
Now, having said all that, let me say this: I love people. I am fascinated by people and the little idiosyncrasies that make us each unique. So, I don't want people to change--I want us all to just be who we are and be proud of who we are. In essence, embrace your toupee, and your big, bad eyebrows if that makes you happy...I certainly don't care--heck, I'm entertained by you and I love you, sugar...honey...baby...darlin' !!!!
Friday, March 9, 2012
Wild As An Outhouse Rat
I've been thinking...and I've been listening and here is a burning question. Just HOW wild is an outhouse rat?
My mom said to me last week, "he's always been wilder than an outhouse rat" in reference to someone living hard. That got me to thinking about rats...and outhouses. The first I want NO run-ins with and the second, I'm actually pretty familiar with. When I was 3, my dad was called to pastor a little country church with no indoor plumbing, so between Sunday School and preaching, the women would make the trek to the 'outhouse.' It was a two-seater which in itself is odd to me--the women would just go just two by two in the outhouse, do their business, carry on a conversation, pull up their drawers and think nothing of it. I get the nervous bladder now when I think there's someone in the stall next to me, so how on earth I could use the outhouse then with someone on the 'hole' next to me baffles me still. One of the older ladies would always say to me, "Don't forget to flush." Nothing like a little church outhouse humor.
That got me to thinking about outhouses...did you know that in Australia they're called "Thunderboxes?" I'd say! In New Zealand "Long Drops"...and if you were rich your outhouse was made of brick thus the saying, "she's built like a brick #@$%house." (who says my blog isn't educational)??!!!
So back to my original question...just how wild IS an outhouse rat? Some would say that the saying refers to a crazy person and not an actual rat in the outhouse, but I'm not convinced. I think if I were a rat and my home was an outhouse, I'd probably be pretty wild--wild about escaping!
This is my random thought of the day...be careful out there so as not to be accused of being "wild as an outhouse rat."
My mom said to me last week, "he's always been wilder than an outhouse rat" in reference to someone living hard. That got me to thinking about rats...and outhouses. The first I want NO run-ins with and the second, I'm actually pretty familiar with. When I was 3, my dad was called to pastor a little country church with no indoor plumbing, so between Sunday School and preaching, the women would make the trek to the 'outhouse.' It was a two-seater which in itself is odd to me--the women would just go just two by two in the outhouse, do their business, carry on a conversation, pull up their drawers and think nothing of it. I get the nervous bladder now when I think there's someone in the stall next to me, so how on earth I could use the outhouse then with someone on the 'hole' next to me baffles me still. One of the older ladies would always say to me, "Don't forget to flush." Nothing like a little church outhouse humor.
That got me to thinking about outhouses...did you know that in Australia they're called "Thunderboxes?" I'd say! In New Zealand "Long Drops"...and if you were rich your outhouse was made of brick thus the saying, "she's built like a brick #@$%house." (who says my blog isn't educational)??!!!
So back to my original question...just how wild IS an outhouse rat? Some would say that the saying refers to a crazy person and not an actual rat in the outhouse, but I'm not convinced. I think if I were a rat and my home was an outhouse, I'd probably be pretty wild--wild about escaping!
This is my random thought of the day...be careful out there so as not to be accused of being "wild as an outhouse rat."
Wednesday, January 25, 2012
A Few Things I Miss
What a world we live in! We just keep evolving and growing and trying new, bold things and I'm not always sure that progress is indeed progress. From the way we dress, to the way we work, to the way live...we think we've got it made, but do we really?
I was off work last Monday in observance of Martin Luther King day, I turned to the History Channel and was intrigued by the MLK coverage. I wanted my nieces and nephews to sit down and watch with me in hope that they would learn something about him and understand why they were on a one day vacation. What struck me as interesting was that they were talking about these poor--I mean the poorest of poor--black southern people and these people were dressed to the nines. Men in suits and hats, women in hats and heels and pearls clutching a 'pocketbook.' I miss the time when people took pride in their appearance. What would they say about what we wear and call progress today? Half naked women with a slit up to there, boys in loose jeans with their butts hanging out--is THAT progress? Hardly. Even the people once considered the lowest class wouldn't be caught dead in the garbs we find acceptable today. And I'll say this too, unless you've been in the hen house--there is no need for anyone to have a feather in their hair. Seriously?
I miss the time when daddies worked and mommas stayed home and raised the babies.
I miss the time where children were raised to say, ''Yes ma'am" and "No ma'am." That's always a sign of a good raisin'.
I miss the time of wooden dentures (just kidding about that). Lighten up.
I do not miss jelly shoes. Or pantyhose in plastic eggs which consequently I would put under my shirt and pretend they were boobs...the eggs, not the pantyhose; one was always bigger than the other.
I miss the time when kids were happy playing with eggs that pantyhose came in.
I miss parents who, when their daughter wanted fake fingernails as a child told her, 'just pretend' and that child wore scotch tape on her nails. No fake nails for kids, please.
I miss the time where people visited. How long has it been since you dropped by a friends house? How long has it been since you've seen your cousins? Trust me when I say this--a true friend or loving family member can visit anytime unannounced. Get out and visit...time is swiftly passing. You'll never regret it.
I miss the time when tonka trucks, little play tractors, baby dolls, board games and crayons were THE things to play with. Sadly they've been replaced with DS games, Wii, Playstations and our imaginations are dull. Kids are smarter, but in a different way.
I miss the time when men, were men. No holes in their ears, no eyeliner, no fingernail polish.
Progress is neither swift nor easy, but is inevitable. I just want everyone to slow down, embrace the moment and not worry so much about tomorrow for it may never come.
I was off work last Monday in observance of Martin Luther King day, I turned to the History Channel and was intrigued by the MLK coverage. I wanted my nieces and nephews to sit down and watch with me in hope that they would learn something about him and understand why they were on a one day vacation. What struck me as interesting was that they were talking about these poor--I mean the poorest of poor--black southern people and these people were dressed to the nines. Men in suits and hats, women in hats and heels and pearls clutching a 'pocketbook.' I miss the time when people took pride in their appearance. What would they say about what we wear and call progress today? Half naked women with a slit up to there, boys in loose jeans with their butts hanging out--is THAT progress? Hardly. Even the people once considered the lowest class wouldn't be caught dead in the garbs we find acceptable today. And I'll say this too, unless you've been in the hen house--there is no need for anyone to have a feather in their hair. Seriously?
I miss the time when daddies worked and mommas stayed home and raised the babies.
I miss the time where children were raised to say, ''Yes ma'am" and "No ma'am." That's always a sign of a good raisin'.
I miss the time of wooden dentures (just kidding about that). Lighten up.
I do not miss jelly shoes. Or pantyhose in plastic eggs which consequently I would put under my shirt and pretend they were boobs...the eggs, not the pantyhose; one was always bigger than the other.
I miss the time when kids were happy playing with eggs that pantyhose came in.
I miss parents who, when their daughter wanted fake fingernails as a child told her, 'just pretend' and that child wore scotch tape on her nails. No fake nails for kids, please.
I miss the time where people visited. How long has it been since you dropped by a friends house? How long has it been since you've seen your cousins? Trust me when I say this--a true friend or loving family member can visit anytime unannounced. Get out and visit...time is swiftly passing. You'll never regret it.
I miss the time when tonka trucks, little play tractors, baby dolls, board games and crayons were THE things to play with. Sadly they've been replaced with DS games, Wii, Playstations and our imaginations are dull. Kids are smarter, but in a different way.
I miss the time when men, were men. No holes in their ears, no eyeliner, no fingernail polish.
Progress is neither swift nor easy, but is inevitable. I just want everyone to slow down, embrace the moment and not worry so much about tomorrow for it may never come.
Tuesday, January 17, 2012
The New Year is Here...Let's Catch Up
Having just read a delightful blog entry by my friend Tracy, I decided that maybe I should re-enter the blogging world; if for nothing else a creative writing release. I do wonder, who reads this anyway? And, who cares?
I haven't blogged since August and since then, life as I know it has forever been changed. In September, my dad's mom (MaMa Hart) fell down her basement steps and broke her shoulder. She went to the nursing home for rehab and was doing very well. She was content and really seemed to enjoy the company that the nursing brought. On October the 29th I was standing in the clerk's office getting ready to vote absentee when my mom rushed in and said that my dad called and MaMa Hart passed away. I was sad for me, but I was so sad for my dad. It doesn't matter how old you are--your momma, is your momma and you will always love her and always need her. We buried her in her red suit--just like she wanted--and I must say, she looked beautiful. She always loved jewelry and makeup and clothes; I'd like to think that I got that from her.
Ten short days after my MaMa passed away, came the biggest shock of my life. My dad passed away. I don't care how old you are--your daddy, is your daddy and you will always love him and need him. There really are no words that can describe the gamut of feelings I've felt since that day, so I won't even attempt it. While I know that he's at peace and the cancer that plagued his body is no more, it doesn't fill the void of knowing that my dad will never walk me down the isle; my dad will never hold my children; my dad isn't here. Oh sure, in spirit he's here...he's everywhere. Someone once told me that the veil between heaven and earth is so thin--that why couldn't he be here? Of course he can. So, in honor of my dad--we continue to live...we continue to love...and we continue to press on knowing that one day, we shall inherit what he already has.
Anyway, in the famous words of Annelle from my favorite movie, "Steel Magnolias"..."there are still good times to be had." In the midst of sadness, this is so true. Whether we like it or not, life does go on. We can either live with the changes or stay marred down in self pity. I choose to live and to love with every fiber of my being...and that's a loooooot of fiber!!
I haven't blogged since August and since then, life as I know it has forever been changed. In September, my dad's mom (MaMa Hart) fell down her basement steps and broke her shoulder. She went to the nursing home for rehab and was doing very well. She was content and really seemed to enjoy the company that the nursing brought. On October the 29th I was standing in the clerk's office getting ready to vote absentee when my mom rushed in and said that my dad called and MaMa Hart passed away. I was sad for me, but I was so sad for my dad. It doesn't matter how old you are--your momma, is your momma and you will always love her and always need her. We buried her in her red suit--just like she wanted--and I must say, she looked beautiful. She always loved jewelry and makeup and clothes; I'd like to think that I got that from her.
Ten short days after my MaMa passed away, came the biggest shock of my life. My dad passed away. I don't care how old you are--your daddy, is your daddy and you will always love him and need him. There really are no words that can describe the gamut of feelings I've felt since that day, so I won't even attempt it. While I know that he's at peace and the cancer that plagued his body is no more, it doesn't fill the void of knowing that my dad will never walk me down the isle; my dad will never hold my children; my dad isn't here. Oh sure, in spirit he's here...he's everywhere. Someone once told me that the veil between heaven and earth is so thin--that why couldn't he be here? Of course he can. So, in honor of my dad--we continue to live...we continue to love...and we continue to press on knowing that one day, we shall inherit what he already has.
Anyway, in the famous words of Annelle from my favorite movie, "Steel Magnolias"..."there are still good times to be had." In the midst of sadness, this is so true. Whether we like it or not, life does go on. We can either live with the changes or stay marred down in self pity. I choose to live and to love with every fiber of my being...and that's a loooooot of fiber!!
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