Hannah straightened out my desk on Saturday night for me. Granted, it was a hot mess when she started. There’s lots o’stuff on it that shouldn’t be and I take full responsibility for it. It’s my desk and my mess, but she’s a lot like her Aunt Amy. She’s a little neatnik and she wanted to help her old Suzy---and, she helped. She didn’t throw anything away. She just straightened and rearranged. Right now I can’t find anything but give me a few days and I'll be back in the middle of my personal mess and bliss will reign once more. I've been watching too many episodes of Clean House!
~~~~~~~~~~
Hannah and Summer signed their autographs on the white board by my desk while they were at my house Saturday night. I looked at them this morning and thought of their sweet smiling faces and how much I love them. These signatures reminded me of the time Byron and I went to visit my Grandpa Bryant and Velma when Amy was a toddler. After we returned home, Velma wrote me a note and told me how she had found Amy’s tiny handprints on her mirrored chiffrobe after we left and that it reminded her of us and little Amy. I took it as a nice thing and found it endearing.
I think Velma was saying that there is something special about a baby’s telltale signs around a house, especially when no babies live there. Those tiny handprints speak of all she has to learn and all she has to give to the world. They tell of a heart eager to explore and touch and feel everything around her. Those little open hands tell of the hunger each of us had at one time to reach out to the possibilities of life, take hold of them, make them our own and ultimately leave our personal impact behind.
We leave handprints of a different kind wherever we go even now. Our mark on the world and the people around us remains long after we’ve exited the scene. Are we friendly and open to new people and new experiences or are we rushed and rude and just want to go home and hide from the world? Will those I come in contact with think positively about my mark on our encounter or will they be very glad I’ve decided to move along and leave them alone. I wonder what kind of handprint I left yesterday. What kind will I leave today?
Lord, we can leave good marks or we can leave bad ones. Help me leave handprints that are thought of kindly and fondly remembered. I love you, Father.
Suz
Thursday, October 30, 2008
Monday, October 27, 2008
my granddaughter, Hannah
We have two delightful granddaughters and one energetic grandson. Summer Rose and Hannah Rose Loftin and Sid Baker.
Sunday, October 26, 2008, our granddaughter, Hannah, turned 13! I can barely type these words without my mouth falling open. Our first grandbaby, 13 years old. Now, don't get me wrong. She doesn't look like a baby but no matter how grown up she becomes, she will always be my "baby grand."
I remember when Holly told me she was expecting her and how I was overwhelmed with emotion. How could my baby be having a baby? That in itself was mindboggling. As we followed Holly's pregnancy, I remember when Hannah was, according to the pregnancy book, the size of a pinto bean. Our very own little pinto bean. It was an exciting time.
As Hannah grew within her mother's womb, I spoke to her everytime I saw her. I bent down to Holly's belly, held it and said, "Hi Hannah. It's me, Grammy. I love you. I can't wait to see you and hold you." I didn't care that the same pregnancy book said she couldn't hear me. I told her anyway. Declaring my love for her cemented something strong, if not in her, then it did within my heart.
Maybe those feelings of connectedness are common across the board for all grandmothers. My experience with my own grandmothers was sketchy. They were too old, too sick or too far away in distant lands like Georgia and Tennessee for me to have much of a relationship with either of them. So I'm flying by the seat of my pants here in my efforts to grandmother my precious grandkids. All I know is that I feel a unique bond with my grandgirl, Hannah. She humors her old Suzy in a noncondescending way. She asks me questions and then listens to my answers. She continues our conversations with insightful questions and thinks about answers and solutions. Don't get me wrong. We're not talking rocket science here. We're talking about ideals and friendships and experiences. My experiences and her middle school experiences. She's an intelligent girl with a tender heart, much 13 yr old wisdom, who loves Jesus and loves me, too. What more could a grandmother ask for?
I've said it many times but I'll say it again. The Lord has certainly blessed me with more good things than I could ever imagine--with friends, with family, with grandchildren.
Happy Birthday, Hannah. I love you, honey.
Suzy
Sunday, October 26, 2008, our granddaughter, Hannah, turned 13! I can barely type these words without my mouth falling open. Our first grandbaby, 13 years old. Now, don't get me wrong. She doesn't look like a baby but no matter how grown up she becomes, she will always be my "baby grand."
I remember when Holly told me she was expecting her and how I was overwhelmed with emotion. How could my baby be having a baby? That in itself was mindboggling. As we followed Holly's pregnancy, I remember when Hannah was, according to the pregnancy book, the size of a pinto bean. Our very own little pinto bean. It was an exciting time.
As Hannah grew within her mother's womb, I spoke to her everytime I saw her. I bent down to Holly's belly, held it and said, "Hi Hannah. It's me, Grammy. I love you. I can't wait to see you and hold you." I didn't care that the same pregnancy book said she couldn't hear me. I told her anyway. Declaring my love for her cemented something strong, if not in her, then it did within my heart.
Maybe those feelings of connectedness are common across the board for all grandmothers. My experience with my own grandmothers was sketchy. They were too old, too sick or too far away in distant lands like Georgia and Tennessee for me to have much of a relationship with either of them. So I'm flying by the seat of my pants here in my efforts to grandmother my precious grandkids. All I know is that I feel a unique bond with my grandgirl, Hannah. She humors her old Suzy in a noncondescending way. She asks me questions and then listens to my answers. She continues our conversations with insightful questions and thinks about answers and solutions. Don't get me wrong. We're not talking rocket science here. We're talking about ideals and friendships and experiences. My experiences and her middle school experiences. She's an intelligent girl with a tender heart, much 13 yr old wisdom, who loves Jesus and loves me, too. What more could a grandmother ask for?
I've said it many times but I'll say it again. The Lord has certainly blessed me with more good things than I could ever imagine--with friends, with family, with grandchildren.
Happy Birthday, Hannah. I love you, honey.
Suzy
Tuesday, October 21, 2008
storytelling and potpourri
I love stories. True stories. Fun stories. I love to hear them and I love to tell them. I've been known to embellish true life events to make them just a little bit better than they really are to make a more interesting story. When Pastor Derek asked me to be the storyteller for our pumpkin patch again this year, I gladly accepted.
It was a beautiful day to be outside. The skies were clear. Cool breezes blew. We had pumpkins and we had a story. It doesn't get much better than this. The kids were excited to be doing a special thing and I was excited to interact with them and make their day a little more fun.
As they filed into the pavilion for the story, I thought about how it was when I went to school and how everyone looked alike. We were all Caucasian, some Catholic, some Baptist, some southerners, some yankees, but we were basically similar in appearance and economic circumstances, etc. This is what some people think heaven is going to be like. Gobs and gobs of people just like themselves. I believe they are going to be quite surprised.
I think heaven will be more like it was today. The children were a gorgeous blend of boys and girls of Asian, Hispanic, African-American, and Caucasian descent, and they were all eager to hear the story and have some fun. I thought of the children I've met on our missions trips--about how they all look different than I do but each one is beautiful in his or her own unique way--from the ruddy-cheeked Quechuan children of Ayacucho, Peru to the brownest youngsters in Gabon, Africa.
The USA is called a melting pot and that's not a bad thing for our country, but I thought of heaven and how it's going to be so much better than a melting pot. A melting pot cooks ingredients down until it's a conglomeration of the pieces and parts that were added to it. Heaven will be more like a potpourri. A potpourri of humanity. Individually beautiful ingredients that come together to make a new thing--a sweet savor. It will be a delicate blend of all those saved by the grace of God and it will send up a sweet aroma in testimony of His goodness and mercy.
Heaven is going to be grand and I can't wait to go there. For now though I'll be content with my small portion of potpourri here on earth. The Lord is so good to me.
Suz
It was a beautiful day to be outside. The skies were clear. Cool breezes blew. We had pumpkins and we had a story. It doesn't get much better than this. The kids were excited to be doing a special thing and I was excited to interact with them and make their day a little more fun.
As they filed into the pavilion for the story, I thought about how it was when I went to school and how everyone looked alike. We were all Caucasian, some Catholic, some Baptist, some southerners, some yankees, but we were basically similar in appearance and economic circumstances, etc. This is what some people think heaven is going to be like. Gobs and gobs of people just like themselves. I believe they are going to be quite surprised.
I think heaven will be more like it was today. The children were a gorgeous blend of boys and girls of Asian, Hispanic, African-American, and Caucasian descent, and they were all eager to hear the story and have some fun. I thought of the children I've met on our missions trips--about how they all look different than I do but each one is beautiful in his or her own unique way--from the ruddy-cheeked Quechuan children of Ayacucho, Peru to the brownest youngsters in Gabon, Africa.
The USA is called a melting pot and that's not a bad thing for our country, but I thought of heaven and how it's going to be so much better than a melting pot. A melting pot cooks ingredients down until it's a conglomeration of the pieces and parts that were added to it. Heaven will be more like a potpourri. A potpourri of humanity. Individually beautiful ingredients that come together to make a new thing--a sweet savor. It will be a delicate blend of all those saved by the grace of God and it will send up a sweet aroma in testimony of His goodness and mercy.
Heaven is going to be grand and I can't wait to go there. For now though I'll be content with my small portion of potpourri here on earth. The Lord is so good to me.
Suz
Tuesday, October 14, 2008
our trip to Dominican Republic
Our missions trip to CIMA del Rey in Dominican Republic was a good one. The team worked really hard pouring concrete, painting, tearing out old construction, plumbing and installing electrical stuff and cleaning up. It was a hard trip in many ways, too. I thought because I lived in Florida that the heat wouldn't bother me. It bothered me.
The facilities are located on a hill that is surrounded by many beautiful mountains so air doesn't circulate easily. It's still, a lot. (Come, breeze, come.) I don't think I've ever been as hot in my life as I was there. Add to the mix spotty power service and the nights could be really long and hot with not even a fan. It got so hot that I gave in and opened our windows to the bedroom despite having no screens on them. Thank the Lord no creatures came in. And there were a few creatures there.
We drank gallon after gallon of water that was sometimes even cool. We didn't dare become dehydrated. With that type labor going on, heat stroke could have been right around the corner. Our food was prepared by Martha and her sisters-in-law and it was tasty. A few new things to try but mostly familiar. We also shared what food items we brought from home to supplement our meals. A bite or two of the packaged Rice Krispy treats that I had with me brought squeals of joy from a couple of the younger ones there. We took breaks to allow the occasional breeze to cool us down.
Sunday night at the local church's service we were loved on and made to feel welcome. On Wednesday, when we went to the weekly outreach service behind the village elementary school, approx. 350 children of all ages sang and played games and heard the story of Maria, Jose', and their son, Jesus. At the end of the service, Pastor Pedro had us line up two by two to make a tunnel through which the children would pass. As they came through we laid hands on them, prayed for each one and then gave them a sweet treat as they exited the prayer tunnel. At least, that's the way it was supposed to work. The kids were so excited about the sweet, it was not single file through the line...it got a little pushy as they moved quickly to receive their candy. Then it poured down rain and we were praying for excited, sweet-treat loving, wet children. We had a blast! We were a mess, but we also enjoyed every minute of it. The love that Pastor Pedro has for the youth in this village and all of Santo Domingo is gigantic...kind of like his heart.
I guess if there's any one thing about a missions trip that's consistent for me, it's the way we slip easily into the appreciation for small things. That cool breeze at just the right moment. A fresh bottle of water when thirst is greatest. Electricity. Hot water for a shower. A shower. Playing down at the river with the friends you worked with all day and having so much fun that they hear the group's laughter all the way back at the main building on the hill. Sharing a bag of cashews, instant oatmeal, a Crystal Light tea packet, a friend bandaging your boo-boo, or doctoring your eye when there's a piece of trash in it. A sister praying for you when you hurt. A brother or sister surrendering more of himself or herself to the Lord during the morning devotions and the others surrounding him or her with prayer, love and encouragement.
Parts of this trip were difficult for me. I struggled with some of the inconveniences. Did I mention I was hot? My energy wasn't where I'd have liked it to be and my body hurt, a lot, BUT the Lord met with us so tenderly in our morning devotions and on Thursday night when Pastor Pedro brought some young people to minister to us with fun and prayer that I can call this trip a definite success. Those hot nights brought awake time--time to read my Bible with my batteried booklight--time to pray. There are so many areas in which I can grow. I'm sure some of them should already be completed and they are not, but the Lord lovingly reveals them to me then helps me work on them--like contentment and peace.
Help me listen and learn, Lord. Listen. Learn. Thank you for this learning trip for me, Father. I love you.
Suz
The facilities are located on a hill that is surrounded by many beautiful mountains so air doesn't circulate easily. It's still, a lot. (Come, breeze, come.) I don't think I've ever been as hot in my life as I was there. Add to the mix spotty power service and the nights could be really long and hot with not even a fan. It got so hot that I gave in and opened our windows to the bedroom despite having no screens on them. Thank the Lord no creatures came in. And there were a few creatures there.
We drank gallon after gallon of water that was sometimes even cool. We didn't dare become dehydrated. With that type labor going on, heat stroke could have been right around the corner. Our food was prepared by Martha and her sisters-in-law and it was tasty. A few new things to try but mostly familiar. We also shared what food items we brought from home to supplement our meals. A bite or two of the packaged Rice Krispy treats that I had with me brought squeals of joy from a couple of the younger ones there. We took breaks to allow the occasional breeze to cool us down.
Sunday night at the local church's service we were loved on and made to feel welcome. On Wednesday, when we went to the weekly outreach service behind the village elementary school, approx. 350 children of all ages sang and played games and heard the story of Maria, Jose', and their son, Jesus. At the end of the service, Pastor Pedro had us line up two by two to make a tunnel through which the children would pass. As they came through we laid hands on them, prayed for each one and then gave them a sweet treat as they exited the prayer tunnel. At least, that's the way it was supposed to work. The kids were so excited about the sweet, it was not single file through the line...it got a little pushy as they moved quickly to receive their candy. Then it poured down rain and we were praying for excited, sweet-treat loving, wet children. We had a blast! We were a mess, but we also enjoyed every minute of it. The love that Pastor Pedro has for the youth in this village and all of Santo Domingo is gigantic...kind of like his heart.
I guess if there's any one thing about a missions trip that's consistent for me, it's the way we slip easily into the appreciation for small things. That cool breeze at just the right moment. A fresh bottle of water when thirst is greatest. Electricity. Hot water for a shower. A shower. Playing down at the river with the friends you worked with all day and having so much fun that they hear the group's laughter all the way back at the main building on the hill. Sharing a bag of cashews, instant oatmeal, a Crystal Light tea packet, a friend bandaging your boo-boo, or doctoring your eye when there's a piece of trash in it. A sister praying for you when you hurt. A brother or sister surrendering more of himself or herself to the Lord during the morning devotions and the others surrounding him or her with prayer, love and encouragement.
Parts of this trip were difficult for me. I struggled with some of the inconveniences. Did I mention I was hot? My energy wasn't where I'd have liked it to be and my body hurt, a lot, BUT the Lord met with us so tenderly in our morning devotions and on Thursday night when Pastor Pedro brought some young people to minister to us with fun and prayer that I can call this trip a definite success. Those hot nights brought awake time--time to read my Bible with my batteried booklight--time to pray. There are so many areas in which I can grow. I'm sure some of them should already be completed and they are not, but the Lord lovingly reveals them to me then helps me work on them--like contentment and peace.
Help me listen and learn, Lord. Listen. Learn. Thank you for this learning trip for me, Father. I love you.
Suz
Thursday, October 9, 2008
A Post for Aunt Wanda
Dear Aunt Wanda
We are safe and sound here in Dominican Republic. There's lots of work to do and we are working hard on it. This is a beautiful facility with soft green mountains all around us. The river down at the bottom of our hill flows fast but it's not deep. We all went down on my birthday and swam and played after work. It was a blast!
We went to a children's outreach meeting in the village yesterday afternoon and visited with the children and played with them while the church's members told them about Jesus. It poured down raining on us right at the end but it was so much fun to be there that nobody minded at all.
We will finish our work this afternoon and spend a day of rest before coming home on Saturday. Please hug and kiss Kayla and Aunt Margaret for me.
I love you all.
Suzy
We are safe and sound here in Dominican Republic. There's lots of work to do and we are working hard on it. This is a beautiful facility with soft green mountains all around us. The river down at the bottom of our hill flows fast but it's not deep. We all went down on my birthday and swam and played after work. It was a blast!
We went to a children's outreach meeting in the village yesterday afternoon and visited with the children and played with them while the church's members told them about Jesus. It poured down raining on us right at the end but it was so much fun to be there that nobody minded at all.
We will finish our work this afternoon and spend a day of rest before coming home on Saturday. Please hug and kiss Kayla and Aunt Margaret for me.
I love you all.
Suzy
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