Our daughter, Amy, dropped by for a nice visit today. She and her dad and I caught up on the last few days and just spent some good time together. When it came time for her to leave we went out the back door to the backyard and as we were standing in the warm sunshine on this January '13 day, I saw time pass. Really.
As we chatted, I looked at Amy and her dad, and I considered myself and thought of the nearly thirty-three years we'd lived in this house that Byron built. I noticed our ages; Byron's not a young man anymore, I'm not a young woman and Amy is in her prime.
My eyes scanned our backyard and thought of the two, little white haired girls who played here with their next door neighbor cousins. I remembered how they all sat in the shovel of a back hoe and had their picture made. How they'd swing on the tire swing from the huge oak near the kitchen door. How they romped and stomped with whatever pup we had at the time.
I saw my girls riding the old tractor on the back of the lot and heard them singing church songs to the top of their lungs. They didn't know we could hear every word they sang over the noise of the tractor. I remembered the playhouse Byron's dad built for their older cousin, Candy, and how we brought it out here after she outgrew playing with it. I thought of those five mean and nasty pigs we raised and how Sandy and I had to round one or two of them up one afternoon after they'd escaped. I thought about the first chickens we raised, the bunnies and, later on, our 13 sweet goats.
I thought of school plays when Amy was a flower and Holly was a leprechaun and performances of The Patchwork Singers in elementary school. "One singular sensation..." and "Start spreading the news..." I saw Amy driving her little white Datsun station wagon to pick up her cousins the evening of the day she got her license and Holly coming home from school in her little red Tercel. I remembered Flag Corp practice for Amy and marching band for Holly.
We had Amy and her cousin Chris' high school graduation party here and there were about a million people who showed up for it and we had a blast! Two years later instead of a graduation party, Holly wanted a wedding and it was beautiful and so was she. I remember Byron and I sitting down on the couch that evening after the long, great day and how I sobbed my eyes out. I was totally exhausted and I was sad for my baby growing up and leaving home, but I was also happy she married a wonderful man to start a home a family with.
I remember the bonfire Amy's youth group had here. I don't know how many young adults showed up but there were a LOT of them. I also remember talking with a young man and woman in the kitchen that evening, who weren't dating at the time, and about how they are married now with two kids of their own.
I thought of all the dinners and cookouts we've had here with family and friends, many of them passed on now, and I miss them, even though we made great memories while they were here. After most dinners with my immediate family, I'd take tiny Hannah out in the backyard and we'd identify plants and talk about stuff. Later after Summer was born, we'd take those same walks but we also had the goats so we'd take time to give them a little treat of corn. They are so different in their ways and growing up lightning fast along with our terrific grandson, Sid, who joined our family when Amy and Lane married a few years ago.
Thirty-three years...it is a mist, a vapor, and it passed by so very quickly. It reminds me of these lyrics...
Memries, like the corners of my mind, misty water-colored memories, of the way we were.
Scattered pictures, of the smiles we left behind, smiles we gave to one another, for the way we were.
...so it's the laughter, we will remember, whenever we remember...
The way we were...
The way we were...
and a few Bible verses;
Some of you say, "Today or tomorrow we will go to some city. We will stay there a year, do business, make money. But you do not know what will happen tomorrow. Your life is like a mist. You can see it for a short time but then it goes away. So you should say, "If the Lord wants, we will do this, or that." James 4:14
It's been good, thus far and I'm so looking forward to what the Lord has for us for the rest of the vapor! I know it will pass quickly but it's going to be good, Lord willing.
What a fun thing to think of today, Father! It was kind of weird, seeing the years pass like that, but you brought back some really great memories for me. Thank you! I love you!
Suzanne
Monday, January 21, 2013
Saturday, January 19, 2013
Perfectionist and Procrastinator
Procrastination stinks. It keeps me from doing all those things I'd really like to do...all those things I plan to enjoy, all those projects I want to complete.
I've had a project on my mind and heart for over a year now and I won't start it. I'm avoiding it like the plague itself and yet I think about it daily. If I'd just get started, all this thinking about it would be productive, not wasted energy, but I know why I don't begin. I understand it from the deepest level and I'm struggling to get around it, to step over it, to get into the water, to get my feet wet and then immerse myself into something grand and personally gratifying.
My hindrance is that I'm a perfectionist. I didn't say I'm perfect. I'm far from it, but I so want to do everything perfectly and if I don't envision myself doing my heart's desire with no shortcomings and no blemishes then I just won't begin. My daughter, Holly, says we're perfectionists--we're just not very good at it! So, I'll just keep dreaming and plotting and waiting for that pristine day when the sun will shine brightly, inspiration blooms wildly, and my castle in the air becomes a reality.
I started thinking about my perfectionistic tendencies and began noticing how insidious they are and how they grab onto the tiniest detail and blow it way out of proportion. Take, for example, the simple act of brushing my teeth. If after I've brushed, I notice one little patch of "sweater" on a back tooth, for a fleeting second, I feel let down as though I've surely failed. I don't sink into despair and cease to function but I notice it and I don't feel quite up to par...just not quite "good enough."
When I'm cooking and the rice isn't perfectly tender, then my whole dish isn't great and I might as well have bought KFC and ditched the home cooked meal--at least their chicken is tasty! If I'm cleaning and don't move everything in the room every time I vacuum, then I'm a slacker and need to just stop trying to keep house. If I'm visiting with a new person and say a little something stupid or silly, something ultimately inconsequential, I replay the scene over and over in my head and end up feeling like an idiot because I didn't get the whole encounter "right."
This kind of perfectionism stymies and ruins my good efforts and casts a shadow of discontent over my day, over my heart, over all my good plans and intentions. It takes the sparkle out of my life--and I so love sparkle!
So what does this have to do with my project? Well, if I KNOW I won't be able to do it perfectly, then I just won't even begin! Then there won't be any shadows of failure or whispers of, "Stupid! what made you think you could do it anyway?" If I don't start it, then I can't fail at it. (I have noticed over the years that my inner dialogue isn't very kind to me.)
Anyway, I'm learning that perfectionism leads to procrastination and that's what's been stalling me and that I need to be kinder to myself and show myself a little grace. Then I read this:
Lord, you have examined me and know all about me. You know when I sit down and when I get up. You know my thoughts before I think them. You know where I go and where I lie down. You know everything I do. Lord, even before I say a word, you know it. Psalms 139:1-4.
There is nothing about me he does not know. There is no failure, no oversight, no shortcoming that's a surprise to Him and yet he loves me and he blesses me because I am his child. He doesn't expect me to be perfect in my own right, by my own efforts. This is the same for all his children. We are perfect because of Jesus. I am perfect because of Jesus.
Since you are God's children, God sent the Spirit of his Son into your hearts, and the Spirit cries out, "Father!" So, now you are not a slave, you are God's child, and God will give you the blessing he promised because you are his child. Galatians 4:6-7
I am a parent and as much as I love my children, I understand they are not perfect human beings. They are human and frail as much as anyone but I love them unconditionally, and in spite of any struggles or failures, I applaud their effort to live Godly lives and be good people. How much more does our Heavenly Father love us?
I'm going to think about this some more. I'm going to hold these truths close to my heart and try to show myself more of the Lord's grace--not be so critical of myself. At least that's the goal! I don't have to make all things perfect. Reading these verses feels like a warm, snuggly hug from my Father. He loves me just as I am, so all's right with my world and I can start that project even if it's not perfect, it's mine and an effort done in love.
Thank you, Father, for your tender loving kindness to me, your daughter. I needed this soft place to land and you are here. I love you.
Suzanne
I've had a project on my mind and heart for over a year now and I won't start it. I'm avoiding it like the plague itself and yet I think about it daily. If I'd just get started, all this thinking about it would be productive, not wasted energy, but I know why I don't begin. I understand it from the deepest level and I'm struggling to get around it, to step over it, to get into the water, to get my feet wet and then immerse myself into something grand and personally gratifying.
My hindrance is that I'm a perfectionist. I didn't say I'm perfect. I'm far from it, but I so want to do everything perfectly and if I don't envision myself doing my heart's desire with no shortcomings and no blemishes then I just won't begin. My daughter, Holly, says we're perfectionists--we're just not very good at it! So, I'll just keep dreaming and plotting and waiting for that pristine day when the sun will shine brightly, inspiration blooms wildly, and my castle in the air becomes a reality.
I started thinking about my perfectionistic tendencies and began noticing how insidious they are and how they grab onto the tiniest detail and blow it way out of proportion. Take, for example, the simple act of brushing my teeth. If after I've brushed, I notice one little patch of "sweater" on a back tooth, for a fleeting second, I feel let down as though I've surely failed. I don't sink into despair and cease to function but I notice it and I don't feel quite up to par...just not quite "good enough."
When I'm cooking and the rice isn't perfectly tender, then my whole dish isn't great and I might as well have bought KFC and ditched the home cooked meal--at least their chicken is tasty! If I'm cleaning and don't move everything in the room every time I vacuum, then I'm a slacker and need to just stop trying to keep house. If I'm visiting with a new person and say a little something stupid or silly, something ultimately inconsequential, I replay the scene over and over in my head and end up feeling like an idiot because I didn't get the whole encounter "right."
This kind of perfectionism stymies and ruins my good efforts and casts a shadow of discontent over my day, over my heart, over all my good plans and intentions. It takes the sparkle out of my life--and I so love sparkle!
So what does this have to do with my project? Well, if I KNOW I won't be able to do it perfectly, then I just won't even begin! Then there won't be any shadows of failure or whispers of, "Stupid! what made you think you could do it anyway?" If I don't start it, then I can't fail at it. (I have noticed over the years that my inner dialogue isn't very kind to me.)
Anyway, I'm learning that perfectionism leads to procrastination and that's what's been stalling me and that I need to be kinder to myself and show myself a little grace. Then I read this:
Lord, you have examined me and know all about me. You know when I sit down and when I get up. You know my thoughts before I think them. You know where I go and where I lie down. You know everything I do. Lord, even before I say a word, you know it. Psalms 139:1-4.
There is nothing about me he does not know. There is no failure, no oversight, no shortcoming that's a surprise to Him and yet he loves me and he blesses me because I am his child. He doesn't expect me to be perfect in my own right, by my own efforts. This is the same for all his children. We are perfect because of Jesus. I am perfect because of Jesus.
Since you are God's children, God sent the Spirit of his Son into your hearts, and the Spirit cries out, "Father!" So, now you are not a slave, you are God's child, and God will give you the blessing he promised because you are his child. Galatians 4:6-7
I am a parent and as much as I love my children, I understand they are not perfect human beings. They are human and frail as much as anyone but I love them unconditionally, and in spite of any struggles or failures, I applaud their effort to live Godly lives and be good people. How much more does our Heavenly Father love us?
I'm going to think about this some more. I'm going to hold these truths close to my heart and try to show myself more of the Lord's grace--not be so critical of myself. At least that's the goal! I don't have to make all things perfect. Reading these verses feels like a warm, snuggly hug from my Father. He loves me just as I am, so all's right with my world and I can start that project even if it's not perfect, it's mine and an effort done in love.
Thank you, Father, for your tender loving kindness to me, your daughter. I needed this soft place to land and you are here. I love you.
Suzanne
Monday, January 7, 2013
A Great Day in Poplar Springs
On our last trip to Alabama in November, I made plans to find my great-aunt Lillie McClendon's grave. From my research on Find-a-Grave, I discovered she is buried in Poplar Springs, AL in a small church cemetery. Through a connection on Find a Grave, I met a cousin of mine who told me I also had many Slayton ancestors (my paternal ggrandmother was a Slayton) in this cemetery, which made me want to check it out even more. I did some research and phone calling and found out how to get to it so Byron and I and our friends, Odis and Marsha, decided to make a day of it and take a field trip.
All went well as we traveled to the tiny community way back in the rural parts of Alabama just outside of Albertville, AL. We didn't have any problems finding the pretty little Poplar Springs Church and its cemetery thanks to the clear cut directions given to me by the Chamber of Commerce of Albertville.
We arrived at our destination about mid-morning. This way back place far from city and traffic and noise. This small, white country church with the well tended building and manicured yard and neatly kept cemetery. This quiet, peaceful place where my husband, our friends and I searched for my familial connections to the past. As we looked for Aunt Lillie's grave, I noticed many McClendon's. Many Slaytons. Some Bryants. Just seeing these names on gravestones made me feel connected, tightly laced to this new place--this place I'd never before visited. It felt old and comfortable and familiar to me. I found my gggrandparents headstone monuments and was moved to consider that Sarah Horton Slayton had given birth to my grandmother, Zora, who birthed my grandfather, John Bryant, who fathered my dad, also John Bryant. The sense of continuity was electrifying.
We searched and searched yet couldn't seem to find Aunt Lillie so we just kept looking. It was a small place, so surely she couldn't be that hard to find. Meanwhile, a car drove up with a husband and wife about our age with a very young, little girl with them. As they got out of their vehicle, the woman brought out a beautiful potted plant. I wanted so much to talk to them and ask about my family, but I decided to wait and see on which grave she placed the plant.
To my surprise and delight, she placed it on a Slayton grave! I immediately went over to her and asked, "Are you a Slayton?" She replied, "My mother was." I pointed to Sarah Horton Slayton's monument and said, "This is my second great grandmother." Her face lit up and she said, "She's MY second great grandmother, too!" Her great grandfather and my great grandmother, Zora, were siblings! She and I are cousins!
We hugged and then introduced ourselves and our husbands and friends one to another and started comparing notes on family. I can't begin to describe how surreal the next few minutes were. She told me about her mother and the community and the church. Kathy and her husband don't live in Poplar Springs but she regularly brings flowers to her mother's grave. This day was an out of the ordinary day because her little granddaughter was sick and they were babysitting her from school. The little one wanted to bring holiday flowers on this day and I'm so glad she did!
Kathy also told me of the New Harmony Cemetery that was only a few minutes away where many, many of my Bryant ancestors from the early 1800s and later, are buried! Before we parted, Marsha found Aunt Lillie's headstone, the one we'd initially come seeking. Kathy and I made plans to become Facebook friends and to stay in touch, which we have done, and are making plans for a long visit the next time we get to Alabama. After we said our goodbyes and finished up at Poplar Springs, we made a visit to New Harmony and were able to see even more than we ever expected to see on that chilly, overcast and rainy Alabama weekday field trip.
I often think of this good day and I am in awe when I think of how it turned out. This meeting was no coincidence. It was no chancy get together. It couldn't have been more God-orchestrated if He'd sent out written invitations to us both--but what touches me most was that He knew how much I needed this connection with family, with my ancestry, with my roots. The Lord knows my personal pain and struggles. He knows my desires and my longing for connection with my family's past and then gives me a gift I could have never provided for myself.
Many people think of cemeteries as creepy or scary but I don't. There's something amazing about standing in the middle of a cemetery filled with my ancestors, thinking of their lives and their times. Their hardships, their joys, and their faith. I think about how the same Lord Jesus who protected them, who met their needs, who guided them, is the one who takes care of my family and me, now. He's the same one who gives us special gifts like that great day in Poplar Springs, Alabama where I found my family.
What a great, fun, exciting day, Jesus! You give good gifts! You know us better than we know ourselves and I thank you for this perfect present. I love you!
Suz
All went well as we traveled to the tiny community way back in the rural parts of Alabama just outside of Albertville, AL. We didn't have any problems finding the pretty little Poplar Springs Church and its cemetery thanks to the clear cut directions given to me by the Chamber of Commerce of Albertville.
We arrived at our destination about mid-morning. This way back place far from city and traffic and noise. This small, white country church with the well tended building and manicured yard and neatly kept cemetery. This quiet, peaceful place where my husband, our friends and I searched for my familial connections to the past. As we looked for Aunt Lillie's grave, I noticed many McClendon's. Many Slaytons. Some Bryants. Just seeing these names on gravestones made me feel connected, tightly laced to this new place--this place I'd never before visited. It felt old and comfortable and familiar to me. I found my gggrandparents headstone monuments and was moved to consider that Sarah Horton Slayton had given birth to my grandmother, Zora, who birthed my grandfather, John Bryant, who fathered my dad, also John Bryant. The sense of continuity was electrifying.
We searched and searched yet couldn't seem to find Aunt Lillie so we just kept looking. It was a small place, so surely she couldn't be that hard to find. Meanwhile, a car drove up with a husband and wife about our age with a very young, little girl with them. As they got out of their vehicle, the woman brought out a beautiful potted plant. I wanted so much to talk to them and ask about my family, but I decided to wait and see on which grave she placed the plant.
To my surprise and delight, she placed it on a Slayton grave! I immediately went over to her and asked, "Are you a Slayton?" She replied, "My mother was." I pointed to Sarah Horton Slayton's monument and said, "This is my second great grandmother." Her face lit up and she said, "She's MY second great grandmother, too!" Her great grandfather and my great grandmother, Zora, were siblings! She and I are cousins!
We hugged and then introduced ourselves and our husbands and friends one to another and started comparing notes on family. I can't begin to describe how surreal the next few minutes were. She told me about her mother and the community and the church. Kathy and her husband don't live in Poplar Springs but she regularly brings flowers to her mother's grave. This day was an out of the ordinary day because her little granddaughter was sick and they were babysitting her from school. The little one wanted to bring holiday flowers on this day and I'm so glad she did!
Kathy also told me of the New Harmony Cemetery that was only a few minutes away where many, many of my Bryant ancestors from the early 1800s and later, are buried! Before we parted, Marsha found Aunt Lillie's headstone, the one we'd initially come seeking. Kathy and I made plans to become Facebook friends and to stay in touch, which we have done, and are making plans for a long visit the next time we get to Alabama. After we said our goodbyes and finished up at Poplar Springs, we made a visit to New Harmony and were able to see even more than we ever expected to see on that chilly, overcast and rainy Alabama weekday field trip.
Many people think of cemeteries as creepy or scary but I don't. There's something amazing about standing in the middle of a cemetery filled with my ancestors, thinking of their lives and their times. Their hardships, their joys, and their faith. I think about how the same Lord Jesus who protected them, who met their needs, who guided them, is the one who takes care of my family and me, now. He's the same one who gives us special gifts like that great day in Poplar Springs, Alabama where I found my family.
What a great, fun, exciting day, Jesus! You give good gifts! You know us better than we know ourselves and I thank you for this perfect present. I love you!
Suz
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