Hawks in the 'Hood

Isn't this an awesome photograph?  My friend and I were going out to our antique booth this morning.  About two blocks from my house, we saw this pair of hawks land in a tree in a neighbor's front yard.  We stopped the car and started snapping pictures.  The hawks didn't seem too concerned about us and appeared to be casually posing.

Don't be deceived by their calm demeanor and beauty...they are ruthless hunters, to be sure.  Last summer I watched in horror as one swooped down in my backyard and flew away with one of my songbirds locked in its talons.  Although it was heartbreaking, birds of prey have to eat too.  It's the way of nature.

I live on the outskirts of a large city.  Many of our city's mature trees have been removed to make room for the city's growth and "progress".  Forests destroyed for new housing and highway construction had been "home" to varied wildlife.  The animals that survived have had to find new places to live.  Apparently, some have adapted and found habitat in well populated urban areas.  In our neighborhood and in nearby ones, we've seen deer, foxes, raccoons, opossums, rabbits, owls, and hawks.  Although I haven't seen one, I am pretty sure that I heard a coyote once.  I had never heard such a strange sound before, nor have I heard it since that night.  It never fails to amaze me to see a wild animal or bird of prey in an unexpected place.  This morning's hawk sighting was no exception.  I just hope all the songbirds were able to find cover today.  We don't have very many songbirds during the winter, so those that do visit our yard are very precious to me.

I hope that you are enjoying these last few days for Christmas.  It's a special time of year for connecting with family and friends.  Please take time this week to read Luke 2 with your family and reflect on the wonderful event that occurred over two thousand years ago...the birth of Jesus Christ.

Copyright 2011 Charlotte Laney

McAdenville - A Family Tradition

December's calendar page seems to flip over faster and faster each year.  With family get togethers, parties, church and school events, shopping, decorating, and cooking, plus our normal daily routines, the month begins and ends in the blink of an eye.  Every year I aspire to finish my Christmas shopping by the end of October...never has happened, and probably never will...but hope springs eternal.

The older I get, the less "wants" for material things I have.  God is graciously providing for our needs, even with me leaving the workforce in July.  The need for more "things" is at the bottom of my list.  Relationships are so much more important.  Here's my wish list for December:  spend time with family and friends, go to McAdenville to see the Christmas lights, watch Christmas movies (including It's a Wonderful Life), listen to Christmas CD's (including our old family favorite, Carpenters Christmas Collection), drink flavored coffee and hot chocolate, burn scented candles, bake and eat cookies (OK, maybe eat cookies my husband baked since he's the baker in the family), have a fire in the fireplace, turn off the lights and enjoy the glow of the Christmas tree when all is quiet at the end of the day, attend church and focus on Jesus and the true meaning of Christmas, attend at least one children's program---somewhere.  Christmas just isn't Chrismas if it doesn't involve children.    

I think traditions are important in unifying families.  It bonds them with commonality.  When I was a little girl, a December visit to McAdvenville was our family tradition.  McAdenville is known as Christmas Town, U.S.A.   It's a small North Carolina town that has been decorating its homes, businesses, and churches with thousands of Christmas lights during the month of December since the 1950's. Tour busses and church vans from all over bring groups to see the beautiful displays. 

When our sons were growing up, we continued the tradition.  As they grew older, particularly during those teen years, I had to suffer through the eye-rolling when I wanted to go to McAdvenville.  Now that they have children of their own, I hope they establish traditions for their families. 

But...now we have grands!  I can check McAdvenville off my December to-do list. On Thursday  night, we took one of our grandchildren to McAdenville to see the Christmas lights..so the tradition continues to the next generation..  No eye-rolling; just joy and wonder on his sweet little face as he bounced and waved at snowmen, Santa Clauses, and anyone passing by.

The trees and displays are much more elaborate than they were in the 1950's and 1960's when I was a child; but I still remember the anticipation of rounding the curve, where dozens of Christmas trees, covered in red, green, and white lights, surrounded a lake.  Their colors were reflected back, as if in a mirror, while the center fountain glowed in ever-changing colors.  Thursday night, treasured memories of those long ago Christmases flooded back.   

Thank you, McAdenville, for sharing over fifty years of Christmas joy to millions of children and families.  Although the town spends untold hours each year putting up and taking down the lights and decorations, I hope it is a tradition they continue for future generations to enjoy.

As your family celebrates Christmas throughout the month of December, take time to make memories, establish traditions, but most importantly--focus on the true reason for the season....Jesus Christ, the Savior of the World!

Copyright 2011 Charlotte Laney       

Thanksgiving: Forgotten Holiday

Sandwiched between the hoopla of Halloween and the ever-increasing commercialism of Christmas, lies Thanksgiving...the soon to be forgotten holiday.  To many, it's just become "Turkey Day", a day for overindulging in rich food, Christmas parades, and the ever-increasing number of  football "Bowl" games.

Don't misunderstand me, I love to have fun.  Yes, much of my fun seems to revolve around food;  but sadly the true meaning of Thanksgiving has become more and more obscure with each passing year.  Soon Thanksgiving Day will be renamed, "Black Thursday"...the first of the month long spending frenzy called "holiday shopping."  Note the word "Christmas" is also omitted more and more frequently. 

History is being rewritten.  Now the first Thanksgiving is protrayed as the Pilgrims' thanking the Indians for sharing their food.  God is removed from the equation of protection and provision.  The turkey is the center of attention.  It just isn't politically correct to be thankful to God.  We might offend someone who isn't a believer.  Oh well, this over-fifty Southern girl refuses to be politically correct when it comes to my God and Savior, Jesus Christ.    

I am thankful to God for His provision...not the turkey.  Enjoy the day with family and friends, but please take the time to be truly thankful to Jehovah Jireh, Our Provider.  He is VERY good...and His loving kindness endures FOREVER.
 
Psalm 107:  "O give thanks unto the LORD, for he is good: for his mercy endureth for ever."

Psalm 100:  "Make a joyful noise unto the LORD, all ye lands. ²Serve the LORD with gladness: come before his presence with singing.³Know ye that the LORD he is God: it is he that hath made us, and not we ourselves; we are his people, and the sheep of his pasture. ⁴Enter into his gates with thanksgiving, and into his courts with praise: be thankful unto him, and bless his name. ⁵For the LORD is good; his mercy is everlasting; and his truth endureth to all generations."

Psalm 96:  ¹O sing unto the LORD a new song: sing unto the LORD, all the earth. ²Sing unto the LORD, bless his name; shew forth his salvation from day to day. ³Declare his glory among the heathen, his wonders among all people. ⁴For the LORD is great, and greatly to be praised: he is to be feared above all gods. ⁵For all the gods of the nations are idols: but the LORD made the heavens.
⁶Honour and majesty are before him: strength and beauty are in his sanctuary. ⁷Give unto the LORD, O ye kindreds of the people, give unto the LORD glory and strength. ⁸Give unto the LORD the glory due unto his name: bring an offering, and come into his courts. ⁹O worship the LORD in the beauty of holiness: fear before him, all the earth. ¹⁰Say among the heathen that the LORD reigneth: the world also shall be established that it shall not be moved: he shall judge the people righteously.  ¹¹Let the heavens rejoice, and let the earth be glad; let the sea roar, and the fulness thereof. ¹²Let the field be joyful, and all that is therein: then shall all the trees of the wood rejoice ¹³Before the LORD: for he cometh, for he cometh to judge the earth: he shall judge the world with righteousness, and the people with his truth.

Shout to the Lord
by Chris Tomlin

Shout to the Lord, all the earth,
Let us sing
Power and majesty, praise to the King;
Mountains bow down and the seas will roar
At the sound of Your name.
I sing for joy at the work of Your hands,
Forever I'll love You, forever I'll stand,
Nothing compares to the promise I have in You.

My Jesus, My Savior,
Lord, there is none like You;
All of my days
I want to praise
The wonders of Your mighty love.

My comfort, my shelter,
Tower of refuge and strength;
Let every breath, all that I am
Never cease to worship You.

Shout to the Lord, all the earth,
Let us sing
Power and majesty, praise to the King;
Mountains bow down and the seas will roar
At the sound of Your name.
I sing for joy at the work of Your hands,
Forever I'll love You, forever I'll stand,
Nothing compares to the promise I have in You.

Shout to the Lord, all the earth,
Let us sing
Power and majesty, praise to the King;
Mountains bow down and the seas will roar
At the sound of Your name.
I sing for joy at the work of Your hands,
Forever I'll love You, forever I'll stand,
Nothing compares to the promise I have in You.
Nothing compares to the promise I have
Nothing compares to the promise I have in you

Copyright 2011 Charlotte Laney

Motherhood: No Regrets

It rained during the night and it's a cloudy start to this Monday.  I am still enjoying the slower pace to my mornings post-employment.  The big black dog and I had our breakfast early.  He sleeps at my feet while I have devotions, check messages, or write.  Oh, to have the carefree life of a very spoiled dog! 

Thirty three years ago today at 10:20 a.m., I became a Mommy for the first time.  Happy birthday, D!  Where have the years gone?  It seems like only yesterday that my husband called me on Monday evening to say he was delayed at work.  It was two weeks before my due date, and I hadn't told him I'd had contractions off and on all day.  I proceeded to say, "Um, I think you'd better get home soon.  I think we need to get to the hospital".  He was a nervous wreck by the time he made it home.  Had he known that although we were the first to be admitted that evening we would be last to deliver, he probably would have been much calmer.  It was a "Hard Days Night" as the Beatles song goes, and hubby still reminds us that he missed Monday Night Football.

It's crazy how trends change.  In the late 1970's natural childbirth was the "only" way to go.  If you used the Lamaze childbirth method but needed pain medication to get you through labor and delivery, you failed the test.  At least that's how I felt.  It's almost as if our goal was receiving a Badge of Courage for enduring the pain.  It's really funny, years after my best friend and I had our babies, we were discussing our childbirth experiences.  In prior accounts, I must have failed to mention (or intentionally omitted) taking half-doses of Demerol during the really long labor with my first son.  Shocked, she said, "You took Demerol?!  I wouldn't take any drugs.  I thought if you had done it without them, then I could to".  We really laughed over that one.  Not that I regret the experience, but seriously, how many of us suffered needlessly for turning childbirth into some kind of competition?

Fast forward to the next generation.  At the hospital when our youngest grandson was born, I was amazed watching our daughter-in-law.  During labor, she was sitting up, laughing and talking while a monitor showed her having "huge" contractions.  She'd had an epidural early into labor and was feeling absolutely no pain. 

No fair!  I WANT A DO OVER!!  Okay, I take that back; I would take nothing for my childbirth experiences, with and without pain medication.  Being the mom of two awesome sons is my life's greatest achievement.  I've never regretted the experience; not even one day.  Hmmm....but then again, there were some days during those teenage years...  Sorry guys...just kidding!


Copyright 2011 Charlotte Laney

Remembering: Veteran's Day

Friday, November 11, is Veterans Day...a day to remember and honor those who have served in the United States Armed Forces.  Veterans Day was formerly known as Armistice Day, a day to commemorate the formal ending of hostilities of World War I, signed the eleventh hour of the eleventh day of the eleventh month of 1918.  If I learned this in World History, I had forgotten it.

Hanging on the wall of our guest bedroom are the war medals of my husband's grandfather.  The frame also holds a German Mark he carried in his wallet while stationed in Germany, and a handwritten letter.  On the outside of the envelope it says, "Mother's Letter."  Soldier's Mail is written where a stamp would normally be; apparently soldiers did not have to pay postage.  The letter is transcribed below:

Coblenz, Germany
May 11, 1919

Dear Mama,

Just a few lines to let you know that I am all right and sure hope this finds you all the same.  It rained all the afternoon yesterday, and all night last night.

Well Mama, I heard some good news Saturday.  I heard that we would be home by the first of September.  Well, I sure hope we will get there by that time if not before, for if I ever did want to see anybody in my life, I want to see you all, "especially Maye", Mama.  I know you all are taking care of her alright and don't forget you will get paid for it, too, just as soon as I get home and get straightened out. 

If I have thought about you all one time since I've left home, I have thought about you a million times.  The first thing I think about when I get out of bed every morning is if you all are alright, and you all are on my mind all the time, day and night.  I will be the happiest boy on earth when I get back home. 

I think you will find a change in me.  This Army life has changed a good many of the boys..some for better, and others not so good.  But Mama, I thought of Maye, and you, and my dear sisters whenever I felt myself slipping, and thank God I haven't done one thing that I would be ashamed to tell you. 

I know Charlie has told you all about this country and the people.  I can't start to tell you about it now, but will sure tell you all about it when I get home.

Well Mama, take good care of Maye, and the rest of the folks.  Give everybody my love, and write real soon.  Hoping I will be home soon, so we can go to camp meeting.

As ever,

Your boy
----------------------------
"Your boy" was Thomas Hardeman Berry and Maye, mentioned in his letter, was his wife Theresa Maye Butler Berry.  We called him "Paw", but friends and family called him "Hardeman".  He was old when I first met him so it's difficult for me to imagine him as a young soldier in World War I.  This letter makes me so proud of him, though.  He dearly loved his wife and family.  With God's help he was able to keep his life pure and stay faithful to his wife while thousands of miles away from home.  Character is: "who you are when you think no one is looking".     

Tomorrow, remember to thank God and the men and women who have served, and are serving, in our military.  They keep us safe so that we can sleep in peace in our nice warm beds tonight.

Copyright 2011 Charlotte Laney

Good Name - More Desirable than Riches

Well, how are you adjusting to the first Monday of fall without Daylight Savings Time?  Last night I wasn't at all sleepy at 11:00, probably due to the fact that I napped almost all Sunday afternoon.  This morning I'm awake and up before daylight, as usual.  I would venture to say that my Grandpa Gaddis would have rebelled against Daylight Savings time and refused to change his clocks with the seasons!  He would have thought it was ridiculous, since he also refused to turn on a light in the house until it was dark-thirty. 

I definitely come from frugal stock on my mother's side of the family.  To my knowledge, my grandparents (father or mother's) never even owned a car.  Wow, that's amazing, isn't it!  We can't even imagine going a day without one, much less a lifetime. 

I always thought my Grandpa Gaddis was a very tall man until I found his height listed on Ancestry.com.  According to his WWI draft registration, he was 5'11" tall.  He always wore a hat, and by comparison, my grandmother was only 4'11" tall.  The contrast between the two made him seem very tall, indeed.  Grandma Gaddis was a tiny, feisty woman with extremely long, white hair worn coiled up into a bun.  I loved to brush out her long hair when they would come to our house for an extended visit.  My mother, the eighth of nine children,  couldn't remember her mother without white hair.  Birthing nine children (at home) probably drove the color right out!

In his lifetime, my grandfather farmed and worked in the copper mines of Tennessee.  They later moved to Clover, South Carolina, where they sharecropped on Duke Power land.  As Grandpa got older I imagine farming alone became too difficult, so they moved to North Belmont, North Carolina, where he worked for a time at the Firestone Mill.  By the time I came along (the last of bookoodles of grandchildren), he had most likely retired.

My grandfather was a true gentleman who treated my grandmother like a queen.  In my entire life, I can't recall ever hearing him raise his voice to anyone.  Although he was economical with regard to material possessions, he saved in order to leave a little something behind for each of his children.  However, the greatest inheritance he bestowed upon all of us is a life lived well, a Christian heritage, a good name, one that each of his descendants can be proud to share.

Proverbs 22:1:  "A good name is more desirable than great riches; to be esteemed is better than silver or gold." - NIV

Copyright 2011 Laney's Musings
      

Time Change & Good Books

Although it's still dark outside, I'm wide awake, dressed, and ready for the day. Beginning Sunday, Daylight Savings Time ends, so the sun should be up by the time most of us start our day.  Sadly, it will be dark earlier in the afternoon. On this particular Sunday each year, more people are early for church -- usually because they forgot to change their clocks the night before.  But, I would rather be early than late.
  
When I was still employed, I hated the fall time change. By the time we got home from work and dinner was started, it was already dark. My husband works in an office without a window, which would drive me crazy! My moods are in sync with the amount of sunshine I'm exposed to during the day. Long periods of cloudy, rainy days brings out the "Gloomy Gus" in me. Hopefully, this year I will adjust to the fall time change easier since, thankfully, I can be outside anytime I want.

I found a book at the GW Boutique (Goodwill for the uninitiated) last weekend. For you Jane Austen fans, An Assembly Such as This by Pamela Aidan is the first in a series of three about Mr. Darcy from Pride and Prejudice. The book is written in a very similar style to Austen's, but tells the story of Elizabeth Bennett and Mr. Darcy from Fitzwilliam Darcy's point of view.  I absolutely love the movie with Keira Knightley and Matthew Macfadyen, and I've read the book by Austen a couple of times.  Pride and Prejudice was written by Jane Austen in 1813. Books from that era can be difficult for twenty-first century readers.  Many of the customs and dialogue from that time period are foreign to us today.  Once I became accustomed to Austen's poetic style, I began to appreciate her sense of humor and wordplay. If you haven't tried reading books from another century, you might find the experience to be somewhat like broccoli, an acquired taste you come to love. If you don't want to read the book, Pride and Prejudice, at least rent or download the 2005 movie. Be forewarned, it's definitely a chick-flick. One of the sweetest things my husband ever did was spent an entire evening with me watching Emma and Pride and Prejudice. A double-feature mind you!  Now that's true love!  But if truth be known, he probably wasn't paying too close attention to the storyline; but it was nice to have him in the same room, nonetheless.

Copyright 2011 Laney's Musings

Beauty In Ordinary Days

I've celebrated three birthdays in the last two weeks; my brother's, mine and my youngest son's.  In our family most of us have September, October, and November birthdays.  Sticking to any semblance of a diet is really difficult, especially since mingled in between all the birthdays is leftover Halloween candy, overindulgence at Thanksgiving, and let's not forget celebrating Christmas (with food) from Thanksgiving until New Year's Day.  My pudgy tummy is already showing the effects, and it's just November 2nd.  My goodness, I'll be roly-poly for sure by the first of the year if I'm not careful.

But it happens every year.  My big plans for exercising starting in July got waylaid by the hot, humid weather of summer.  When the thermometer finally dropped enough to get started, it turned cold this week.  We dropped thirty degrees between one day and the next and haven't reached sixty all week!  I know, I know!  Our northern neighbors think sixty is a heat wave, but for this cold-natured southern girl, if it's not seventy two or higher, it's cold!

In addition to the leftover Kit-Kats and Reeses' from Monday night's trick-or-treaters, I am definitely enjoying the beautiful fall leaves in the area.  Our maples and dogwoods are brilliant shades of yellow-orange and red.  Most of the trees in our yard are still holding onto their leaves, which means lots of leaf raking, blowing, bagging, and composting to come.  Our two huge oak trees sometimes hold their leaves until spring!  The photo at the beginning of this blog is of my granddaughter in the North Carolina mountains.  Oh, if we could all, like children, retain the joy and wonder of  ordinary days.   

A couple of weeks ago my friend and I were coming home from the antique mall.  We were about three blocks away from my house, when right in front of us, a tiny whirlwind suddenly began emptying all the leaves from a large tree.  They were at peak color, and we were caught right in the middle of a golden "leaf storm".  We stopped the car in the middle of the road and watched, mesmerized, as God showed off His handiwork.  After most of the leaves had fallen, I suddenly remembered I had my camera in my purse.  I took some photos, but was disappointed because I couldn't accurately capture the beauty of the moment.  Even at fifty-plus years, I am still amazed when God reveals His beauty and majesty in the midst of ordinary days.

Psalm 67:1:7:   May God be gracious to us and bless us and make his face shine on us so that your ways may be known on earth, your salvation among all nations. May the peoples praise you, God; may all the peoples praise you. May the nations be glad and sing for joy, for you rule the peoples with equity and guide the nations of the earth. May the peoples praise you, God;  may all the peoples praise you. The land yields its harvest; God, our God, blesses us. May God bless us still, so that all the ends of the earth will fear him.

Copyright 2011  Laney's Musings

Link to Song by Mercy Me:  All of Creation
      

The Work of Our Hands

Psalm 90:17 "And let the beauty of the LORD our God be upon us: and establish thou the work of our hands upon us; yea, the work of our hands establish thou it."

Are you like me and have lots of old linens stashed away in your attic or closets?  Okay, probably not!  Sometimes I think I was born in the wrong era.  I love old things, especially needlework and quilting from my mother and grandmother's generation.  All those tiny stitches come together to paint a canvas of thread.  Having done a few pieces of my own, I know the hours required to create the embroidery designs on napkins, pillowcases, sheets, and hand towels.  Our predecessors lovingly made linens for their own, or a beloved daughter's, hope chest.  Before electricity, I'm sure there were strained eyes while tatting or crocheting dresser scarves, doilies, and table runners by lamplight.

It's embarrassing; I literally have dozens of cloth napkins.  Until I started to corral them all in one place, I didn't realize how many.  How that happened, I am not quite sure.  They just seem to call my name at yard sales and vintage shops...."Rescue me, Laney!".  You know, I just have to oblige. 
Not only tablecloths, but I also have vintage doilies, tablecloths, tablerunners, and pillowcases.  Many were hand-embroidered by my mother.  As I run my hand over the stitches, I connect with her and envision a life so far removed from mine.  She never worked outside the home, but you would never find a harder worker.  Her hands did not know idleness, and I am proud to have been her daughter. 

Compared to my mother and grandmother's life, I am pampered and spoiled from hard work.  I can flip a switch and my home's rooms and yard are flooded with light.  The turn of a knob or push of a button is all that's required for heating up the stove top, oven, or microwave.  I don't need a root cellar or have to buy ice in order to keep food cold.  I have a refrigerator just steps away.  Trips to the bathroom don't have to be planned ahead--depending on the weather outdoors.  Running water comes from a faucet instead of a well bucket or trip to the nearest creek.  My washing machine and automatic dryer is inside.  My grandmother heated water in an iron pot in the yard for washing clothes.  I would imagine the expression "laundry day" was literal, not figurative.  Both she and my mother hung their clothes on a line--even in cold weather.  Although I do have a garden, I don't have to grow, catch, or kill the food I eat.  Most of it comes from the grocery store.

Since life was so hard, I imagine that is why beauty was so important to the women of the past.  Although their creations were mostly utilitarian, they are also lovely to look at.  Do we still have the ability to create beauty with our hands?  I know we have the ability to learn, but do we have the desire?  Youthful, nimble fingers and thumbs might find a more useful purpose than creating text messages, don't you think?  The result just might be amazing enough to be appreciated by the next generation.


Copyright 2011 Charlotte Laney

        

    

Rainy Days and Wednesdays...

Yuck...it's raining again.  It seems that every time I have plans to go to the Carousel Horse Antiques, it rains.  Actually, it has rained three out of my last five visits.  Joyce probably dreads seeing me coming since I seem to always bring rain.  People usually don't like to get out and shop when it's raining...at least I don't.

On days like today, it's nice to find a good book and curl up on the sofa with a cup of hot chocolate or flavored coffee.  Unfortunately, within ten minutes, I have usually read the same paragraph over about four times and have started checking my eyelids for leaks.  Sometimes picking up a book is the best cure for insomnia.  Crack open a book and pronto, I'm sleepy. 

I haven't always been this way.  In my past, there have been plenty of all-nighters.  I have frantically glanced at the clock, then said to myself, "just a couple more pages and I have to stop".  Sadly, those "couple more pages" ended up being the entire book.  At four in the morning, I suddenly realized I had to get up for work in two and a half hours.  Now I have plenty of time to read books, but I haven't...no excuses offered.  They would be lame excuses, anyway. 

It's amazing how I can justify or rationalize just about anything.  I read a devotional yesterday on Proverbs 31 Ministries website (see, I do still read).  The author talked about the difference between busyness and empty busyness.  It's kind of like calories and empty calories.  Although apples have calories and offer energy and good nutrition, I am more likely to choose Little Debbie Chocolate Peanut Butter Wafers as my snack of choice.  They have plenty of calories, but offer little in the way of nutritional value.

The same goes with my busyness.  I can find lots of things to keep me busy, (Craig's List, Ebay, Facebook) but at the end of the day have I really accomplished anything?  For accountability, a to-do list is a good way to keep my empty-busyness in check.  Without a plan to follow, I usually don't accomplish much.  Sometimes we just need to be reminded that God has a plan for us, and He is interested in every aspect of our lives.  He's interested in what I eat, what I say, what I do, what I think....the list is endless.  Ephesians 5:15-16 says, "Be very careful, then, how you live—not as unwise but as wise, making the most of every opportunity, because the days are evil."  I needed to be reminded that I am accountable to God for what I accomplish, or don't accomplish today.  Maybe you needed a gentle reminder, too. 

Copyright 2011 Charlotte Laney
   

Pumpkin Patch

Fall is such a fun time of year.  The colors of the changing leaves are such a beautiful mix of green, orange, yellow, red and brown.  Even though the weather is still warm during the day, the nights are beginning to chill down.  The first of October marks the opening days of corn mazes, hayrides, and pumpkin patches.  I have always loved big orange pumpkins.  Years ago before orange pumpkins were at every grocery store and roadside stand, we used to drive two and a half hours to Asheville to get an orange pumpkin every October.  Back then, almost all of the pumpkins around Charlotte were yellow...which just wouldn't do! 

I remember once when the boys were about five and one, we took them to a pumpkin patch.  There's no cuter photoshoot opportunity than children against a backdrop of orange pumpkins.  I took lots of pictures of them climbing among the pumpkins that day.  It was years before the invention of digital cameras, and cameras used rolls of film.  Somehow the roll of film was removed from the camera, got mixed in with a load of dirty laundry, and made a trip through the washing machine.  I was devastated since the pictures couldn't be replaced.  Although I wasn't at all hopeful, we sent the roll of film to be developed.  Although the pictures weren't great, they did survive.  I still smile when I look at those pictures of long ago.  They remind me of the sudsy bath the film endured.  More importantly they represent a fun day spent with our sons...a special memory frozen in time.

Friday we took our three grandchildren to a pumpkin patch about four miles from our home.  They each wanted to pull their own red wagons to gather pumpkins. We also trekked through the corn maze...forging our own path.  Our granddaughter is a fearless explorer at heart.  She led the way as we tromped through the corn stalks.  Along with the corn maze and pumpkin patch, there were chickens, pigs, goats, cows, a donkey, pony, and a horse. 

Picking pumpkins was interesting.  My grandchildren are just as particular about their orange pumpkins as their Grandma Laney.  We put pumpkins in their wagons, only to replace them a few feet down the path when a better one was found.  Our oldest grandson, who's three, was upset that the pumpkins didn't have faces.  I guess he thought they grew that way.  Being a grandparent is such a blessing...fun without the responsibility of parenting.  The love in my heart for those three precious little ones feels no different than what I feel for my own sons.  It's amazing how the wellspring of love never goes dry; it continues to bubble forth with each addition into our lives.

On Friday, I captured the memory of another special day at the pumpkin patch with our entire family, both in pictures and in my heart.

Copyright 2011 Charlotte Laney
  

God Is Strong Enough

My former pastor, Dr. W. Jack Hudson, used to say, "When God squeezes your heart, tears flow out of your eyes".  Well, my heart has been squeezed dry recently.  It's so difficult to know that those we love and care about are hurt, grieving, and stressed beyond comprehension and we are helpless to "fix" or make things better. 

There are times when all we can do is plead for God's Holy Spirit to surround them with his unfathomable love, peace and comfort.  Human words are oftentimes useless when trying to express the depth of our compassion and empathy.  If only heart-hurts could be comforted as simply as kissing a  tearful child's "boo boo", or if a Hello Kitty band-aid could bandage a wounded soul.  Our feeble attempts at comfort pale in comparison to God's comfort for His children.  Give your burdens over to the arms of our Saviour, Jesus Christ.  He's strong enough... 

Psalm 126:5 - "Those who sow in tears shall reap with joyful shouting."

Psalm 30:5 - "For His anger is but for a moment, His favor is for a lifetime; Weeping may last for the night, But a shout of joy comes in the morning."

Isaiah 66:13a -  “As one whom his mother comforts, so I will comfort you;”

2 Corinthians 1:3-7 - "Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of mercies and God of all comfort, who comforts us in all our affliction so that we will be able to comfort those who are in any affliction with the comfort with which we ourselves are comforted by God. For just as the sufferings of Christ are ours in abundance, so also our comfort is abundant through Christ. But if we are afflicted, it is for your comfort and salvation; or if we are comforted, it is for your comfort, which is effective in the patient enduring of the same sufferings which we also suffer; and our hope for you is firmly grounded, knowing that as you are sharers of our sufferings, so also you are sharers of our comfort.

Copyright 2011 Charlotte Laney

Click below for Matthew West's song:

     Matthew West - Strong Enough

German Chocolate Cake & Starlight Mints

Yesterday, October 5th, would have been my father-in-law, J.C.'s, ninety-second birthday.  I still miss his smiling face and lip kisses...a mere peck on the cheek just wouldn't do.  If you shook hands with him, beware!  He had a bone-crushing "real man's" grip.  Those weathered, calloused hands weren't afraid of hard work.  When anyone asked about the partial finger on his right hand, he laughingly called it his "mustard spreader".  He caught it in a piece of machinery at work and lost the tip of his right middle finger.  A little accident didn't slow him down.  There was always a project going on out in the workshop.  The workshop is now quiet; his tools are dusty and rusty...missing him.

Pop was addicted to Starlight mints, one of his few vices.  He carried them in his pocket and always pressed one into my hand every Sunday morning at church, 'cause he knew I love them too.  He was not afraid to stand up for what is right, and he wouldn't mince words about it, either.  You will never find a more loving and faithful husband, father, grandfather, great-grandfather, or friend.  Although he was my father-in-law, I was never treated as anything other than a "daughter in love".

Just in case we celebrate earthly birthdays in heaven, Pop, please save me a place at the table next to you.  I want a big piece of Margaret's German chocolate cake and a Starlight Mint.


Copyright 2011 Charlotte Laney

Treasure in Jars of Clay

My best friend and I are starting Vicki and Laney's Treasures at Carousel Horse Antiques, Collectibles & Used Furniture at 612 W. Main Street, Locust, NC.  We chose vendor number 47 to represent 2 Corinthians 4:7, the cornerstone for our business venture.  The verse says, "But we have this treasure in jars of clay, to show that this all-surpassing power is of God and not of us."

There is plenty to be accomplished and my house is turned upside down right now.  For years I have thought I would love to have a vintage, antiques, collectibles, or craft booth.  After I retired my friend and I learned about Carousel Horse and started praying about the possibility of starting our own business there.  When we first inquired, there were no booth openings available, but we were told there was a possibility of an opening the first of October.  We had our heart set on a certain booth, but when we got the call on September 30th that space was available, it wasn't the one that we wanted.  Not wanting to pass up our chance, we agreed to take the space.  On October 1st, while we were waiting for the occupant to clear out his merchandise, the shop owner said the booth we originally wanted became available that day.  We were so excited!

I can hardly believe it! I have always loved to shop antique malls, thrift stores, estate and garage sales. I am a bargain hunter at heart. To get started, we plan to sell some things from our personal collections, plus some summer purchases made with a shop in mind.

This afternoon when my husband got home from work, we went to Carousel Horse, about 40 minutes from our house.  We only had two hours before the store closed, but since we are a good team, we were able to get our 10 by 10 space painted in just over an hour.   If all goes according to plan, we hope to be open for business in about a week to ten days. 

It shouldn't amaze me that God loves us enough to work out the minor details of our lives.  He promises in Psalm 37:4 that if we delight ourselves in the Lord, He will give us the desires of our heart." 


Copyright 2011 Charlotte Laney   



  

A House Not Made With Hands

While I sat on the beach last Tuesday enjoying the beauty and tranquility of the ocean, a family I know discovered their little boy has a life-threatening illness.  The gut-wrenching fear and uncertainty his parents face can only be understood by someone who has experienced a similar event.

Almost thirty-three years ago my husband and I were elated at the birth of our first child.  The first weeks as new parents was exciting, but frightening since our baby wasn't thriving as expected.  Our pediatrician didn't seem too concerned that our baby hadn't regained his birth weight at four weeks.  He was also annoyed when his dinner plans were interrupted at Christmas by two worried parents.  His instructions were only to change from breast milk to soy formula.

At around five weeks, I noticed our baby's complexion seemed tanned and his face had the look of a wizened old man.   My good friend who was moving out of state dropped by to say goodbye.  While she was there, she was frightened when she saw his condition.  After hearing of our experiences with the pediatrician, she immediately called a friend who was a nurse at another pediatric office.  Although the main pediatrician was not taking any new patients, she was able to get an immediate appointment for us with his young associate, just out of medical school.

At the appointment I began to describe symptoms to the new doctor while he examined our son.  When I mentioned his skin color, he told me it was definitely jaundice, not just a dark complexion.  He pressed on his abdomen and began making pen marks.  I later learned he was marking the margins of his greatly enlarged liver.   

Hospital admission quickly followed.  Our lives turned upside down as events spiraled out of control.  In 1978, there was no WebMd or Internet to search medical terms and treatment options.  The suspected diagnosis was either biliary atresia, or congenital hepatitis.  Biliary atresia is fatal for infants without surgical shunts or liver transplants.  Liver failure can occur with congenital hepatitis, and the only medical treatment available was rest and good nutrition.  Surgery was required to make a diagnosis, but we were not facing good options either way.

I consciously tried to hold my emotions in check except when I was alone, but one night I fell apart when a young nurse commented on how well I was doing.  My husband and I were twenty-four and twenty-five years old, totally unprepared to face the huge mountain before us.  We were both physically and emotionally exhausted.

Physicians and medical students streamed into the hospital room each morning, went over medical charts, then stood in the hallway discussing options I didn't understand.   I cried while blood samples were squeezed from tiny heels.  While wearing a heavy lead vest, I also cried while holding his little arms and legs still for x-rays.  I cried when he wasn't allowed to have formula for an entire night and part of the next day.  His pacifier was his only comfort.     

I begged God for healing, but peace just did not come.  Then one night as I read my Bible, I found 2 Corinthians 5:1 which says, "For we know that if the earthly tent which is our house is torn down, we have a building from God, a house not made with hands, eternal in the heavens."  The meaning became clear for me.  If our son did not survive, I could be comforted to know he would be cared for and loved in God's house.  Broken, I told God how much I loved my son, but if He needed him more, I was willing to give him up.  If he allowed him to live, I promised to raise him for God's service.  I didn't know a lot about the Bible, so I was surprised to later realize this was the same prayer that Hannah prayed when she so desperately wanted a son.   

The night before surgery, the older pediatrician (who was not taking any new patients) prayed with us in the hallway outside our baby's hospital room.  We gave permission for administering an experimental radioactive dye during surgery, knowing an adverse reaction could prove fatal.  Surgery would last about forty-five minutes, with only a small incision, if bile ducts were present.  If there were no bile ducts, surgery would last several hours, with a large incision, while shunts were inserted.  I carried our son to the doors of the operating room.  He was only six weeks old and we were unsure of what the future would hold.     

Forty five minutes later, the surgeon came in with a smile on his face.  There were definitely bile ducts present, and the biopsy confirmed hepatitis.  Within two days his bilirubin levels began to improve, his skin color pinked up, and the whites of his eyes began to clear.  Within just a few days we were able to go home.     

This was the first of many, many times God comforted me as His cherished child.  Over the years the Holy Spirit has uttered prayers on my behalf when I was so burdened I couldn't even begin to put them into words.  He knows me so well and loves me that much.  My prayers have not always been answered in the way I had hoped or expected.  But God has proven time and time again that His grace is sufficient, and God is good all the time.   

In November our oldest son will be 33.  As he leads praise and worship in church, I am humbled and thankful to Jehovah-Rapha for healing, and His promise of "a house not made with hands, eternal in the heavens". 


Copyright 2011 Charlotte Laney

Mourning the Last Day of Summer

Okay, enough is enough.  I don't think I've seen the sun for more than 30 minutes in over a week.  That may be okay for some people, but not for me.  I am cloudy-day challenged and must have at least four hours of sunlight each day in order to survive.  Well, maybe not to survive, but at least to be civil to those I come in contact with daily.  This is not a new phenomenon.  I have always been this way.  Just ask my husband.. 

Some people's moods are definitely effected by the amount of sunlight, or lack thereof, they receive each day. Unfortunately, I am one of those people, and today is the last day of summer. Yes, I realize we have had a record year of over 90 degree temperature days in our city.  We can definitely use the rain and cooler weather, but please permit me to whine a bit, okay?

I know autumn will be beautiful, and I'll love it.  But it's raining, and I can't envision it yet!  I will feel better when I pull all of the fall decorations down from the attic.  We have not even reached the first day of autumn, and I am already dreading winter and dreaming of spring.  How's that for wishing your life away?     

An old friend once told me she considered February suicide month.  She didn't mean it literally, but I understand her reasoning.  February is our worst winter month...cold, dreary, depressing, and usually there isn't any snow to make it worth enduring.  Thankfully in the South, when we get past February it is smooth sailing.

Now March, March is a beautiful month.  It's like an adrenalin shot to the senses.  The sun rises earlier and sets later.  Along with the longer days, the temperatures warm up enough to shed the coats, sweatshirts, and sweaters of winter.  Bradford pears, tulips, daffodils, and forsythia blossoms herald spring, soon followed by snow white dogwood and purple redbud blooms.  All of nature comes alive as God dips His paintbrush into the vivid hues of yellow, pink, lavender, green, and white.     

But until then, I need chocolate.  Chocolate is usually my drug of choice for curing a bad mood.  After scouring the cupboards, there's not one chocolate cookie, Debbie Cake, or Hershey's Kiss in the house.  There are two boxes of brownies, but only one egg.  What will happen if I use only one egg?  Flat brownies?  I could live with that.  Okay, not a good idea.  Maybe I could make a third of a batch.  I know, brownie drop cookies!  Excellent idea.

Okay, I think I'll flip on every light in the house, and turn on some happy music (really loud).  I'll pull the fall decorations box from the attic, and bake some one egg, brownie cookies.  Afterwards, I'll eat brownie cookies, check the extended weather forecast, take a nap, and dream of spring.  Sounds like a plan.


Copyright 2011 Charlotte Laney

Special Birthday Wish

Today I'm wishing the happiest of birthdays to my best friend, confidante, and husband.  We've been together for almost two thirds of our lives.  That's a scary thought, isn't it?  He has known and loved me at my best and my worst, my thinnest and my chubbiest, with long hair and short, black hair to mostly gray, and a multitude of shades in between.

He suffered through my early cooking experiments, including once substituting Vienna sausage for sausage links, and a candlelit dinner with canned LaChoy chow mein with burned noodles.  I don't think I've eaten Vienna sausages since, and can't imagine eating canned Chinese food...ever.  Hopefully my cooking skills have improved significantly, as well as our food choices, since those early days of marriage. 

When I was pregnant, he made late night runs to the jiffy mart for honey buns, Fudgesicles, or whatever my round baby belly desired.  Although those late night food binges added more "Laney" pounds than baby pounds, and my doctor said he hoped my husband liked fat girls, he still said I was beautiful.  He also laughed it off when I ordered him to tell my labor and delivery nurse to back off, or else!  I meant it when I threatened to tell her, "If you think you can do it any better than me, you can get up here and do it yourself!"

We've had joyous times and sad times.  God has been faithful to provide for our needs through job losses and medical events, and still provide a Christian education for our two sons.  I know my husband would do anything and everything within his power for his family. 

I'm glad he meant it when he promised to love me for better or for worse, since he definitely got the worst end of the deal.  Few men would put up with me for a month, much less thirty six years.  He is a wonderful husband to me, Daddy to our two grown sons, and Pappy to our three precious grandchildren. 

Happy birthday, Babe.  I still love you "muchly" and I'm so glad I gave you a second glance. 

Copyright 2011 Charlotte Laney      

Needing Mama

Today I woke up feeling really awful.  This room-spinning sensation reminds me of the vertigo and nausea experienced when I had a bacterial infection as a child.  When I am sick, I am a real baby.  Nausea turns me into a toilet-hugging cry-baby!  It's a good thing for my husband that I am rarely sick.  He was such a sweetie to come home from work on his lunch hour just to check on me.  I got a rare gem when I married him almost thirty seven years ago.

When we are sick, we need our mommies.  We need her to put a cold washcloth on our forehead and hold our hair back when we throw up.  She'll bring us chicken noodle soup with saltine crackers and ginger ale with no ice to sip with a straw.  Mamas make sure our pillows are fluffed up and our pillowcases are fresh.  She'll straighten the sheets and make sure our blankets are tucked up tight under our chins.  You may hear her busily working in another room, but she'll be by your side in a moment when you softly call her name.  Mama's ears are tuned to the voices and cries of their children...even in the middle of the night.

Mamas can recognize a fever by placing her cheek against yours or by touching her cool hand to your brow.  They instinctively know how to make you feel better...just by being there.  I missed my Mama today.  She's been in heaven with Jesus for almost seven years.  I'm thankful for all those times that she lovingly took care of me when I was sick...as a child and as an adult. 

A huge thank you goes to my wonderful husband for pinch-hitting in her absence.  You are not Mama, but you are a good nurse!

Copyright 2011 Charlotte Laney 

       

Embarrassing Moments

I heard a story on K-Love this morning of a family traveling during rainy weather.  The wife wanted a soft drink, and her husband said he'd stop at the nearest convenience store.  He told her since it was raining she'd have to go in and get the drink herself.  She ran in, purchased the soft drink, and ran back out, head down, dodging raindrops.   

Once she had jumped in the van and plunked her drink in the cup holder, she saw her husband bent over picking something up from the floorboard.  She smacked him a few times on the bottom, and said..."I should spank your booty", followed by a little drum roll..."ba da dum dum".  When he sat up suddenly, she soon discovered it wasn't her husband at all, but instead an old bald guy.  Realizing she was in the wrong van, she glanced over and saw her husband staring at her from the van beside her.  She jumped out, leaving her drink behind, then ran and climbed in the passenger side of her van.  Once inside, she slumped down in the seat to hide.  Her daughter in the backseat leaned up and said, "Mommy, why were you in the car with that man?" 

I laughed so hard when I heard this, because it sounds exactly like something I would do.  I don't know how many times when leaving church I have tried to open the door of a car that looked like ours.  My husband would usually say, "What are you doing?  That's not our car."  Thankfully, no one was in the driver's seat!  That's what happens when we become preoccupied and oblivious to our surroundings.

I would have to say my most embarrassing moment (to date) happened in an upscale store at a local mall.  As I walked along, I suddenly tripped over something.  When I looked down, the foot of a pair of pantyhose was hanging out of my pants leg and it was dragging the ground.  I looked all around to see if anyone had seen it, then proceeded to go behind a display and attempted to pull it out.  The more I pulled, the more it stretched; but it would not come out.  Thus the dilemma...instead of a little bit of pantyhose hanging out of my pants, now there's a lot.  I tried to stuff it back inside, but knew I had to get to a restroom to remove it.   

One of my favorite old movies is Bringing Up Baby.  There's a scene where Katherine Hepburn's dress rips down the back.  Cary Grant walks, glued to her backside, in order to get her across the room and out of the restaurant.  Well, that's probably what we looked like when my husband walked behind me--across the entire store--to find the nearest restroom.   

After that event, I learned it's wise to always use drier sheets.  They may save you from a really embarrassing situation one day.  Thankfully, time has the tendency to turn embarrassing moments into what they should be...just funny stories.   


Copyright 2011 Charlotte Laney

  

Refueling in the Garden

It's a Carolina-blue morning...even if we are a Duke Blue Devils family.   My hummingbird friend just hovered at the french doors as if to say, "You are late...my feeder's empty.  Get out here and fill it up!"  

This is the first summer I was aware that gorgeous yellow and black goldfinches shared my backyard.  They are busily finishing up the last of the dried coneflower seeds, since only a few purple flowers remain.  I only see the goldfinches in the morning and late afternoon; but before, I was too busy with work life to even notice.  Nature is amazing, when you slow down enough to appreciate it. 

All of the backyard birds are fueling up for their migration trek.  Their busyness points to the obvious...fall is coming soon.  The earth, plants, animals, and we humans need relief from the hot, dry days of summer.  Likewise, our relationship with God needs fueling up and renewal when we've become too busy to spend time with Him.  Let's face it, sometimes our prayer life gets stagnant.  There are times when it seems as if our prayers bounce off the ceiling, instead of reaching our intended destination...the throne of God.  

One way of drawing close to God is to sing praises to Him.  God loves it when we sing to Him, and He doesn't care if you don't have a beautiful voice.  The Bible says make a joyful "noise" unto the Lord.  I love contemporary Christian music and praise choruses, but I also love some of the old hymns.  The words to the following hymn came to me unexpectedly this morning.  I can hear my Mama's alto voice singing the words, and it brings comfort to my soul.

I come to the garden alone
While the dew is still on the roses
And the voice I hear falling on my ear
The Son of God discloses.

Refrain:
And He walks with me, and He talks with me,
And He tells me I am His own;
And the joy we share as we tarry there,
None other has ever known.

He speaks, and the sound of His voice,
Is so sweet the birds hush their singing,
And the melody that He gave to me
Within my heart is ringing.

(Repeat Refrain)
I'd stay in the garden with Him
Though the night around me be falling,
But He bids me go; through the voice of woe
His voice to me is calling.

(Repeat Refrain)

Has your relationship with God become a little distant and stagnant?  Ask Him today for renewed joy and restoration of your relationship.  Maybe you've never had a personal relationship with God and His Son, Jesus.  He loved you enough to die for you, and He's only a prayer away. 


John 3:16:  "For God so loved the world that he gave His only begotten Son, that whoever believes in Him should not perish, but have life eternal."-NASB

        

Copyright 2011 Charlotte Laney

The Beach is Calling My Name

It's September, kids are back in school, Labor Day is over, and North Carolinians will soon be heading to the mountains in droves for the changing of the leaves.  But instead of the mountains, the beach is calling my name.  I heard it clearly today when humidity levels dropped and Charlotte's temperature was in the mid-eighties. 

Beach vacations in September and early October means not having to spread my beach blanket within six feet of a chain smoker with a potty mouth, or a drunken twenty-something bragging to his buddies about how many beers he just drank.  I'm not kidding--that's Myrtle Beach in July, and it's not my idea of fun.  Skip forward a few months and it's a wonderful place to be.  When peak season is over, motel rates are good, the water is still warm, crowds are gone (except for golfers and empty-nesters), and the sun isn't so intense I get burned in fifteen minutes.

I love the beach at daybreak, when the sun's rays on the ocean make it sparkle like diamonds.  The only people on the beach are a few dog walkers, runners, shell collectors, and the occasional surf fisherman.  Stress melts away as I sit on a towel, listening to the rhythmic crashing of waves...no talking allowed for at least twenty minutes. 

It's comical watching little shore birds running to the water's edge, then retreating as if afraid of getting their feet wet.  Occasionally a large bird swoops down, disappears underwater, then emerges with a fish.  How do they do that, I've often wondered?  My only explanation, God made them that way, and that's all I need to know.  One day all the wonderful mysteries of His marvelous creation will be revealed.  Until then, I'll just have to wait, be content, and enjoy them.     

I am indeed thankful to live in the South, and fall is probably our most beautiful time of year.  I live in the Piedmont of  North Carolina, right in the middle, only a few hours from the coast and a few hours from the mountains.  Although I love both places, my favorite place to be in September and early October is definitely the beach.  Save me a front-row seat for sunrise...I'll meet you there soon.  

Genesis 1:9-10:
"Then God said, “Let the waters below the heavens be gathered into one place, and let the dry land appear”; and it was so. God called the dry land earth, and the gathering of the waters He called seas; and God saw that it was good." - NASB 


Copyright 2011 Charlotte Laney       

   


   

Reuse, Renew, Re-purpose

I love garage and estate sales; and unearthing a hidden treasure buried in an antique or thrift store makes my heart beat faster.  One Saturday when my friend's 80 year old mother came along, I told her if we buy one more thing we will have to strap your mom to the roof of the car.  On other occasions, I have felt the urge to jump out of the car while it was still moving to get to a really good garage sale.

I'm not into dumpster diving...yet, but I was tempted this week when I spied a really nice stack of aged wooden pallets "beside" the dumpster at a local Cracker Barrel restaurant.  My mind went into overdrive of what I could do with them.  Unfortunately, my husband didn't seem too keen on the idea, so I came home empty-handed.  Oh well, maybe next time.  Two of my favorite blogs are Funky Junk Interiors and Mamie Jane's .  They do some amazing things with cast offs.  In this economy, reuse, renew and re-purpose have become trendy pastimes, but to my parents and grandparents it as just called "survival".

Several years ago, twig chairs were all the rage.  The craft is called hobo or tramp art, and vintage ones sell for a ridiculous amount of money.  My father was deeply offended by the term, tramp art, since my grandfather fed them during the Great Depression by making and selling twig chairs.  My great-uncle, Grandpa's brother, made "what-not" shelves from cast off wood and thread spools and "whittled tiny animals from peach pits.  Everything had to serve more than one purpose.

When I was a little girl, my mother taught me how to iron.  I ironed sheets, pillowcases, handkerchiefs, and believe it or not...my Daddy's boxer shorts.  We didn't own a clothes drier, so clothes were hung outside on a wire clothesline stretched tightly between two metal "T shaped" poles. 

Sheets dried in the sunshine smelled so fresh and clean, but they were stiff.  Before clothes were ironed, they were "dampened" with a water-filled soda bottle, probably Pepsi or Sun Drop Cola.  The soda bottle had an aluminum sprinkler top with a cork.  Mama dampened the clothes then wrapped them with a thin plastic dry-cleaning bag saved from my Daddy's work uniforms.  The damp clothes were then put in the refrigerator until they were ironed. 

Surely my Daddy was spoiled...I've never ironed a pair of my husband's boxer shorts!  In fact, the first criteria for clothing purchases at my house is...Wrinkle Free, No Ironing Necessary.  Since my husband and I have been purging, he brought an object to me last night and asked, "What do you want to do with this"?  Hmmm...it's been so long since I've seen one, I'm not sure what it is.... Oh, yeah, it's a tabletop ironing board...we could probably toss it out.  But wait...maybe I could use it for something else.


Copyright 2011 Charlotte Laney

 

 

Ten Years Later

In a few short hours we reach a dreaded milestone in America, the tenth anniversary of the terrorist attacks of Tuesday, September 11, 2001.  On that day, I arrived at work at my usual time, around 7:30 a.m.  I greeted co-workers and customers who dropped by to make payments on their school accounts, oblivious to the fact that in less than an hour America would be forever changed. 

American Airlines Flight 11 was hijacked by Muslim jihadists and at 8:46 a.m. the plane crashed into the north tower of the World Trade Center. News traveled quickly.  Someone called to alert us to the news and employees throughout the building gathered around the lobby and dining area televisions.  We watched in horror as the events of that day unfolded.  Minutes later, at 9:03 a.m., a second plane, United Airlines Flight 173, hit the south tower, confirming suspicions that the first crash was a deliberate attack and not just a tragic accident.  

What a dichotomy was taking place!  Babies were innocently sleeping in their cribs while we watched people in New York jumping from the burning buildings.  Those fortunate enough to escape were frantically running for their lives.

Reeling from the events being witnessed, a third plane crashed into the Pentagon at 9:40 a.m.  Nineteen minutes later, we sobbed as the south tower of the World Trade Center collapsed.    

It was revealed much later that shortly after 10:00 a.m. several brave passengers on hijacked United Flight 93 stormed the cockpit in an attempt to take back their plane.  The plane crashed in a Pennsylvania field around 10:07 a.m., killing all on board.  It is believed that the hijackers intended to crash the plane into the U.S. Capitol in Washington, D.C.  Around 10:30, the north tower of the World Trade Center also crumbled.  Air traffic control maps throughout the nation went blank as the FAA grounded all flights.   

Four years later I stood above the gaping hole where the twin towers once stood.  I shuddered while remembering the day when innocent babies slept while almost 3000 people died..and America's naiveté was stolen.   


Copyright 2011 Charlotte Laney     

Memory Collecting--A Good Thing

If you are an Ebay surfer like me and have interest in all kinds of treasures, you are familiar with the term, "MIB"--mint in the box.  Everyone who collects knows that mint in the box products are in perfect condition, have not been used, and generally are of more value to buyers. 

What puzzles me most is that there are any vintage toys that are MIB.  Toys were made to be PLAYED with--by kids!  Don't get me wrong, I have a few Holiday Barbies in the closet collecting dust.  They were bought to fill the void left from a Barbie-less childhood.  I had a fake Barbie, though.  She was purchased with gold stamps, so I am forever scarred.  Actually, I am thankful that I didn't get everything I ever wanted in life.  I believe I am a far better person because of it.

Well, I can safely say that no MIB toys survived my childhood.  My mother kept some of my little "treasures" safely tucked away in the cedar chest.  There were books that I personally illustrated, although my pictures didn't exactly go along with the storyline.  And then there was Susie..no clothes but one shoe, arms out of socket, her once beautiful red hair--coiffed with round-tipped scissors.  Her  cries for "Mama" silenced decades ago by one too many plunges in  the bath.

Unfortunately, my brothers' toys didn't survive unscathed by their little sister, either.  One three-legged Fort Apache plastic horse was proudly displayed on a shelf for years.  Epiphany..is this why I still chew every pen cap I come in contact with?  The taste and texture is very similar, don't you agree?

I've been going through drawers lately in attempts to purge years of collected clutter.  Yesterday I pulled out another remnant of my childhood..toy cooking utensils, and mismatched plates and cups.  As with my other toys, these are well worn, dented, missing handles, rusty with much of their decorative paint missing from digging in dirt and sand.  I remember the little cakes Mama and I cooked in the tiny cake pans and the tea parties we had with the little dishes. 

Why did my mother keep all of those pitiful toys?  It certainly wasn't because of any assumed intrinsic value.  She knew well that I was rough on toys.  You will never see a one of them on the Antiques Road Show.  No, Mama was a memory collector. 

Even before we received the dreaded diagnosis of Alzheimer's, I think Mama knew her memory was fading fast.  She began giving away some of her prized possessions.  But mostly she wanted to share the history of the objects...like the potato salad bowl was the first gift given to her by my grandparents when she and Daddy married.  The hand-painted salad bowl was the first Christmas gift she received from my brother and sister-in-law when they married.  It's now returned to its rightful owners.  The tiny cast iron pot that my Daddy's grandmother played with when she was a child would have been a mystery if the memory had not been shared. 

Some clutter at my house will go, but much of it will stay.  I come from a long line of memory collectors...and that's a good thing. 

Copyright 2011 Charlotte Laney



   

If I Get Up...I Get Off!

North Carolina car tags proudly display the motto, "First In Flight".  I have had few opportunities to fly, but I must say the first time was the most memorable.  My employer was upgrading to a new accounting software system and the bookkeeper, Glenda, and I were required to go to Montgomery, Alabama for training.  Driving would have required us to be away from the office too long.  Since I don't like heights and I'm prone to panic attacks, I really didn't want to go.  Glenda was in charge of making all of the airline and hotel reservations. 

I fretted so much over the airline flight, I decided I couldn't do it without "assistance".  I know I wasn't trusting God, and I shouldn't have accepted them, but a friend offered me a couple of her Xanax anti-anxiety pills--just in case.  Just knowing I had them gave me a little boost of confidence. 

The first leg of our flight was from Charlotte to Atlanta, Georgia. You know you can't fly anywhere without going through Atlanta.  Glenda and I met at the airport the evening of our flight.  She had my tickets.  Back then, family members could go with you to the concourse and wait with you to board.  My husband had flown several times, and he assured me that flying in a big plane is just like sitting in a chair in your living room.  I must not have believed him because, courage waning, I headed for the nearest water fountain and took a Xanax.  Immediately I began to worry.  What if I have a reaction?  It's illegal to take someone else's prescription drugs. 

Calming down, I watched as other flights were called and passengers boarded planes.  As I looked out the window, there were no other planes on the tarmac near our gate...or so I thought. The ticket agent announced, "Here's our baby now".  I looked out and said to my husband, "Where?"  He pointed down.  Way down.  It was a tiny "puddle jumper."  Glenda said to me, "I was afraid to tell you we're flying commuter.  I thought if you knew, you wouldn't come."  Yeah, you're right, I wouldn't have come.  Thanks a lot, dear friend.  Instead of going from the gate, through the jet bridge, into the plane...here we go, down some metal steps and onto the tarmac.  We have to walk up more steps to get on the plane...carrying our bags.  After we store our luggage, we take our seats near the front right side of the plane.  Others boarded the plane after us, but not nearly enough to fill the seats.  

Thankfully, the Xanax had kicked in when the pilot came on the intercom to announce:  "Would some of the passengers on the right side of the plane please move to the left side.  We need to redistribute some weight."  Glenda quickly glanced in my direction.  Woozily, but with determination, I said, "If I get up...I get off!"  

Copyright 2011 Charlotte Laney       

           

Yard Sales & Thrift Stores - New American Pastime

Let's all admit it; the U.S. economy over the past few years stinks!  The housing market has come to a screeching halt.  We've had my dad's house on and off the market for over a year with hardly a nibble.  Unemployment, according to the U.S. Bureau of Labor Statistics for August 2011, is over 9 percent.  What was I thinking, quitting a job in the middle of a recession??  Oh well, God said move--so I did.

Charlotte, my hometown, has a minor league baseball team, The Charlotte Knights.  I just checked their website and weekend general admission tickets (upper deck) are $8 for adults and children 2 - 12 are $7.  Wow, they let your babies up to two in for free..like they are really interested in watching a game!  So, for a family of four it costs $30 for the game, not counting food.  And you know if you have kids, you are not getting out of there without laying out some cash at the concession stand.  Reasonably, for a minor league baseball game, you could spend $60. 

If you want to take the kids to see the Smurf Movie in 3-D at Concord Mills AMC Theaters, plan on paying $11.50 for adults and $9 for each child...plus drinks and popcorn.  Okay, that's another $60 or more...multiplied upward if you have more than two children.

On Labor Day, Goodwill stores in our area had a sale with 50% off donated items.  There is a large store in nearby Concord, NC.  The doors opened at 9:30, and hubby and I thought we'd drive up and see what bargains we could find.  We drove up literally five minutes after the store opened and there was not a single parking space availabe.  We parked on a side road and walked in...no shopping carts, and the store manager came over the intercom and asked people to "play nice".  I found a few books and another small item to purchase.  When I went check out, they only had one cashier.  There were at least twenty people in line in front of me...with full shopping carts.  I laid my items on a nearby table and left...my time is more important to me than a few things I really don't need.  As we exited, more people were flooding in.

So we've come to this...instead of flocking to baseball games and movies as the American pastime, it's yard sales and thrift stores.  Don't get me wrong, I love the thrill of the hunt at a yard sale and a thrift store.  My heart beats faster when I know I'm getting a great deal!  But, lots of people are now shopping yard sales and thrift stores, and buying food at the Dollar Store out of need--instead of want.  But our president and representatives in Washington have it all under control.  How's that change working for you?  As for me and my house, 2012 can't come soon enough!

Copyright 2011 Charlotte Laney 

  

911 Service - God Isn't Invited

The news of the morning...fires continue to ravage the drought-stricken State of Texas, while flooding and the possibility of tornadoes from Tropical Depression Lee threatens the eastern United States.  The east coast is still recovering from last week's earthquake in Virginia and Hurricane Irene, as  Hurricane Katya moves toward us in the Atlantic. 

Film footage this morning on the Early Show showed residents fleeing their homes in Texas while towering flames and billowing smoke rose in the background.  As they were heading toward safety, a lone police car was driving in the opposite direction, straight toward the flames.

This Sunday marks the tenth anniversary of the September 11, 2011 terrorist attacks on our country.  Images of that day are seared in the memories of Americans everywhere.  We will always remember where we were and what we were doing when we heard the news of the attack on the first tower of the World Trade Center.  Glued to televisions, Americans watched in horror and disbelief as a second plane crashed into the South Tower.  As in Texas, while occupants of the North and South Towers were fleeing for their lives, New York police and firefighters were suited up and going in.  It was their job, you say.  Yes, that's true; but they could have chosen another profession, one with less risk.  But they chose instead to protect the buildings, homes, and citizens of their city, a living testament to the motto, "New York's Bravest".

Throughout this week and weekend, newscasts will focus on the tenth anniversary of 911, but public prayer will be glaringly absent from the memorial service agenda in NYC.  Following the terrorist attacks, churches and synagogues were filled with people calling out to God for His divine protection for our nation.  And yet, ten years later God isn't invited...what a sad commentary to the spiritual condition of our nation.  What hope, what encouragement for our future, can possibly be given--apart from God?  Do they not know that His very word spoke this world into existence?  Likewise, His very word can also remove it!

I give my thanks and appreciation to the first responders, policemen, firefighters, and EMT's who risk their lives daily for us.  But,  I give my praise and worship to my Savior and Lord, Jesus Christ, who gave His life for me.  Through Christ, my sins have been forgiven, and I have assurance of an eternal  home with Him in Heaven, one day.

II Chronicles 7:14 says, "if my people, who are called by my name, will humble themselves and pray and seek my face and turn from their wicked ways, then will I hear from heaven and will forgive their sin and will heal their land." 

Our land is desperately in need of healing, and its people are desperately in need of a Savior.  But, over the past ten years, I haven't seen much humbling and turning from wicked ways.  What's that sound I hear?  Could it be Gabriel running through the scales, tuning up his trumpet?  Only Christians can pray as John did, "Even so, come, Lord Jesus."   

Copyright 2011 Charlotte Laney

In Love with a Royal

I am in love with a Royal...not Princes Charles, William, or Harry.  This guy became a Royal at the end of the 1930's, and over the years was well loved by journalists and authors everywhere; but he was also a friend to commoners.  But time passed and his subjects looked to a new generation of Royals to lead them.  It's so sad when one loses their esteemed position in society...cast aside, no longer needed...worthless.  He had no opportunity to abdicate, but was instead dethroned.  He's spent the last sixty or more years doing odd jobs in offices, mail rooms, then menial work wherever it could be found.     

That all ended yesterday.   He'd run out of second chances when I met him again at a local estate sale.  He was pretty dirty from neglect, and a bit overweight from disuse, but that's okay with me.   I like my guys a little on the hefty side.  Although he doesn't remember me, I recognized him immediately.  Well, let's just say I am pretty sure we met years ago in typing class when I was in junior or senior high school.  But, if he isn't THE ONE, he has to be a close relation...those Royals look so much alike, you know.  He was pretty old, even then.        

We redeemed his life for a mere pittance and Hubby had to physically carry him to the car.  It's true he's a bit stiff these days, and has lost some of his youthful sparkle.  Once known for his beautiful words, his writing isn't as clearly expressed as it once was.  All these things aren't important to me.  Guys like Cary Grant, Sean Connery, and Richard Gere just got better with age.  Anyway, I think he's still quite handsome.  With a little love and attention, the qualities for which he was known may emerge even yet.  What a rich life he's lived; evidence of his past are stashed away somewhere..in lock boxes, safes, file cabinets, recipe files, and cedar chests.  Oh, the stories he could tell, if only he would.  But he is a tight-lipped keeper of secrets.

Copyright 2011 Charlotte Laney

Daddy's Short-Lived Life of Crime

While living at 906 West Sixth Avenue as a boy, Daddy's sister introduced him to his first "moving picture show".  Like a drug addict, just one time and he was hooked.  Westerns starring cowboys Ken Maynard, Bob Steele, and Tom Mix, and the Tarzan of the Apes series, must have been sweet release for poor kids in the 1920's.  Since television hadn't been invented, the usual entertainment consisted of hide and seek, stick ball, or swimming in a nearby creek.  The Monday matinee was a double-feature which cost a dime;  Daddy didn't have any money.  It's amazing how early in life we begin to rationalize our bad choices.  Kids don't have to be taught to do wrong, it just seems to come naturally.  Working at a child care for many years, I have laughingly quoted the verse, John 8:44, to describe children..."they ARE of their father, the devil".

At the time, my grandmother was working at the Loray Mill.  From her hard-earned pay, probably about $12 a week, she set aside $1.10 for insurance.  Each payday, the insurance money was placed in an envelope with a premium book and hung on a nail by the front door.  Every Monday the insurance man came and opened the front door, took the money from the envelope, recorded the payment in the premium book, then returned the envelope to the nail.  Apparently, people back then didn't lock their doors.  My grandparents were at work, and the kids were at school, when this transaction took place.  I suppose if a thief came in to rob their house, he would have felt sorry for them and left empty-handed.

Longing to go to the Monday double feature at the Loray Theater at "Greasy Corner", Daddy thought of a way to get the money.  He decided the insurance man didn't need the ten cents in the envelope by the door as badly as he needed to see the movie.  So he took the dime after Grandma left for work, and before he left for school that day.

School was over at 2:30, but instead of going home from school, he went to the double-feature.  Oh, he had a great time...and he got home just before Grandma and Grandpa came in from work.  What a great plan, he thought!  (Daddy's daughter, Laney, had a similar "great plan"--with a similar end result--many years later; but we will save that story for another day.)

The next week, he took another dime and went to another movie...the next week, same thing, and again the next.  A month of Monday double-feature movies transpired without getting caught.  But as usually happens, his "great plan" back-fired.  Grandma came home from work early one Monday while Daddy was still at school.  The insurance man came to collect his weekly payment while she was at home.  He said, "Mrs. Mac, would you like to catch up on the fifty cents you are behind on your insurance premiums today?"  Grandma told him she wasn't behind on her insurance premiums; she put $1.10 in the envelope every week.  The man said, "There's only been a dollar in the envelope each week, Mrs. Mac.  Maybe one of your children took the ten cents and used it to buy candy?"  Grandma told him, "No, none of my children would do that."

That evening Daddy got home from the movies at his normal time, only to discover his mother was already at home.  She asked him, "Did you have a good time at the movies?"  "I haven't been at the movies", he lied.  How she guessed where he had been, or if someone told on him, is a mystery.  But she said, "Well, a little bird told me they saw you at the movies".

He was nailed...a spanking would most certainly follow.  But he had to wait for Grandpa to administer it.  Waiting...it's agony...much worse than the actual spanking itself.  I am sure he didn't sleep well that night, knowing that the wrath of his Daddy must be faced.  

The next morning, nothing happened.  He went to school as usual.  But when school dismissed at 2:30 that day, Grandpa was there to meet him.  He took him by the hand and led him downtown to Greasy Corner.  Bill Whitlow was a big ruddy-complexioned man; he was the policeman who worked the beat there.  My Grandpa took Daddy up to Mr. Whitlow and said,  "Mr. Whitlow, this is my son.  We found out he's been stealing a dime each week from our insurance envelope and going to the movies.  I want you to take a good look at this boy.  If you ever see him around Greasy Corner or the moving picture show without a note of permission to be there from his Mama or me, I want you to lock him up."   

And that was the beginning--and ending--of Daddy's life of crime!

Copyright 2011 Charlotte Laney