Honey Brigance McMackin

It is September 24, 2013.  Exactly seven years ago today my mother’s spirit passed from this life into the eternal realm of the One for whom she had lived. I’m not sure how all of that works as far as knowing the exact state of her soul and spirit at this moment. I just know she left a hospital room filled with hovering nurses, humming machines, needles and tubes, and sad family for a place of peace and joy. And I would not have her back to the room she left.

Mother was a woman full of wonder. She woke up in a new world every day with eager anticipation to see what the day would bring. Being a marvelous, interesting conversationalist, our sons loved to spend time with her as they knew she was vitally interested in every facet of their lives, and they would also learn from her. Laughter was always a part of their repartee. She regaled us with the many stories of her early life. She and my dad enjoyed 64 years of the best marriage I have even known. In their lives they survived the Great Depression and Daddy’s deployment in the Pacific during WWII. Yet never did I hear a complaint about hardships in all their years together, as they faced each challenge with an optimistic outlook. I have learned that this is a priceless legacy to leave one’s children.   

At 89 Mother’s mind was as sharp as that of anyone in the hospital where she last lay. She was cognizant of everything around her until the end, just as we would have expected. Her last words were those of love. Always the lady, she maintained her dignity in her very last hours.

For most of us, the death of our mother is a rite of passage. I’ve learned that time does not really heal that hole in our heart. It does soften the raw edges, but the hole remains. She was the one who loved me first, and longest. There is no replacement. But glory to God for the beautiful family reunion He has planned, to which we look forward with expectant hope.     

Ahhh....Fall has arrived!

It's been longer coming than usual, but I have finally deemed today my Favorite Day of the Year. There have been a few prior contenders, but none quite met the standard. As I stepped outside most of the required elements were in place ~ the nip in the air, dark leafy oak branches splayed against the sapphire sky, and crystal clear visibility. But it took a few moments to feel the light, cool breeze come sashaying through the big back porch to seal the deal. It was sweet relief ~ an annual testimony to our benevolent Father's Creation set in motion as recorded in Genesis 1.    

Remembering.....July 4

 

It's July 4, 2013 and I can't let the day pass without recognizing a handful of events that have impacted my life ~ in no significant order. My dear godly, compassionate, loyal, patient friend, Jo Anne Bridges celebrates a milestone birthday today. She is my confidante, and she is my fellow grammarian without whom I might be at a loss for words. (Imagine that!) May she be blessed with many more birthdays as she blesses others in myriad ways.

 

Thankfully, we are bombarded with good wishes and messages of celebration of the official birthday of our country. It never fails to warm my heart, revive my spirit, rekindle hope and bring to memory supreme sacrifices as folks across the nation spill out evidence of patriotism and gratitude for the freedom we often seem to take for granted. May God forgive us when apathy steals our fervor; and may He patiently continue to bless America! 

 

Another reason for celebration in the McMackin family is that of my dad's cheating death after an enemy bomb shot his plane down in the Pacific Ocean during World War II on July 4, 1944. Although he never used the term "miracle" it was obvious that some amazing things came together that day that led to his survival. We always spoke of that event on Independence Day.

 

The last event on which to reflect on this date is the death of my dear, dear brother, Richard. He passed prematurely from this life on July 4, 2007 after a brief illness. Strangely, I often think of the day he was born. I was in the first grade and I have a strong visual image of Daddy coming to get me after school and telling me that I had a new baby brother. I loved him so, as did everyone who knew him. He was dependable, hard-working, generous and a somewhat private man of few words. But when he spoke one listened. He was hilariously funny, and would have haunted us if we had planned a somber funeral for him. That day of celebration of his life the church was filled with friends who shared special connections with him. He was passionate about donating his remains to UA Medical School for research ~ just one example of his exceptionally unselfish nature. I don't think I've ever known a more humble man, and I will always have a bruise in my heart for this loss.

 

An emotional day this is. As I've composed this I've run the gamut of feelings, ending with tears for Richard ~ but sprinkled with pride in freedom in America, joy in my friend's birthday, wonder at my dad's survival, and gratitude and glory to God for all.  

VALENTINE DAYS

It’s the morning of February 11, 2013 and I walk into the kitchen and there on the bare table lies a single tiny baby aspirin. So small in size, but huge in symbolism.  I am immediately struck once again by my husband’s love and concern. He knows that I am prone to forget this bit of daily medication, and he want to be certain that I get it. And I do get it ~ and so much more. As insignificant as it may seem, I know it represents his deep commitment to my well-being. And my heart is stirred with warm thoughts of him.

Valentine’s Day is approaching, and he has quizzed me about what gift I would like. (A couple of years ago it was a state-of-the art toilet for my bathroom ~ and he got it for me, much to the chagrin of some friends.) I am way past the stage of being wooed by bling. Don’t need candy, flowers that fade, and the moon is meaningless. So there is no list for him. But the aspirin……the aspirin represents the ongoing gifts he gives from his heart continually. And there are so many of them. Always opening my car door for me, even after 42 years of marriage. Unloading the dishwasher almost every time. (I load it.) Watering our ceiling high corn plant. Making a game of folding his underwear before I can get to it. Eagerly going to Wal-Mart for groceries, or whatever, whenever we are out of something. (A slight ulterior motive is to see his former workmates who pet him.) And a thousand little things.   

Buzz never fails to give me a seriously loving card for every occasion. He is not an articulate man by the world’s standards. But he has a gift for finding the perfect card to express his feelings. I learned from a friend to interpret these offerings as his love letters to me. And they are just as treasured as if he had composed them himself.

Like all marriages, ours is not perfect. But we have weathered the storms together. We worked at hard jobs, reared the children, paid the bills, buried our parents and siblings, and held on tight to each other, and to God. And I am eternally thankful for the man in my life who’s heart is my valentine every day of the year.

Funny what emotions a tiny aspirin can evoke……    

The Giving Thanks Season

Isn’t it wonderful that our country’s leaders had the heart in 1863 to set aside a special day each year to simply give thanks for our blessings? It reflected their recognition and appreciation of the magnitude of God’s goodness beginning even in 1621 when the Pilgrims celebrated the bounty of harvest during the earliest days of the English settlement. Compared to today’s levels of production of food and other consumable goods, their bounty was meager indeed.  Yet, indications are that those settlers praised God fervently for sustenance through those hard early days.

One of the things for which I am most thankful is family traditions which endure through the years, binding the new generations to the old. My earliest memories of Thanksgiving as a child centered around traveling to West Tennessee to my great-aunt and uncle’s house to gather around their beautiful old table laden with the traditional  turkey and trimmings.  By the time I married, Aunt Blanche and Uncle Elmer were too old to host us all; so my new sister-in-law and I cooked our first Thanksgiving dinner for our spouses, my siblings and my parents in the little apartment where Buzz and I lived. I still remember many phone calls to Mother for recipe clarification.  It was a primitive effort, but everyone was gracious and I don’t remember any complaints.

That initial effort was the beginning of a sometimes-annual event in our lives. Soon I inherited the old dining suite from Tennessee and made the tradition an annual one. Many years later when Mother died, I asked for her dining table, as it is larger, and passed the antique one on to a niece. It is my hope that someday it will be filled with happy family members and memories once again.

It seems the norm for the youngest generation to have to sit at the kid’s table on that grand feast day. Commonly, there are grumbles from some of the young ones wishing they could be at the adult table. I would tell them that their day would come, and they would get their wish. But at the same time, it would mean that a place had been vacated by the infirmity or death of an older loved one. In our family, the day has come. This year everyone who could come got to sit at the big table, but gone were precious grandparents and aunts and uncles. All agreed that the rite of passage was bittersweet.

In 2010 we had to break with tradition. Our family had planned to be away from home on Thanksgiving. I offered to shift the feast to July, and all quickly agreed. We had Thanksgiving in July and the conviviality was just as strong. Some even suggested we do the meal twice a year, but the cook quickly demurred.

Our menu never changes. I have tried that once or twice, with polite outcries from the hungry hoard. Desserts are the only items subject to change. We always begin the meal by going around the table and expressing the things for which we are thankful during the past year. (We are thankful that a new grandson will be arriving in March!) I have learned from my family in this way. This year, I asked everyone to also tell something for which they hope to be thankful next year. This is one of those marvelous times during which I get a glimpse into the hearts of the men in my family.

Possibly this will be the last time we will gather in the Woodmont dining room. Mother’s table may well have another house in which to rest next year. But in the whole scope of things it won’t matter. What will matter are the faces of those precious loved ones who gather together, clasping hands and hearts, to give thanks and ask the Lord’s blessings for another bountiful year.    

More Connections….

Friendship is such a curious mixture of chemistry and propinquity, of the almost scarily fortuitous quality in kindred souls occasionally being lucky enough to find each other.

 

In my ongoing sifting, sorting, stacking and storing I ran across the above quote a dear friend had shared with me which described our friendship. I was resigned to having lost it forever, and the friend has passed away. None of my research efforts were successful. I was overjoyed to run across it today buried in one of the numerous boxes in the back of the closet. It's finding such treasures unexpectedly along the way that motivates me to finish this exhausting task. Neither of us could find the author at the time, but we knew it depicted the beginning of our relationship perfectly.

 

In truth, that curious mixture of properties occurs often in my life, and I hope it does in yours. Occurs, in the plural, reflects the delightful blessings of new friends finding each other even in advancing years. Do you ever find yourself wanting to say to a freshly found kindred soul, "Where have you been all my life? Let's not waste time!"? And Facebook has facilitated the renewal of relationships I was too immature to value as highly as I ought many years ago. Aren’t second chances priceless! I’m thinking of Ro, and Ron, and Ray ~ and many others (whose names don’t begin with “R”). We find the kind of person with whom we feel safe in sharing vulnerabilities, and the seeds of deep friendship take root quickly. Our lives grow even richer. Because I do believe that luck is a false god, I consider the cosmic collision more one of a heavenly blessing designed specifically for me by the lover of my soul. Thank you, Lord, for precious friends.

It’s All Connected

(or How a Blog Got Its Name)

About five years ago I began treatment from an acupuncturist. At the end of our first session I felt better in several respects, but mentioned that I wanted him to work particularly on my knee pain. He then took one of the tiny needles and inserted it into my breast. The pain in my knee was gone, temporarily. In amazement I asked him how he did that. In his Chinese accent, he replied, “Pat, it is all connected.” I was reminded of that several times subsequently as treatment continued.

Perhaps because I heard these words so often from Dr. Ly, and because they wormed their way into my psyche, I began to notice how much of life is all connected ~ just as he said. Remember the old game of Six Degrees of Kevin Bacon? It was based on the “six degrees of separation” premise that most of us are only six relationships away from any other one of us on Earth. Supposedly I know a person, who knows another person, who knows another person…..and within six relationships I could connect to actor Kevin Bacon, who apparently was selected arbitrarily as the target of the connectedness. It’s an interesting concept, and the game was popular for years.

Hasn’t being connected taken giant steps with the escalating technology of today? I recently observed workers leaving a large medical building at closing time. Almost every person was connecting with someone on a cell phone as they walked to their car. Is this type of connecting reaching epidemic proportions?

Not only are human relationships connected, but there are countless connections in nature, and every aspect of life. Scientists are discovering new ones continually.  

Being connected in unusual ways is fascinating for some of us. Not long after joining Facebook, a new young fb friend in my Sunday morning class asked me how I knew a longtime friend fb friend who lived hours away on the Gulf coast. Turns out the young woman was a student of the older friend in elementary school in Michigan many years ago. We were amazed and excited to know that we shared friendship with Sandra in common. Because of Facebook many such connections have come to light. And what fun it is to learn of them!

In our Wednesday night class, we share stories of God’s obvious and amazing power working in our lives. So often we have been astonished at the ways He has connected seemingly unrelated factors to bring about stunning results. It has happened so often now, that we find ourselves shrugging, smiling, and saying, “It’s all connected!” It’s an unofficial motto for the class.

For many years I have known that life is all about relationships. Jesus said it long before I did. The number one relationship is ours with Him. And the second is our relationship with our fellow-man. These relationships are so vital that Christ named them Commandments One and Two. Nothing in all of a spiritual life is more important.  

If you are reading this humble attempt to blog, you and I have a relationship. And I dearly love connecting with you. We may not see each other often ~ or even ever ~ but we are connected in some manner. And, for me, our connection is a passion. I know you have something to offer that will enrich my life, and I trust that I can bring something to the relationship that will benefit you. I wish each reader knew all of my wonderful friends, and that I knew yours. Who knows? Maybe we do, and just haven’t figured it out yet. After all ~ it IS all connected!