Ending with goodbyes

As 2020 draws to a close tonight, I look back at a year blessed with a new appreciation for my time. It's truly been a blessing to have so much removed from the calendar this year. And these last few weeks have been a time of many goodbyes. While the media and social media has been abuzz the last two days of all this world has lost this year, I couldn't help but reflect and how little of an impact those people had on my life (most of them I had never heard of) and how tremendously others influenced my life and yet will never be mentioned outside of their family and friends circles.

Phyllis Gilland (back row on the left). Growing up I knew her as Angela, Tina and Sharon's Mom. She had the soft, southern drawl with a voice that could be both loud and pleasant at the same time. I seldom saw here without a smile. Even when it was the worst of summer with Alabama's heat at its worse, she would climb off the lawn mower, come speak, and apologize for not looking her best. She lived her faith and preached as  much through her actions as she did her words. We lost her to Covid in June.

Angela Gilland Edwards (center front). Slightly older than my older sister, Angela was loud and fun, and yet so good and calm with children. There's a picture of all the great-grandchildren and grandchildren with my grandparents one get-together, and Angela is down front with my littler sister (who was Sharon's age) instead of with the big kids in the back. What that picture doesn't tell is that for some reason my little sister was crying and didn't want to join the group. She agreed to sit by Angela. She was an incredible cook, had an amazing singing voice, and had many struggles and the last two years of her life had faced some very difficult hardships. Angela died in a car wreck in October, on her way to sign papers for her new house.

Pansy Murray - John Murray was the Christian Service Director at the Bible College I attended,(all students were required to perform 30  minutes to 2 hrs of community service each week) and it was not uncommon to see his wife Pansy in the office. Like my cousin Phyllis, she always seemed to sport a smile and had a quiet way about her. Former missionaries to France, they continued to live out their faith in Nashville. After she died of covid in October, Mr. Murray posted this in her obituary: “I have been privileged with a wonderful wife who has followed me in the ministry of the Word of God. Pansy has been a constant encouragement and a source of strength as God has led us around the world. She was one of the most sacrificial and giving people I have ever met. You do not walk together for as long as we have been together without missing your soulmate. Pansy has certainly been that—a worthy helpmate and partner. Thank you to all who have been incredibly supportive and have provided so much for us during this difficult journey.”
I don't think you can earn much higher praise.

Leroy Forlines, my theology teacher at Free Will Baptist Bible College (now Welch College), died right before Christmas from cancer.  He lived out the reality that humility does not equal weakness, that honesty matters, people are important and it is our job as Christians to help the hurting, and that clean fun is possible. So many stories I could tell here. He impacted the lives of so many. He died of cancer within a few weeks of his diagnosis, right before Christmas.

Mrs. Thigpen was called out of retirement my sophomore year of college when a professor abruptly quit one month into the semester. She became my Interpretive Speech teacher, and I learned SO much under her teaching. And yes, I learned more than just speech lessons. That was a very difficult year for me, both physically and emotionally, and I didn't appreciate everything I learned under her until years later. She died of Covid this week, and her husband (who I only knew from a distance and by reputation) died today from the same disease. Classmates who were ahead of me (they retired as President of the college the year before I started) commented that it was fitting they both entered heaven the same week as they were truly a team. A truly sweet soul.

Rev. Dennis  Haygood - An Alabama FWB pastor, I more knew his name from attending meetings and association meetings with Dad, but I attended college with his daughter Lisa. This family has been through so much the last few years and we were all heartbroken to learn he was in the hospital with Covid while the rest of his family was sick at home. Lisa posted yesterday that after a month of suffering in the hospital, he was with Jesus. Not the outcome we had prayed for, but he has received the ultimate healing.

I pray that when my time on earth is over, that my life will have made as much an impact on others as they had on me. May I reflect Jesus as much as they did.

Aunt Pat's fudge

Growing up, my Aunt Pat always brought two things to Thanksgiving and Christmas meals: a ham and 2 things of fudge - one with nuts and one without. I'm sure she brought other things as well, but those two things were on my favorites list so those stand out in my mind. Her death my second year in China left me reeling. I've made half-hearted attempts at fudge over the years using various recipes, some semi-successful, some abysmal failures. Years ago I mentioned to Mom how much I missed her fudge at the holidays, and she informed that Aunt Pat's recipe was the one on the back of the marshmallow creme jar.

So tonight I tried it. It set. I don't remember it being this sweet, but it is good. 

I'm sure I will eat way more of it than I should, but more than anything I am thankful for the impact she had on my life. For sharing a children's book on the trinity when I had questions, for the memories of her smile, her hugs, the words of affirmation and encouragement, for teaching me that gifts were about the person receiving them, that servanthood was a privilege and an act of love.  And as I enjoy every bite, I'll pray for my cousins who miss her way more than I do and feel her absence keenly. 

Holidays are good, but they can also be hard.

Deflated

 Years ago a groupd of  ladies signed up to decorate tables for a Christmas party.  I took my Christmas dishes and bought a small cactus to use as the centerpiece. That was almost 20 years ago. I can't tell you the number of people, including my Mom, who have accused me of putting a plastic plant in a pretty pot. I've repotted it once but lately its growth seemed to stop. Last week it began turning black. I pruned it a little and it started to regain some greenness. Last night I gently touched it as I went by, and it DEFLATED. I kid you not. It was. O longer solid but liquid inside and it oozed out its inwards and fell over.

According to the internet, I over watered it. Oh well. We had a nice 10+ year enjoyment of it. Now to figure out what should go in its place.

Still at war

 

Every day this week I have spent about 2 hours digging out muck (straw, pinecones, mud and sticks) that the beavers have stuffed/wrapped/wedged/piled in and around the pond drain. The debris field I've dug out are the two piles in the pic. The drain is the small pile in the water. The light dirt color around  the drain is the mound/fortress the beavers have built in attempts of keeping the pond water from the drain.

I know that if I miss one day, then the work will pile up for me again. But so far this week I've managed to get a little ahead of them. The pond is down 4 inches, and if I can get it down 2 more tomorrow there might be small hope we can put a type of cover around the drain that will prevent them from stopping it up. Maybe. Then there will be the mess they make in other places to contend with. I am seriously contemplating hiring a trapper to deal with them. My few attempts at taking them out have not been successful. 

Rain, especially at night, like our forecast tomorrow calls for, is not my ally. Beavers work at night, so they will once again gain the upper hand if we can't get a cover on tomorrow. I did find a store that sells the water pants so I can go out and dig up the fortress tomorrow if we get the water level down. I fear that time and muscles are not on my side. I really don't want to spend money on a trapper, but we're running out of options. 

I no longer think beavers are fascinating.