It's my earliest memory and I remember it like it was yesterday. I was standing in the “sitting” room near our white crushed velvet couch - the one with matching crushed velvet pillows - in gold (really). The sitting room was my favorite room in our home because it was filled with beautiful things – the crushed velvet couch, Mom’s piano upon which sat a green glass candy dish – the top cut at interesting angles, and a long, low, glass-topped table covered with potted ivy and many pots of African Violets. I remember well how Momma loved those violets, and how she was mildly disgusted at her inability to keep them alive. Everyone was being still and quiet, all eyes were on me, and I was singing Delta Dawn with cues from my sweet Daddy while Mom recorded us on a large reel-to-reel audio recorder. My older sisters, Emmy and Lydia, were in the room. I’m almost positive one of those pretty girls had on plaid pants and I’m sure each member of the family had on at least one item made from 100% polyester. Yes, we embraced the 1970's with the same enthusiasm that we embraced each other, my family and I.
Thank you, Lord, for this memory. So crisp. So clear. Filled with the people I first loved and who first loved me. The depth of gratitude I feel to God for this seared in my brain and on my heart memory moves me to tears and even bended knee – thankful, so incredibly thankful.
We didn't, but families often fight after the death of a parent.
They fight over…
…money.
…property.
…family photos.
…clothing.
…things.
Which of these brings back the deceased parent? Not one. There is not one thing that will ever bring them back. Oh, I understand the comfort of having a memento. I got a shirt of Daddy’s. I got a special coffee mug of his, some coins collected overseas during his military career, several photos and such. Nothing of monetary value. Nothing even of particular sentimental value. (Daddy’s memory is so much more valuable than simple sentimentality.) I enjoy the things I have, sure. I’d trade them in an instant for just one more day with Dad. One more hour. One more minute.
That however, is not possible. I learned so much through the death of my Father, and I am thankful to God for the lesson: Hang on to what’s important – the moments with your loved ones while they’re alive – the loving of them, laughing with them, crying with them, moving through this life with them while they are here. Don’t stress over their money, property, the things. Just love them and cherish them and find ways to create memories with them. What brings me more peace than any of his things ever could, are my many memories of a good Dad who we knew – and took for granted even – loved us. Daddy was a wonderful man. I miss him always, but especially so on today – what would have been his 72nd birthday.
Happy Birthday Daddy! I miss you so! Mom’s doing well, but she eats more sugar than she should – can you mention this to the Big Guy for me please? Emmy, Lydia and I are all doing just fine – happy even! Your granddaughters – aw, Daddy, you’d be so proud of them! And you’ve got the most beautiful great-grandchildren – you just wouldn’t believe! There’s even a boy Daddy! A BOY. I hope he grows up to be a lot like you. I’m remembering you Dad, everyday and especially today. And listen, I’m playing our song – this one’s for you…
https://youtu.be/sO09q5LRmGo
Wednesday, August 3, 2011
Thursday, July 21, 2011
Time Keeps Slippin' Into The Future
It is strange to me, the unlikely and mundane times that something strikes me and gives me pause. For some it's a beautiful sunset. Or crashing waves. Or the birth of a child. The death of a loved one. Milestone occasions like graduations, birthdays, weddings. Most of these give me pause - and I understand why.
But this morning, passing by my daughters bedroom, seeing her hair stick out of the top of her covers, legs out the opposite end - her on the bed at an angle - feet dangling in spite of nocturnal efforts to fit all that length onto one mattress, this morning I was struck unawares and overwhelmed with a sense of pause.
That lanky, sleeping thing - that's my baby girl. I stop. I look - take her in. What am I seeing? I'm seeing the 15 year old version of the baby I grew in my womb - in the core of my self - she is growing into herself. I can't physically carry her anymore. She stopped needing carrying long ago. But sometimes I still get to hold her. Just sometimes - when we are watching a movie or reading a book. She'll forget she's a teenager and allow herself to remember that no matter how old we are there's nothing like our Mother's loving touch - those times I still get to hold her. How is it that even as she grows to heights that tower over me, she still needs me?
Kind of.
I feel a catch in my throat. That catch - it's the physical manifestation of an emotional and intellectual realization. A realization that she doesn't need me as much as she used too, as much as I need her too. As much as I need her.
One of our biggest "issues" is that she does not move physically as fast as I do. Seems I'm always ready to go while she's still getting ready. It makes me crazy. I make her crazy. She often hears the following, in full, or in part:
"Can you move a little faster? Please!"
"What is taking you so long?"
"Ok, I'm walking out the door now."
"Hurry up already!"
15 years ago, it was impossible to grasp just how much Time was going to "Hurry up already!" Impossible to grasp that the quick passage of time would find me one morning, standing in the hallway holding back tears and longing for life to slow down, longing for some of those years back, wishing I'd been wise enough in her early years to not wish away the diapering, the shoe tieing, the chopping food into little bits, the hair washing, bathing, hand-holding to cross the parking lot, 'read this to me one more time Mommy' mundaneness of it all. What I would give now to have even one day of it back!
Oh, when I think of all the time I spent rushing, hurrying myself and my daughter along to the next thing. It brings a certain heaviness to my heart.
Recently when I was rushing her she said "You know, you're my Mom. You're supposed to wait for me." Isn't it ironic then, that while physically she moves slower than me the natural course of life is causing her to grow into a wonderful young woman. My baby. Turning into a lady right before my very eyes. I don't feel ready yet. I want to yell at Time "SLOW DOWN! WAIT! YOU'RE GOING TOO FAST!"
15 years I've waited for her - I hope she'll take note and be patient now that she's the one waiting for me.
Thinking on this all today as I have been, reminded me of this song (it's one of our favorites):
http://youtu.be/BacASx2dFlg
But this morning, passing by my daughters bedroom, seeing her hair stick out of the top of her covers, legs out the opposite end - her on the bed at an angle - feet dangling in spite of nocturnal efforts to fit all that length onto one mattress, this morning I was struck unawares and overwhelmed with a sense of pause.
That lanky, sleeping thing - that's my baby girl. I stop. I look - take her in. What am I seeing? I'm seeing the 15 year old version of the baby I grew in my womb - in the core of my self - she is growing into herself. I can't physically carry her anymore. She stopped needing carrying long ago. But sometimes I still get to hold her. Just sometimes - when we are watching a movie or reading a book. She'll forget she's a teenager and allow herself to remember that no matter how old we are there's nothing like our Mother's loving touch - those times I still get to hold her. How is it that even as she grows to heights that tower over me, she still needs me?
Kind of.
I feel a catch in my throat. That catch - it's the physical manifestation of an emotional and intellectual realization. A realization that she doesn't need me as much as she used too, as much as I need her too. As much as I need her.
One of our biggest "issues" is that she does not move physically as fast as I do. Seems I'm always ready to go while she's still getting ready. It makes me crazy. I make her crazy. She often hears the following, in full, or in part:
"Can you move a little faster? Please!"
"What is taking you so long?"
"Ok, I'm walking out the door now."
"Hurry up already!"
15 years ago, it was impossible to grasp just how much Time was going to "Hurry up already!" Impossible to grasp that the quick passage of time would find me one morning, standing in the hallway holding back tears and longing for life to slow down, longing for some of those years back, wishing I'd been wise enough in her early years to not wish away the diapering, the shoe tieing, the chopping food into little bits, the hair washing, bathing, hand-holding to cross the parking lot, 'read this to me one more time Mommy' mundaneness of it all. What I would give now to have even one day of it back!
Oh, when I think of all the time I spent rushing, hurrying myself and my daughter along to the next thing. It brings a certain heaviness to my heart.
Recently when I was rushing her she said "You know, you're my Mom. You're supposed to wait for me." Isn't it ironic then, that while physically she moves slower than me the natural course of life is causing her to grow into a wonderful young woman. My baby. Turning into a lady right before my very eyes. I don't feel ready yet. I want to yell at Time "SLOW DOWN! WAIT! YOU'RE GOING TOO FAST!"
15 years I've waited for her - I hope she'll take note and be patient now that she's the one waiting for me.
Thinking on this all today as I have been, reminded me of this song (it's one of our favorites):
http://youtu.be/BacASx2dFlg
Wednesday, May 18, 2011
Asking for Grace at Not Quite 40
Ok, so for those not up to speed:
Last month I applied to college. Specifically I applied to enter the Access Program for Adults at Atlanta Christian University. The Access Program allows working adults to obtain an Associates Degree in just 18 months, and some Bachelors Degrees in as few as 24 months.
I was pretty much scared to death to actually apply. The last time I was in college it was 1990, I was more interested in having a good time than persuing higher education, and as the baby in my family I was in many ways ridiculously immature. I didn't leave college of my own volition. No, I was asked to leave. Placed on academic suspension. Sent home with my head hung in humiliation to face the disgusted disappointment of my parents and the "Awww, that's too bad" looks and head shakes from friends.
I spoke about flunking out of college with my friend Adam, who is usually wise and full of excellent advice. I told him that I didn't want to include my two short semesters at Tarleton State University on this entrance application. He said I should go ahead an include it. He'd worked in college admissions years ago and assured me that they wouldn't even include that transcript in their consideration, it wouldn't even matter.
Guess what folks? It mattered.
ACC cannot just approve my application. Because of my low GPA from Tarleton, 21 YEARS AGO, I have to write a "Grace Letter" to the Admission Committee. And so I have. But I haven't sent it in yet. I wanted you to take a look at it and let me know your thoughts. I refuse to grovel. I know where real grace comes from - the Lord - and He has given me more than my fair share (as is His usual way.) At the same time, I have to do what I have to do. I want this for myself. I need this for myself. Even I deserve a second chance, don't I? So, here's the letter below. Feel free to offer your opinions and suggestions. It is overly wordy in many sentences and I spell out numbers, that's because the letter has to be between 500-750 words.
Last month I applied to college. Specifically I applied to enter the Access Program for Adults at Atlanta Christian University. The Access Program allows working adults to obtain an Associates Degree in just 18 months, and some Bachelors Degrees in as few as 24 months.
I was pretty much scared to death to actually apply. The last time I was in college it was 1990, I was more interested in having a good time than persuing higher education, and as the baby in my family I was in many ways ridiculously immature. I didn't leave college of my own volition. No, I was asked to leave. Placed on academic suspension. Sent home with my head hung in humiliation to face the disgusted disappointment of my parents and the "Awww, that's too bad" looks and head shakes from friends.
I spoke about flunking out of college with my friend Adam, who is usually wise and full of excellent advice. I told him that I didn't want to include my two short semesters at Tarleton State University on this entrance application. He said I should go ahead an include it. He'd worked in college admissions years ago and assured me that they wouldn't even include that transcript in their consideration, it wouldn't even matter.
Guess what folks? It mattered.
ACC cannot just approve my application. Because of my low GPA from Tarleton, 21 YEARS AGO, I have to write a "Grace Letter" to the Admission Committee. And so I have. But I haven't sent it in yet. I wanted you to take a look at it and let me know your thoughts. I refuse to grovel. I know where real grace comes from - the Lord - and He has given me more than my fair share (as is His usual way.) At the same time, I have to do what I have to do. I want this for myself. I need this for myself. Even I deserve a second chance, don't I? So, here's the letter below. Feel free to offer your opinions and suggestions. It is overly wordy in many sentences and I spell out numbers, that's because the letter has to be between 500-750 words.
Dear Atlanta Christian College Admission Committee,This video featuring "You are More" by 10th Avenue North sums it up about right: http://youtu.be/IwtcwQwgdsA
The purpose of this letter is to seek your grace in accepting me into your program. Once a very long time ago as a young adult who was immature for my age and who didn’t feel ready to take on college, I told a lie. I began by telling the truth. I told my parents I didn’t want to go to college immediately after high school because I was not ready. Then I caved when I saw my mother cry. I opened my mouth and told her I’d changed my mind and I took on college, with no real intention of applying myself.
That attempt at college was twenty-one years ago. I was eighteen years old, not focused on academics, and had no grasp at that time of “the future” and what bearing my actions (or non-actions) would have on it. From the age of 18 until about 22, I lived in the moment and for the moment. To be frank, I drank heavily, dabbled lightly in smoking marijuana, and slept through most of my classes. It’s not a time in my life that I am proud of. I did not maintain my grades, my GPA was too low, and I was placed on academic suspension. Flunking out of college was and still remains a deep personal failure for me as well as a huge disappointment to my family and friends.
To say it took every ounce of courage I possess and a whole lot of cheering on by friends just to go on-line and fill out the application to the Atlanta Christian College Access Program for adults would be putting it mildly. It was one of the hardest things I’ve ever done – and I’ve done some seriously hard things. Everyone assured me that a low grade point average twenty years ago wouldn’t matter in the least. Yet here I find myself with my past failure rearing its ugly head. Mattering.
Although it was disheartening to receive, I took the news that I’d have to submit a Grace letter as possibly being God’s way of letting me know that undertaking this endeavor of obtaining (finally) that elusive college degree is going to be a lot harder than clicking submit and showing up for classes. It’s going to be a lot harder than telling people “I just applied to college!” and having them light up and say things like “Way to go girl! I’m so proud of you! You can do it!”
Twenty-one years ago the phone call from Earl informing me that my old GPA was too low for acceptance at college would have been the thing that stopped me dead in my tracks. That phone call would have been the thing that allowed me to convince myself it’s not worth it, that I’m not capable, and that I should just give up. Twenty-one years ago I would have been too afraid of my own weaknesses versus the strength of a college institution to keep on trying. Twenty-one years ago I would have given up. But today, I am not who I was.
Today I am a woman who survived and left a physically abusive marriage. Today I am a woman who for fifteen years, all fifteen years of my daughter’s young life, has been a single-mom. Today I am a woman who has twenty years of full-time work experience under her belt, which you can peruse on the attached resume’.
It was disheartening to receive that phone call from Earl – so much so that it made my tender-hearted daughter cry to see my face when I told her I didn’t just “get in”. However today I am a new creation by God’s grace and am seeking your grace also. My belief is that God has called me to His work and I am asking you to grant me one more shot at college. There is much I believe I will learn from your school. Additionally, it will be a testimony of God’s power in my life. The life experiences I’ve had over the course of the past two decades (which I am happy to discuss in a meeting with you), being transformed and sustained by my faith in Jesus (which by His strength is how these examples came to be), give me strong reason to believe that I am now prepared to successfully navigate the challenges I will encounter in an accelerated academic program. My hope and prayer is that you’ll agree.
Sincerely,
Melissa M. Martin
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