Bah, Humbug!

Everywhere I look, it is getting harder to fool myself: Christmas is coming, Christmas is coming!  But my heart wonders if it will really feel like Christmas this year.

Think of all of the characters that hate Christmas (i.e. The Grinch, Ebeneezer Scrooge).  All of those characters rolled up in one big ball would just begin to describe the EXACT OPPOSITE of my Mema.  So many of my Christmas memories revolve around her.  She always made it special.

When I was a child, Mema worked as the activities director at Oakdale Manor Nursing Home.  I remember going up to the nursing home to help Mema decorate.  As long as she worked there, the residents enjoyed elaborately decorated trees in the dining rooms and lobby areas, each with its own theme.  She also made sure there were lights and Christmas scenes outside.  There was also a Christmas party for the residents, complete with a live performance from the Glenwood Trio.  Oh, and me too.  I would sing for the residents, and it was a highlight of the season for me. 


Mema's own home was always decorated to the hilt.  Complete with tree, fireplace decorations, special placemats, and outdoor lights.  We all gathered at her house for a Christmas Eve celebration.  Everyone tried to be there on Christmas Eve, even if we had to spend Christmas Day somewhere else.  For the past several years, we all would bring a "Mens" or "Ladies" gift, and Mema made us play the "Right Family Game."  Basically, she would read us this story and every time she said "right" we passed the gifts to the right, "left" to the left.  We all rolled our eyes all the way through it, but it was fun.

Oh, and let's not for get about the Church!  She loved to have the church decorated and to have some kind of special Christmas service.  As us kiddos got older, she always gave us an opportunity to think of something creative to do.  Someone would write a play, or a skit, and we'd all make fools of ourselves.


 

And the Carols!  Oh, the Carols! She loved to go caroling.  Whether in the neighborhood or to a retirement center, she loved to go sing the Carols!

And now, she's gone.  I'm happy for her.  She's in the best place to celebrate Jesus' birthday.  But I am having waves of bittersweet emotions.  Last Saturday, Mom, Emily and I went and decorated Mema's tree.  Ok, it's Papa's tree too, but will forever in my mind be hers.  I could hear her voice telling me to turn the light on in the dark living room so I could see.  I cried the whole time.  

Christmas 2010

As hard as it's going to be to celebrate this season with out her, I'll do my best.  I'll put away my "bah, humbug" attitude.  It's what she would want.  This weekend at church is our special Christmas service. We'll sing the carols.  The kids will act out the Christmas story. Emily is playing her flute.  We'll make new memories, but keep the old....one is silver and the other's gold.   Merry Christmas, Mema!!

Blessed are those who mourn....

Blessed are those who mourn, for they will be comforted.  Matthew 5:4 NIV

I have to admit, I've read this verse over and over as part of the Beatitudes, and never really gave it much thought.  Yeah, yeah, the poor are blessed, the meek are blessed, the hungry and thirsty are blessed.  But it sure is kind of hard to see the blessing when you are in the middle of being hungry or mourning the loss of  a loved one.  Where is the blessing in loosing someone who was one of the single most important people in your world?

Mema's been gone almost six months.  Sometimes I miss her so much it hurts.  I see a woman walking through Walmart, and for half a second out of the corner of my eye....  No, not her.  Something wonderful or tragic happens and I pick up the phone to call...  Oh, yeah.  Nevermind.  Where's the blessing?

Then I think about that day in the hospital when we knew it was the end.  I called my friend, Marsha and she hopped out of bed early that Saturday morning and sped to the hospital with a bag of diet sodas and a box of Puffs.  (Really, she sped.  The police officer took pitty on her when he saw her genuine tears.)  Then, there's my friend Molly who showed up early that afternoon with a tray of fruit, some chocolate, another box of tissues, and those little whispy toothbrush things.  There's my friends Jennifer and Kellie who took such good care of my daughter while emotions were running high and I just needed to be "Granddaugher" and save "Mommy" for another day.  The hospital staff.  Our family members.  Our pastors and church family.  They all gathered as we awaited her homegoing.  And I was comforted.  I was blessed. 

In the days and weeks that followed, I kept thinking back on that time in the ICU waiting room, and on all of the cards, flowers, donations to Susan G. Komen, and hugs that followed.  Mema was loved and honored, and I was blessed. 

Friday, in the park down the street from our church, a tragedy happened.  A 9 year-old girl was digging a tunnel in the sand.  It caved in on her and she was found, dead.  My heart is heavy for the family of that little girl.  They didn't have any warning.  They didn't get to say goodbye.  They let their precious child go to the park to play and she never came home.  Right now they are mourning.  I sure hope they will someday look back and feel blessed.  I'm not sure how, but the Bible says they will be.  Blessed doesn't mean you get what you want.  It means you get what you need.  Sometimes we look at being blessed as having more than enough.  But in times like these, we must look to God as our portion--for today.  And tomorrow, we have to look to Him as our portion again--for that day.  Day by day, we get what we need, and we are blessed. 

My mother reminded me today of when Mema used to sit on the bench at school and wait for the girls.  Her group of special children grew and grew.  She would sit there and wait on them to get out of school so she could hug them and ask them about their day.  Momma thinks Mema was up in heaven, sitting on the bench, waiting on Hannah.  And she's hugging her, asking her about her day, and showing her all over heaven.  I like the thought of that.  The Bible says that in Heaven, we will be known as we are known here on earth.  I think the children in Heaven will know that my Mema will be their Mema too. 

My 9-11 Memories....

September 11, 2001, I was teaching Pre-K at Chouteau Elementary School in Tulsa, Oklahoma.  I left the class with my teacher's assistant to go to the office for a reason I can no longer remember.  I walked in to a strange sight of the entire office staff glued to the television screen.  I looked up just in time to watch as the second plane hit the tower.  Suddenly, my little corner of the globe seemed like a very scary place. 

I'm not sure the exact order of events that followed.  As with most people, I think I walked around in shock.  But I know that one of the first things I did was call my Mema.  I knew that she would be at home, taking care of my baby girl who was just sixteen months old.  I knew that she probably saw the whole thing unfold, as she always watched "Six in the Morning."  I also knew that just hearing her voice would make me feel a whole lot safer.

I always called Mema.  When something bad happened, when something good happened, when absolutely nothing was happening.  And she always had time to talk to me.  She was the best listener in the world!  My compulsion to call her was only escalated by owning a cell phone.  Suddenly a boring drive down the turnpike could turn into a gab session.  And it was a compulsion to call her.  IS a compulsion to call her.  Even now that she has been gone for three months, I still find myself picking up my phone whenever something great happens, or something bad happens, or.... 

But, she is gone.  I can still ring her number, but everyone knows that Papa isn't really a "phone-a-friend" type.  So, I find myself doing what she always told me I should do anyway:  Talk to God about it.  He and I have been having a lot of discussions about things that are great, things that are horrible, etc.  And you know what, He's a good listener too!  Maybe one day I will be able to listen like that.  Maybe my grandchildren will have that compulsion to call me.  I hope so.

Because that fateful day--I was no where near New York City, but I felt the pain and the fear of our entire nation.  But I knew that the most important treasure--My Emily--was home with Mema, oblivious to it all.  She was safe.  I hung up that phone, took a deep breath, and put on my happy teacher face for my young students--the treasures of other parents.

Psalm 91:1 (NKJV)

He who dwells in the secret place of the Most High shall abide under the shadow of the Almighty.

The Glenwood Trio

After Mema and Papa started Glenwood Full Gospel Church, they had a radio program.  Papa would preach and Mema, my mom, and my aunt Patti would sing.  (Papa is one of those family members that is less musically inclined.)  The radio program came and went, but the church and the Glenwood Trio became lasting standards for years to come.

When I was little, I spent a lot of time traveling around with "The Trio."  We used to joke because people would book "The Trio" and then fifteen people would descend upon them.  The band and those that traveled with us changed a bit over the years, but we NEVER only traveled as a "trio".  Eventually we changed the name to "The Glenwoods" so people wouldn't be so surprised when we unloaded off of the bus.

The trio sang at churches all over Oklahoma, Texas, Kansas, and Missouri.  We went to prisons, nursing homes, outdoor singings, etc.  They made two local recordings and four in Nashville.  Mostly, the songs that were recorded were original songs.  If you'd like to take a listen, Janet Gaulding Arnold has posted them on a Facebook page.

I am posting several pictures of "The Trio" through the years.  This is something that brought Mema so much joy.  The past several years, we haven't been traveling.  But we have a singing at our church every month.  Mema sang with the trio at the singing up until the very end.  Now, when the trio sings, I sing Mema's part.  It makes me feel so close to her--and makes me miss her--all at the same time.

Shirley (drums), Kathy (Guitar), Janet (Bass), Patti (Alto), Helen (Tenor), Sharon (Lead and Piano)--Late 1970's-ish

"Just in Time" Album Cover Photo.  I got to go with them to Nashville for this recording/photo shoot. 

The last album cover--"Rejoice"--circa 1989

Mid-1980's

Janet's van--I was the "co-pilot"

Our upgraded ride--Silver Eagle--Travel first class!!

Tanya Tucker once toured on this bus--with some fiddler guy.

Gotta Keep Singing....

Mema is on the left, holding the song-book.

Pretty much anyone that knew my Mema, or has spent any time with our family, probably knows how much she loved to sing.  According to family stories, she came by this trait honestly.  Grandma Versie taught all her kids to sing, and sing harmony.  Mema then taught all her kids.  The Aerys (and their derivatives) are a very musically talented family.  We have singers, songwriters, musicians of all types.  Of course, we also have the token "can only play the radio" types, but we love them anyway.

Front Row:  Mema, Gene, Wanna

Mema sang in churches and on local radio and television programs.  She was in a singing group with her pastor, Gene Winfrey and his wife Wanna.  Don't ask me who these other people are, because this photo WAY pre-dates me:

Papa was traveling around to different churches ministering, Mema was teaching Sunday School and singing in various places.  But, this was the 1950-60's.  When people in their church circles found out that Mema had been divorced, they were no longer allowed to minister in certain capacities.

But, the gifts and callings of God are without repentance.  And God knew about their past before He called them into the ministry.  So, Mema and Papa left the baptist church and joined the independent Free Full Gospel Fellowship.  It was this experience that drove Papa's decision that Glenwood Full Gospel Church would be non-denominational.  That we would accept anyone and give them an opportunity to work for the Lord. 

As they struck out on their own, first meeting in homes and then later acquiring a little store-front building at 5300 Charles Page Boulevard, the musicians Mema worked with were home-grown.   She started out singing with her brother, Kenneth, and his wife Carolyn.  Later on, she taught my mom and my aunt, Patti to sing harmony, and the Glenwood Trio was born.  More on this to come....

Kenneth, Carolyn and Mema...at the old church building at 

5300 Charles Page Blvd. in Tulsa

Sharon, Patti, Helen--My Mom, Aunt, and Mema--The Glenwood Trio

Baby Sister

Well, Reader, you have already met my Uncle John and my mother, Sharon.  While countless others looked to my Mema as a mother figure, she actually birthed only one more child:  my Aunt Patti.  My mother was four when Patti was born.   Mom and Patti have always been close, but when Patti was born--Mom wanted to run away from home. 

Aparently, when Mema was pregnant with Patti, she was sick all of the time.  She was in labor for twenty-one days, and then Patti was born with bronchitis, and they even thought she might have had diptheria.  I guess when Baby Sister finally got to come home from the hospital, she cried alot.  My mother, four years old, decided to gather up all of the pop bottles she could find.  She packed a bag, loaded the bottles up in her little red wagon, and started pulling it down the street.  Papa was sitting out on the porch, and seeing her, asked her where she was going.  She said she was going to the store.  She was going to sell her bottles and leave town, because the baby cried all the time and made her mommy sick.  Papa just shook his head and said "Can I come too?"  Momma told him he could, so they went to the store, sold the bottles, and spent the money on candy.  Papa told her that babies couldn't eat candy, so Momma decided to come home.  And, that was that. 

Mom and Patti have always been close.  I love the stories I've always heard about Momma locking Patti out of the house so that she couldn't track mud on the floor, and Mom tricking Patti into singing her to sleep at night.  They may pick at each other, but God help the person that tries to pick on one with the other around. 

I think Papa set the tone of their family future that day when he ran away with Momma.  He really listened to her, and gave credance to her feelings.  I think that is so important for children.  As irrational as we may think their feelings and fears are, they are absolutely real to them.  And, trust me, I have known children with more insight than most adults.  Children need to be taught to trust their feelings and given the confidence and opportunity to express themselves.  If they aren't given that chance, they learn that their feelings aren't important.  They stuff things down inside, and it makes them insecure. 

Some people think that children should be seen and not heard.  Hmm...  Then how are they ever supposed to work out their thoughts and learn to communicate them?  No, children should be taught the appropriate time and place to voice themselves. 

When God Answers...

My master's degree diploma arrived in the mail last Friday. 

I decided to go graduate school about the same time that Mema was diagnosed with cancer.  I almost used her illness as an excuse to back out of the whole thing, but she would hear nothing of it.  She wanted me to follow my dreams, and always encouraged me to get all the education I could.  I have to admit, I feel a little guilt over the amount of time I had to spend on school that took away from the time I could have spent with her.  She would get me if she ever heard me admit that, though.  You won't tell, will you?

The only picture I have of Mema at my graduation.  

About a week before my graduation, Mema started feeling bad again.  There was some discussion about whether or not she would even be able to attend.  This upset me, because having her watch me walk across that stage to have that hood draped over my head was one of the only reasons I even decided to go through the ceremony.  I didn't say anything, though, as she and my mother discussed the logistics of getting her there.  I left the room, and when I came back, she called me to the chair where she was sitting.  She told me that when she got sick, she asked the Lord to let her live long enough to see me graduate, and there was no way that she was going to miss it.  So, that was settled.  Arrangements were made to get her there in her wheelchair, and when they hooded me, I was looking right at her.  She had to leave before I could get back to see her, but she was there. 

It was a major ordeal for her to go to my graduation because she was so sick.  As a matter of fact, 18 days later, she had her own "graduation."  But, the Lord had granted her request and she felt she had to do her part to get that answer to prayer.  That is how it is sometimes.  We ask the Lord for something, but there is something we have to do on our side to receive the answer.  If she had stayed home, would that mean that God had let her down?  Nope.

I've been thinking about this in relation to my life right now.  Last spring, I asked the Lord to grant us favor in regard to the school where I work.  I wanted the faculty and students to be able to stay together, whether in our building or in a different one.  He gave us another place to call home.  But, boy, it has been a lot of work to get the place ready.  Everyone that works there, and many of the parents and community members have gone above and beyond the call of duty to make sure our students had a great place to come to school.  We had to do our part.

God isn't like a fairy godmother.  He doesn't wave a magic wand and make things appear for us.  Now, I'm not saying he couldn't, I'm just saying he doesn't work that way.  He moves through people.  He empowers us to be the best we can be.  He helps us to do great things.  So, when you pray for something, and God answers, be sure and listen to what he says!  Be willing to do your part, even when it's hard. 

My Favorite Volunteer

Emily watching as Mema helps with a project in our kindergarten class.  

 

 

 

Tomorrow is the first day of school at Chouteau Elementary.  In the depths of the building, in a room off of the fourth grade classroom, sits Mema's sewing machine.  We gave it to one of Mema's favorite teachers who sews with her kids every year.  Mrs. McBurney's kids make quilts and pillows.  When Emily was in her class, Mema volunteered to help with some of the projects.  But she was always my volunteer first.

Before I became the school's librarian, I taught Pre-K and Kindergarten.  When Sarah was old enough to start school, she was in my half-day Pre-K class.  Every day at lunch time, Mema would bring Emily up to the school and we would all eat lunch in the cafeteria together.  This continued the next year when Sarah and I graduated to full-day Kindergarten and Emily started Pre-K.  Mema would come to pick Emily up and we ate with my whole Kindergarten class.

Finally, both girls were in school all day.  Mema was free to come to the school to help out with projects.  Sometimes she would just come up and bring me lunch.  My favorite part of the day, though, was about fifteen minutes before school was out.  While I was reading to my class and wrapping up the day, Mema would show up in the back of my classroom and start wiping down the tables with Clorox wipes and putting the chairs up on the tables.  If we had been really messy, she would even sweep up around the classroom.  It didn't matter that we had a custodian, she just wanted to make sure the tables were clean and the kids stayed healthy.  She did this for almost three years--without fail--until she got sick. 

After that, I cleaned my own tables and put up  my own chairs.  I'm a big girl, I could do it.  The thing that made me sad was that the kids missed out on her loving presence.  My kindergartners loved her, and many of them called her "Mema".  She got to know many of them, and I know she made a difference in their lives.

So, we start school tomorrow in our new building.  She isn't here to volunteer anymore, but her sewing machine will continue her service to the Chouteau community.  Sew on Mrs. McBurney!!!

Missing My Prayer Partner...

Today was my first day back to work after a very hectic summer break.  We have moved our school into a new building, and I'm not sure anyone really got the rest they should have over the summer.  Nevertheless, I was very happy to be with my Chouteau family.  The first thing many of our staff members did this morning was meet for a voluntary prayer meeting.  We met as a group and then went throughout the new building praying for our students and asking the Lord's blessing over our new school and our new year.  But this wasn't the first time I prayed over a school....

I think Mema was really proud of my decision to become a teacher.  Had she been born into my situation, she probably would have been a teacher herself.  She told me that Grandma Versie once taught in a one-room schoolhouse, so maybe the teacher-gene just runs in the family.  When I got a job at Chouteau, it was a double blessing because it is situated in the area of Tulsa many call the "Sand Springs Line", and this is where Mema grew up, raised her own family, and pastored a church.  When Sarah and Emily started school at Chouteau, Mema really became more involved.  I have many stories about things she did and people she touched as she volunteered at that little school.  There were many times when I would be having a rough time with my class that she and I would stand in my classroom praying for peace, wisdom, strength, and yes, even sometimes patience. 

When talk came of closing Chouteau, Mema was one of our main prayer warriors.  And when news came that we would only close the building, and move the program to the Madison Middle School campus, she was so pleased.  At the hospital, when she was really getting bad, I told her I was going home for the night, and would be back the next day.  She told me I needed to go home and get some rest so I could take care of HER school.  As I walked the hallways praying over each classroom, I couldn't help but feel her with me.  I know she would not only be proud of the hard work and determination, but of the faith and unity of the faculty today. 

Thank you, all of my Chouteau friends, for always making my Mema feel like she was an important part of our team.  And thank you even more for being there for me throughout her illness, and through our loss of her.  You make me smile knowing that I get to work with you again as we set off on this new chapter in our lives.  :)

And then came Sharon....

Helen, Floyd, and Baby Sharon

Now it is time to tell off on my own mother a bit.  When she was little, my mom liked to eat dirt.  When Mema took her to the doctor, she told him about little Sharon's affinity for mud pies, and the doctor told Mema she was keeping her daughter too clean.  Can you imagine a doctor telling you that you keep your kid too clean?  Apparently there was mineral or something in the dirt that mom's body was craving, and so she ate the dirt.  The doctor's prescription:  Let her play in the dirt.  It won't hurt her, and she'll be stronger for it in the long run.  

So what lesson could I have possibly learned from this embarrassing little tale?  Don't worry, I have one.  I guess you can imagine that after Johnny was taken from her, Mema was pretty protective of my mother.  She probably already was a "hoverer" before, but loose one child, it will make you very sensitive to anything that may harm your second one.  But always protecting a child from anything "bad" isn't really protecting them at all.  It doesn't teach them to cope in the real world.  Just like keeping all the dirt and germs away from my mother wasn't letting her body build up antibodies to fight infection.  Because she was kept so clean, she was missing some key elements.  

Floyd, Helen, and Sharon

Don't get me wrong, Mema stayed protective.  She just learned to give her children (and grandchildren) room to grow.  She gave us boundaries and let us learn to make our own choices, and yes even mistakes, within those boundaries.  I think this made us stronger.  And it is how I know that we can go on without her now that she's gone.  She empowered us with all of the life lessons we need, and she gave us practice in using them.  That is what a good mother does! 

It was this philosophy that I adopted when it was time to enroll my own daughter in school.  Part of me wanted to find a nice, safe, private Christian school for her.  The other part of me knew that she needed to go to public school.  She needed to learn to function in a diverse world and still be able to make the right choices--what the Bible calls being "in the world, and not of the world."  Now, I will give you that I enrolled her in the school where I was working.  I was even her kindergarten teacher, but that was just one of the boundaries that I set for her.  The older she got, I backed off from watching over her day-to-day life at school.  And now, she is ready to head off to middle school.  I'm pretty sure I'm prepared--I know she is!

As parents, we have to find a balance between protecting our children from pitfalls of life and teaching them to make their own mistakes.  Some people go the other extreme from what Mema tried to do with Mom.  They give their children too much freedom and not enough boundaries.  They think they are doing their children a favor, making them happy by giving them everything they want.  It turns out these kids aren't happy at all, and they often find themselves in messes with no skills to get out.  Similarly, children that are over-protected never learn how to deal with difficulties of life.  When the inevitable freedom comes, they go wild and wind up in big messes just like their overindulged counterparts.  Man, this parenthood stuff is hard!  Handle with PRAYER!!!

Helen and Sharon--My Mema and my Mommy!!

God Uses the Simple Things....

This is truly one of my favorite pictures of my grandparents.  I love looking at them when they were so young and in love.  But I think the main reason that I like this particular picture is that it shows a side of them and a time in their lives that is so very different from the people I have known all of my life.  First of all, look at Mema with her head all wrapped up, hair parted down the middle and back off of her face.  NEVER would you see her like that!  Then, look in Papa's hand.  Is that a *ahem* beer bottle?  And his shirt is un-tucked.  He looks almost "cool."  They look so different here, and the picture absolutely  captivates me.  They are so relaxed, carefree, comfortable with each other and with having their picture made in this way. 

Even though I doubted that this was one of Mema's favorite pictures, I used it in the slideshow at her funeral.  I did crop it so that the beer bottle wasn't in the picture, though.  But this blog is about honestly sharing the truths that I have learned from growing up so close to her.  So..you get the "uncensored" version.  Hey, I am a librarian, I am supposed to stand against censorship!

The truth is that neither one of my grandparents came from influential families.  They didn't have much money. They didn't have even a high school education.  Yet, they have become spiritual leaders and mentors to countless people.  They walked in the Power of the Lord, and shared the gospel message everywhere they went.  How did this couple with the funny hair and the beer bottle become pastors and prayer warriors?  Simple--It was God's plan.  Read this little excerpt from 1 Corinthians:

Brothers and sisters, think of what you were when you were called.  Not many of you were wise by human standards; not many were influential; not many were of noble birth.  But God chose the foolish things of the world to shame the wise; God chose the weak things of the world to shame the strong.  God chose the lowly things of this world and the despised things--and the things that are not--to nullify the things that are, so that no one may boast before him.  It is because of him that you are in Christ Jesus, who has become for us wisdom from God--that is, our righteousness, holiness and redemption.  Therefore, as it is written: "Let the one who boasts boast in the Lord."  

1 Corinthians 1:26-31 (NIV)

 Ok, I know that is WAY more Bible text than I usually include in my blog.  Hope I haven't lost you.  What does it mean?  God doesn't choose the best of the best when he calls people to do His work.  It isn't that He CAN'T use someone from an influential family, or with a lot of education, or with a lot of money.  It's just that when He takes someone from nothingness and makes them into something great, you absolutely know that it was HIM that did it.  (See, Papa, I listened while you preached!)

Mema barely finished the tenth or eleventh grade.  I think she had Johnny when she was 17, and was divorced shortly after.  She worked from the time she was very young, and didn't really have a "childhood."  Her preacher daddy ran off, and she was left to help her mom pick up the pieces.  But, she had a praying momma!

Papa had even less education than Mema did.  His family even lived in a tent for part of his childhood.  But later on, when the Lord called him to preach, he taught himself to read better by listening to the Bible on a record (you know, those CD things made out of vinyl) and following along.  And, let me add, when I had trouble learning long division--it was Papa who helped me.  He became a student of the Word of God.

Together, they founded and pastored Glenwood Full Gospel Church for over 50 years.  The church has never been big, but it has always gotten by.  The Lord has always provided enough cash flow to pay the bills and keep the doors open.  I guess the church is another example of the scriptures I quoted above, because there have been many times when the world would look at our little congregation and think "Why do they even bother?"  But, God bothers.  He bothered with my grandparents.  And there are many people in California, Oklahoma, Missouri, Pennsylvania, Florida, and places I'm not even aware of who can say that they are very glad He did. 

Waiting on the Lord...

Helen holding Johnny

Helen and Floyd knew each other six years before they married.  In the meantime, Floyd joined the army.  He was stationed in Pearl Harbor, Hawaii after the Japanese bombing.  Helen was back at home getting ready to fight a war of her own.

Helen met, and later married a man named Charles.  They had a son she named Johnny Wayne.  When later asked why she chose the name, she simply stated that John Wayne was her favorite movie star.  Duh!  Obviously!!  Anyway, Charles and Helen's marriage was not ideal.  Apparently Johnny was the only thing good that came of it, and they were soon divorced.

Meanwhile, Floyd was back from the service, and he and Helen were reunited.  They married and before long, my mother was born.  There was a short period of time when Mom and John were actually raised together, although they were both too young to remember this time of their lives. 

Sharon and Johnny

Floyd loved little Johnny, and he was very protective of his family--Helen, Johnny, Sharon (my mother), and his mother-in-law Versie.  Helen and Charles were in the midst of a bitter custody battle over Johnny, and Charles won.

According to a story told to me, Johnny was playing in Helen's front yard one day and was taken away from her.  She wasn't allowed to see him anymore.  One day, she was standing at Versie's kitchen sink and she heard fire trucks go by the house.  She knew it was something to do with young Johnny--and she was right.  Floyd and Grandpa Railey (Versie's husband) jumped in the car and followed the firetruck.  They found the scene of a wreck between a car and a train.  Little Johnny was the only survivor.  He was thrown from the car and landed in a water-filled ditch nearby.  Helen went to the hospital to see about Johnny, but Charles had re-married and she was told that her presence was confusing to the boy, and was asked not to return.  So, Helen had to make what would be the most difficult decision of her life.  Fight for the son she loved and risk loosing everything, or let him go and make the best life she could with her new husband and baby girl.  She backed away. 

In the car on that fateful day was one of Johnny's relatives by the name of Helen.  He knew that was his mother's name, and he was led to believe that it was she who died in the wreck with the train.  Throughout his life, he believed that his mother was dead.  In reality, he grew up just down the street from his mother.  My mother and Johnny even went to middle school together.  Mom says that one time, she got in trouble at school for telling everyone that he was her brother.  She was confused because she didn't even know the story--it was a cousin that had told the tale.

When Johnny was in his thirties, Helen's sister-in-law, Bonnie, helped to make sure that Johnny knew the truth.  By that time, he was grown, had served in the military, married, and had children of his own.  He says that he remembers meeting her for the first time as an adult.  He hugged her and just sat there resting his head on her breast, weeping.  He felt like he had come home--that a hole in his heart had been filled.  He was very conflicted and torn for a long time.  I guess when you are led to believe a lie for your whole life, you really have to make peace with the truth for yourself.  It wasn't that he'd had a bad life with his dad and step-mom.  It just was missing something... his mother.  He wanted to honor them all, and Helen gave him the space and freedom to work this out in his own heart.

R to L:  Sharon, Helen, Patti, Johnny-- Back: Floyd

I am so proud to say that this picture was taken on Mother's Day, 2011.  It is Mema with her family reunited:  her husband, Floyd, her daughters, Patti and Sharon, and her son, Johnny Wayne.

During Mema's illness, Johnny decided to fully embrace his mother.  He visited her, sat at the hospital with us, and became a part of the family that feels like was always there.  And now that she is gone, he has been such a comfort to us all.  He has filled a void for my daughter, Emily, for sure!  And, in honor of his mother's memory, he has chosen to help in the ministry at the church she and Papa founded over half a century ago.

What a story of reconciliation!  Mema waited for this picture for a LONG time.  (In honor of my Uncle, I won't say how many years, hee-hee.)  There was nothing that Helen could have done to change this situation.  She had to let go and let GOD work it out.  And He did!  God heard her prayers all those years, and said "Wait!  I'll let it happen when you really need it!"  It just lets me know that it is true that God has won the war before we have even fought a battle.

"Those who wait on the Lord shall renew their strength; They shall mount up with wings like eagles, They shall run and not be weary, they shall walk and not faint."  Isaiah 40:31 (NKJV) 

 

Romance at the Crown Drug Store

 Crown Drug Store-- 4th and Main--Downtown Tulsa--Photo Credit: Beryl Ford Collection/Rotary Club of Tulsa, Tulsa City-County Library and Tulsa Historical Society. “Preservation and archiving of this significant Tulsa treasure of photographs and artifacts was made possible through the Tulsa City-County Library and the Tulsa Historical Society, and the generosity of Tulsa World/Lorton Family, Chester Cadieux, the Rotary Club of Tulsa, and many other community-minded corporations, institutions, and individuals.”

Being one of the oldest siblings, young Helen felt a responsibility to help provide for her family.  When she was thirteen years old, she got a job as a soda jerk at the Crown Drug Store at 4th and Main in Downtown Tulsa.  This is where fourteen-year-old Floyd Lang enters our story.  Floyd came into the Crown as a customer, and Helen stole his heart.

Just tonight, I asked Papa to confirm these details, and he got a twinkle in his eye.  I can't imagine what loosing Mema has felt like for him.  They knew each other for sixty-nine years! They raised two daughters, pastored a church, spoiled grandchildren, looked after nieces and nephews, caught fish, played dominoes, cooked amazing food, ran a successful restaurant ...lived a very full life...together...for almost seven decades!

When I was little, I always thought that my Papa could fix anything.  He worked as a carpenter and had a woodshop in his basement.  He would let me go down to the shop with him and I would hammer nails.  I remember hunting around in all of his wood shavings to find discarded nails so that I wouldn't have to waste his good ones.  He would have given me new nails, but I think I really just liked to dig in the sawdust.  It smelled so good in that shop!  I loved to watch him take pieces of lumber and make them into something useful and beautiful.

Before Mema got sick, Papa wasn't doing well.  He had problems with his hip.  He had shortness of breath.  He spent a lot of time lying around the house.  It almost seemed like he had lost his purpose.  He had been a preacher for over fifty years, and when he could no longer speak without going into a coughing fit, I guess it makes sense that he got a little down.  The day we got the diagnosis, Papa cried.  And then he got strong again.

He couldn't fix this, but he took care of her throughout her illness: three surgeries, countless chemo treatments, radiation, and all of the side-effects that go with it!  He cooked for her and made sure she ate.  He cleaned up after her when making sure she ate backfired on him.  He drove himself to the hospital and walked all over St. John's just to visit her. 

Then, one afternoon, just a few months ago, my family and I were in Oklahoma City for the day when my mom called to say that Papa wasn't feeling well.  He was numb on his right side.  I told Mom to get him to the hospital--NOW--even if you have to throw him in the trunk to do it!   Sure enough, he'd had a stroke.  The doctors decided that he needed to have his carotid artery cleaned out, so, the caretaker became the patient.  Mema rallied and helped take care of Papa, and he ended up making a full recovery in record time.  It was a good thing, because Mema was getting ready to take a turn for the worse.

If Papa could fix anything, Mema made everything right.  And things just don't seem quite right anymore.  It amazes me how they complemented each other.  Where he was tough and rough, she was soft and gentle.  And for them to have their ups and downs at opposite times throughout the past couple years has really been a blessing. I guess they completed each other. Now she's gone, and life goes on--a fact that still amazes me!  The doctors have decided that Papa needs to have his other carotid artery cleaned out in a couple weeks.  We'll try to take care of him as good as Mema could.  Please remember him (and us) in your prayers.

Floyd and Helen Lang--Christmas 2010

It's Not What Other People Do To You....

Helen and Versie--and a shadowy photographer. :)

Most of you reading this blog knew my Mema.  (Although there are a few faithful readers who only know her through these stories!)  I would guess there are very few other than family that knew Grandma Versie.  I can tell you that as much as I adored Mema--she felt the same way about her Momma!  As a matter of fact, the only time I ever saw Mema "loose it" was after Granny's funeral in 1996.

I am truly blessed that I had my Great-Grandmother Versie here with me until I was 23.  I feel like I really knew her for myself.  We used to smile and laugh about the little sayings she would have, but I find I'm saying them myself the older I get.  My favorite:  "It's not what other people do to you, it's what you do about it."  That one used to make me smile because you could take it two ways.  One would be the vindictive fun route.  The other one is what she actually meant.  You can't control what other people do, and you aren't responsible for their actions.  The only thing you have to answer for is your reaction.  So true!  And Versie lived this one out to the extreme.

Yesterday, I wrote about all of the Aery siblings.  Big family, right?  Especially by today's standards.  The really amazing thing is that Versie pretty much raised the kids on her own.  Cleo stuck around long enough to father all those beautiful faces, then left Versie while she was pregnant with the youngest, Kenneth.  He ran off to California with his new bride.  These days, folks have pretty much come to expect this sort of thing.  Back then--this was scandalous behavior!  Especially since Cleo was a Free Will Baptist Minister!

Versie and Kenneth--Downtown Tulsa

Chuck, the oldest, was off in the military.  Mema, being the second oldest, quit school and got a job to help Granny with the kids.  I mean, Versie was getting ready to have a baby!  How was she supposed to provide for her family of SIX kids??

Ok, so you may be thinking, "Amy, why in the world are you airing the family's dirty laundry?"  It's simple.  It isn't what Cleo did to Versie, it's what Versie did about it.  She set such an example of grace and forgiveness for the rest of us to follow.  Apparently,  Versie reported Cleo's little indiscretion to the authorities (see newspaper clipping below), and then it was never really discussed again.  Kenneth and Mema both told me that their mother refused to allow anyone to speak ill of their father.  She urged the children to forgive him.

Many years later, when Cleo lay dying, he asked for Versie.  He wouldn't have anything to do with his second wife.  He wanted Versie.  When she got the call, she went to him in California.  I don't know if I could have shown such grace to the man who left me with all those mouths to feed.  But Versie did.  The nurses said that Cleo preached sermons from his bed while he lay dying.  He made peace with God--and with Versie.  Why did she go to him?  Why did she let him "off the hook"?  Because she wasn't responsible for his behavior, but she was responsible for unforgiveness and bitterness she could have held in her heart.

I admit that there have been many times over the years that I have been frustrated with Mema.  It always seemed that people were using her, hurting her, backstabbing her--yet she would forgive them and take them back in like nothing had ever happened.  Looking back, she learned that from Versie.  They took the Lord's Prayer to heart--forgive our trespasses as we forgive those that trespass against us. 

Newspaper Clipping found in an old scrapbook in Mema's "No-no Closet"

Humble Beginnings

Helen Louise Aery--6 months old

Today seems a fitting day to describe, to the best of my knowledge, the basic facts of Mema's early life. I have tried and tried to think of a way to NOT make this blog sound like an obituary.  The only thing I can think of is to take my time, and not try to write about too many things at once.   I want to write about some of the early people and events because they helped to shape her life.  Just think of this entry as some background information.

Helen Louise Aery was born July 19, 1929, in Stigler, Oklahoma, to  Cleo D. Aery and Versie (Russell) Aery.  She was the second child, and the oldest daughter born to the couple.  As was the case with many families of the time, they didn't have a lot of material wealth, but the Lord blessed them with a lot of children. Four boys: Chuck, Robert, Raymond, and Kenneth, and three girls: Helen, Marie, and Cleola.  Now, you can imagine that there are many stories that have filtered down from growing up with so many siblings...We'll save those for another time. 

(L to R)--Helen, Marie, Chuck holding Kenneth.  In front:  Cleola and Robert

 Look at that bunch of kids!  Marie, Robert, and Kenneth are still with us.  The rest of Mema's siblings and her parents have already passed.  Her mom, my Grandma Versie, was a graceful woman who weathered the difficulties of her life with strength and faith in the Lord.  I hope the readers of this blog will see that when I let you further inside the history. 

Today, let me tell you about Raymond.  He is the only Aery sibling absent from this picture.  I visited his grave today, and dusted the dirt and grass away from the stone.  He was only ten years old when he died. 

The family home caught on fire. I believe a stove or an oven blew up???  Anyway, the family exited the house, and in the confusion, Raymond thought that his mother, Versie, was still in the house.  He ran back in, determined to save her.  But Versie was already outside, and Raymond was lost. 

This is all I know about Raymond:  First, he was a brave ten-year-old that loved his mother.  Second, he loved the American Flag.  That's it.  Grandma Versie always wanted to make sure that his grave was decorated on Memorial Day with the American Flag.  When she died, my cousin Robin promised to continue the tradition.  So, every year Robin decorates the grave of an uncle she never knew.  She does this for Versie. 

Versie's and Helen's gravesites are corner-to-corner touching right next to Raymond's.  But they aren't there.  Today, they're having a birthday party in Heaven. 

Happy Birthday, MEMA!!!!

Today would have been Mema's 53rd anniversary of her 29th birthday.  Mema always said she was 29.  I remember when my mom turned 30, I told Mema that she needed to turn at least 30.  She told me, "Your mom can be 30 if she wants to, but I am 29!"  Yes, ma'am!

So, this morning Mom, Emily, Papa and I loaded up in the car. We went to breakfast and then took some flowers to the cemetery.  I made sure the bouquet had big lilies in it because that is what Mom and Mema would send me on my birthday sometimes.  It was nice to honor her with a short visit (before the 100+ heat set in for the day).  It was mom's first time to visit the grave since the funeral.  We were all glad we went.

Then, in honor of Mema, we took Papa shopping.  Yes, shopping!  We took him to Hobby Lobby because he's a little bored these days and it's too hot to putter around in the garden.  He got a balsa wood airplane to build.  After that excursion, we stopped at QuikTrip for drinks, and a miracle happened.  While Mema was going through treatment, she wore very little jewelery.  But there was one bracelet she always had on her wrist.  It was one of those magnetic bracelets that is supposed to help with joint pain.  She swore it made her feel better, so she kept it on all she could.  A few weeks before she passed, the bracelet was lost.  We all looked everywhere for it.  Where could it be?  She never went anywhere but to church and the doctor.  We took her chairs apart, looked all around the bed, searched the church, asked at the doctor, looked all over the car--no bracelet.  Today, while I was in QT, Papa was sitting in the back seat of the car, looked down, and saw the bracelet under the seat.  It made us all tear up and smile at the same time. 

So, Happy Birthday Mema!  I know you are having your best one yet!

Mema on her birthday in 2008--the 50th anniversary of her 29th birthday. ;)

Happy Birthday Sarah!

Twelve years ago last night, Mema and I had our first slumber party at a hospital.  We stayed all night in the waiting area at Saint Francis because Robin was in labor with Sarah.  So, today is Sarah's big ONE-TWO!  It is always difficult to celebrate important family days after a loved one is gone.  Sarah and Mema always celebrated their birthdays together because they were only three days apart.  (Well, three days and a few years. *wink wink*) 

Sarah, I hope you have a wonderful day, and an even better year!  You and Emily were the highlight of the last 12 years of Mema's life.  She loved you so much!  Listen to this sage advice from your Fairy Godmother:
1)  Cherish all of the times you had with Mema.  When you look back as an adult it will be those everyday routine things that make you smile the most! (Think talking Mema into chicken nuggets from Wendy's or an ice cream from Braum's on the way home from school.)
2)  Hold on to all of those important lessons she taught you.  Yes, sharing is important.  Yes, you should always kiss and make up.  etc. etc.
3)  Remember how very much Mema loved you.  Just because she isn't here anymore doesn't mean that love is gone.  Whenever you feel down or sad, it's ok.  Mema still loves you.  (P.S. So do I!!)

The Watch

Here is my favorite story from Helen's Cafe.  It will quickly become clear why I love it so much.

One day Mema was waiting on a customer in the Cafe.  It was someone she had never seen before.  She went  over to help him and he reached out to her and said "May I see your watch?"  Weird request, but of course she showed him her watch.  The man looked at her and began to tell her how the Lord had given him a vision of that watch and that He had given him a message for the woman wearing it.  He said, "Your daughter desperately wants to have a child.  She will have a baby of her own."  The man said that he was a missionary and had been out of the country on a mission.  When he returned home, his wife had left and taken his children.  He was on his way to California to find them.  He promised to pray all the way there for Mema's daughter to have a baby, and asked Mema to pray that he would find his children as well.

Ok, this story sounds outrageous, but it is true!  I retold this story to some people after Mema's funeral and a family member nearby was listening saying, "Yep, that's how it happened!  I was there!"  You see, my parents had been trying for years to have a baby.  That very weekend, they were in Oklahoma City to begin the process of adopting a child.  But this man said that my mother would have a baby of her own, and by the time he would have made it to California, my mother found out she was pregnant with me.   

I often wonder about that man.  Mom and Mema told me his name, but I can never remember it.  I wonder if he ever found his children.  I have heard this story all my life.  It took me a long time to even question where babies come from--they come from prayer, silly!!  Really, they do come from the Heart of God!  The Psalmist said it so well:  

"For you created my inmost being; you knit me together in my mother's womb.  

I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made; 

your works are wonderful, I know that full well." (Psalm 139: 13-14)

Helen's Cafe

One of the first things people notice when they visit our church is that we eat--A LOT!  Every month for as long as I can remember we have a singing on the second Saturday of the month.  We eat afterwards.  Every Sunday morning after service, we eat.  Mema loved to cook for the people she loved, and was a firm believer in comfort food.  And when she cooked, she cooked for an army.  Maybe this is the reason why:

Back in the day, Mema worked as a waitress.  Then she opened a restaurant of her own.  The restaurant was located in a few different locations around downtown Tulsa.  These pictures are from 1123 S. Main where Helen's Cafe was located from 1964-1977.  

No matter where it was located, there were a few things customers could count on.  First of all, they would be treated like family.  Second, they were guaranteed to have a fabulous home-cooked meal.  Many people came to the restaurant for more than what was offered on the menu.  They wanted someone to listen, someone to pray for their needs.  The restaurant was more than a business, it was a ministry.  Maybe that is why it never made her rich--I am sure she gave away many plates of food.  No one was allowed to go hungry when Mema was around. 

I wish I could remember the restaurant, but I was only four years old when it closed.  Traces of that place are still very evident in my life.  (Stay tuned...the best story is yet to come!)  Most of us still have our own favorite recipe left over from Helen's Cafe, mine is homemade chicken and noodles.  Fortunately, Papa still knows how to make them. :)

But more than the food, the tradition remains.  If anyone comes to our church hungry, they will be fed.  There have been several people who tried to talk her out of having Sunday dinners at the church.  After all, it is a lot of work every week.  She wouldn't hear of it! In the months before she died, we had a group of neighborhood kids who were coming on their own to church. One in particular would eat three big plates of food every time.  Mema was convinced that little boy didn't get enough to eat during the week.  She had to make sure he had a good meal on Sunday.  Now that little boy was ornery!  He tore stuff up, made a mess, talked back to the adults--but he was learning.  He started cleaning up after himself (sometimes), and if he was disrespectful to someone, he would usually come back the following week and apologize.  Sometimes he would even snag some flowers from the neighbor's yard on the way to church to give to the offended lady.  We don't see him much anymore.  His house burned and we don't know exactly where he is living now.  The last day he came to church was the day after she died.  He cried.  I wish he would come back.  We would feed him. 

Nothing You Could Ever Do....

We are gearing up for Vacation Bible School at church this week.  Boy, Mema loved it when we had VBS last summer!  She wasn't able to be there much but she wanted to know all about it.  The theme for this year is "God is WILD about you."  Basically, God loves you very much, and there isn't anything you could do to make him not love you.  Sounds like a theme Mema would have chosen.

As a matter of fact, it sounds like the theme by which she lived her life.  She wanted everyone to know that God loved them, but she didn't stop there.  She also wanted them to know that SHE loved them, no matter what!  Here is an example of how she showed this important lesson to me:

Before I was born, Mema made this Jenny Lind doll from a kit.  It was special to her because she didn't have a lot of toys and things from her childhood.  Most of them were lost, along with her younger brother Raymond, when their house burned down.  So, she had this simple little porcelain doll.  Guess who loved to play with the doll??? 

I loved that doll!  Mema would let me play with it.  I always remember one of the feet being broken.  I'm not sure if that was my doing or if it happened prior to my facination with it, but her little flaw made me love Jenny Lind that much more.  Of course, it wasn't long until I was carrying her through the house and knocked her good foot against the side of the door frame.  OOPS!  Sorry Mema!  I remember crying and insisting that Papa could fix it (after all, he can fix anything). 

Now I am sure that Mema had to have been a little frustrated with my carelessness, but she never let it show to me.  Jenny Lind was eventually sent off to the doll hospital where they switched her feet out for some that don't quite match the rest of her.  I remember the day she came back. Now, I probably would have put her away and not let her be played with anymore.  But that wasn't Mema's way.  She handed Jenny Lind back to me and told me to just be careful with her. (Later, Jenny even came to live with me at my house.)

A simple example.  Some might say that it is just an example of a spoiled-rotten kid.  Trust me, Mema would thank you very much for that assessment of me.  She worked hard to make sure I was good and spoiled!  But she didn't just treat me like that.  I don't care who you are, if Mema knew you, she loved you, and there is nothing you could ever do that would change that.  Some out there may disagree with me, but those people are just confused.  They don't get it.  Mema didn't have to like your actions to love you.  She didn't have to agree with you to love you.  It is the same way with God.  There are times when I do things that He doesn't like.  I have ideas and opinions that He doesn't agree with.  But he loves me anyway!  I may be careless, irresponsible, selfish...human...yet He gave His only Son to die for me.  There is nothing I could do to deserve that kind of love--and there is nothing I could ever do to change it.  I just need to accept it!  I'm a spoiled-rotten child of The King.  Are you?

Whither Thou Goest...

One of my favorite stories in the bible is that of Ruth.  She showed such faithfulness to her mother-in-law, Naomi, that she left her home and traveled with her to a foreign land just to take care of her.  Or at least that is what Ruth thought she was doing.  In all actuality, God was directing Ruth to go with Naomi so that He could take care of them both.  And, in the process, Ruth became part of a much bigger plan.  She promised Naomi, "Whither thou goest, I will go.  Your people will be my people.  Your God will be my God."  Wow!

Ok, so that is how I always felt about Mema.  Wherever she was, that was home for me.  It didn't matter if we were sitting at her house playing Skip-Bo, traveling around Arkansas singing at different churches, at our home church ministering to the faithful few, or those special nights at St. John's hospital having our "slumber parties".  Wherever she was, that is where I wanted to be.

When I was little, I loved to spend the night with Mema.  Momma would come to pick me up the next day and we would barely get 5 miles from her house and I would cry to go back.  I guess I was rotten, because more often than not, Mom would turn around and take me back.  There was always peace when I was with Mema.  As I got older, I learned that there was usually some crisis going on with someone, but Mema never let it show to me.  It was safe with her.  It was home. 

She used to live within walking distance to the little storefront church that she and my Papa pastored.  I remember getting up on Sunday morning and walking to church with her.  We had to get there early to make coffee.  She played the organ during service, and my place was right next to her on the organ bench.  There were two rows of keys, and I got to play the bottom ones.  Fortunately for the congregation, the bottom row didn't work, but I played them with all I had.  It was there that I learned to sense the presence of the Lord.  I became comfortable with the moving of His Spirit, and later could respond to whatever He wanted me to do.  I loved to be right next to Mema when the Lord would move through her....

Back in those days, Mema would hold prayer meetings at the church on a regular basis.  I don't remember these being huge prayer circles, but just a few ladies who would meet and interceed for their families and the congregation.  One of the most faithful to meet was Juanita.  She would often bring her grandson, Joel with her.  Joel and I were the same age, and I loved it when he came.  We would lay underneath the altar and play quietly while our grandmothers talked to God.  We never seemed to bother them, although their prayer meetings were seldom quiet and serene.  Sometimes it was just me under that altar.  I would lay there and listen to the ladies pray.  Here I learned I could be bold and ask God for anything.  My child-like faith would be such that if we were praying for rain, I would walk around outside with my umbrella waiting for the answer.  I wish I could get back to that child-like faith.  It was so easy then.  We saw so many of those prayers answered.  I know God still answers our prayers, but as an adult I think it becomes too easy to focus on the times He says "No" or "Wait" and take the "Yes" answers for granted. 

So, that is the story behind the title of the blog.  Mema may not have left behind expensive jewelery or a big bank account, but the inheritance is priceless!  She laid up her treasures in heaven, but she left plenty behind on earth as well.  She invested in people by giving so generously of her time and her heart. May we all provide the interest!!