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!!