Santa and Margaret Guidry Tanner

   Christmas has come and gone, once again. When I was a child, I remember telling my grandmother Guidry, that the summer was over too quickly and that the time had flown by. She told me that the older you get, the faster it flies. I have found that to be true. Speaking of truth, I know the reason for the season. I do. But I can't help the way that I feel, every time I see a Santa Claus or Christmas lights. As children we knew when it was time for Christmas. The first signs were lighted bells coming out of our neighbor, Mr. Kerr's, chimney. We believed in the jolly old man that waved from his front porch and it made the time magical. Mr. Kerr decorated every tree and bush with lights and figures. We made our lists and were motivated to behave, most of the time. But that was during the Christmas season. What we lived every day, was the "true meaning" of Christmas. That thing that people want to remind you of, "what Christmas is really all about". What they don't realize, is that, no one really needs to say it. I hear people say " It's not about presents". Really? I didn't know! Seriously? We get it. But to me, it IS about the giving, not the getting. I love to buy and give gifts. Isn't that a Christian value? LOL! I have one surviving thing from my childhood Christmases, a little Santa Claus bank that my mother gave us. She was the most giving and selfless person I knew. She taught us the true meaning of Christmas, throughout the year. So many times my parents sacrificed for us to have the important things in life. They taught us to give out of our lack. To me that is the magic of Christmas.
   My mother passed away at thirty nine years old, after a two and a half year battle with cancer. But when she was healthy, she was the most fun mother in town. Everyone said that they loved to come to our house. It wasn't the neatest home, we were five kids and two parents, but it was a home where she let us be kids. Our home was clean enough to be healthy and dirty enough to be happy! My mother was relaxed that way, but not in her expectations for our character building. We went to a Catholic school, which was a sacrifice that they made for us, a "gift". We went to church every Sunday and confession every Saturday. During Lent, we attended the Stations of the Cross and at least once a week we attended mass in addition to Sunday mass. Every Sunday we had church and then lunch with my father's family. His mother, Mama Tanner, cooked a huge lunch and afterwards we watched football and then the adults later played cards or dominoes. That's not to forget prayers at St. Michael's morning assembly, meals and bedtime. On Sundays after church, we spent the day with all of our cousins too!  We played outside and used our imaginations. We colored in color books, played chase or "123 red light!" and "Mother may I?" We had traditions and continuity in our lives, which made for a stable and secure home life. Life seemed simple then.

   My birthday is on December 12th. One year, she took me with her to do the grocery shopping, just the two of us. It was the Saturday before my big day. At the store, she bought me a container of candy in the shape of a peppermint stick and another Santa something for my birthday gift. I remember how special she made me feel. It had always been her mission to make each of us feel special and loved in our own way. One summer she took all five of us to the store and let us each pick out one toy. It was a memorable time because it didn't happen every day or year for that matter. I already had in my mind, that I wanted a SLINKY. They didn't have one at the store where everyone else had found their surprise gift. My mother, being the kindest soul, told me that she would stop by another place and let me look for one. She did and I found one! I will never forget the feeling of appreciation for her effort, just for me. I am sure my siblings could recount the ways that she did that for them too. She did have a way of making us all feel special.
   On December 30, 2010, she would have been 73 years old. I wonder what kind of "old lady" she would have been. Would she be old or would she still be young at heart? I think the latter. She would have approached aging like she did cancer, with a huge fight. Going out with style and dignity. I only have my memories of long ago, to emulate her with. In her short life she packed a punch. She left us with strength and courage. We all miss her. Her life was too short, but I am sure she was waiting with open arms for all of my loved ones who have joined her. Maybe she needed to be there for them! Who knows?! We all try to guess the meaning and the reasons. We try to figure it out. The meaning of events, tragedies, life, Christmas. For me, it's about the giving and FORgiving. It's the reason for the season. The season of "My Beautiful Life".

Russell Edward Hays

  

   The initials are REH. When my daughter Samarah was a teenager, she was browsing around in an antique store and found a Zippo lighter. It was engraved with the initials REH. She bought it despite the meaningless initials and made the comment that, "it will mean something one day". A few years later she met Russell Edward Hays. Weeks into their courtship, he happened upon the lighter. He picked it up and said that those were his initials. Hmmmm....He became her husband, but not because of his initials. LOL! She had found her soul mate. They truly loved each other. The colors that were woven into their lives were rusty reds, oranges and yellows. They were the colors of the flowers, in their wedding, the color of his hair and the color she chose in almost every sentimental decision she made.

   My fondest memory of my son in law is him standing in my kitchen, playing his violin, singing a song to my daughter. It was one that he was to sing at a wedding that day. She wanted me to hear it. The name of the song was "The luckiest" by Ben Folds. He sang and played it while looking straight into her eyes throughout the whole thing. He said that he wished he had written it. I still tear up at the memory. I saw the love pass between them and knew that I would never need to worry about them. A mother's only wish. The love, trust and bond was rooted in the Lord. Their faith was a quiet force that they did not flaunt. They just lived it. It grounded their life in what was important. Russell was protective and fiercely loyal. He loved Christ and is with him today. Of this I am sure. He believed he was the luckiest man. I think he was. He would be 34 this year on December 10th.

  I hang an ornament on my Christmas tree for each member of my family. I chose a little glass mushroom for him, years ago. He and Sam loved to eat at Mellow Mushroom and he was like the hippies from the 70s. Mushrooms were very popular then. They were on everything. As I walked in my yard this week, I noticed a little color of orange poking out of some leaves. I uncovered these tiny mushrooms. I realized what it was. A little hello from Russell, around his birthday. I see these things as signs. Signs that our loved ones, who have passed on, live on. So happy birthday, my son in law. I love you and I miss you. Peace be with you.

Shhhhhh it happens



Storms can be beautiful!

My hobbies and fun

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The joys of my life





The love of my life





Adam's children



Woody and 3 of the 11 grandchildren hunting doves

In my last entry "Thanksgiving" I tried to convey the depth of my gratitude. I re-read my post and felt as if something was missing. I thought that in order to understand it fully, I would have to re-write it and explain every way in which the losses had affected my life. The sacrifices, changes, disappointments and lack would have to be laid out. As I began, it dawned on me that I didn't even want to "go there". I didn't want to make the long laundry list of grievances, yet once again. I knew then, that I had truly changed. No longer did I want to think and repeat the negatives. I didn't want to reinforce and ignite the self pity that drove my life, so far. I wanted to live, not waste time in the past. I wanted to "be" in the "now". On the day of this new awakening, I was filled with positive energy and looked forward to my day, my life. I bounced out of the house and drove to work. My mind wandered to the wonderful blessings of the past. I began to dream of the bright future ahead. A trickle of fear crept in and I thought "Oh! This is too good to be true and it won't last for very long. Something will come along to knock me down. Be prepared, brace yourself. Try to hold onto this wonderful feeling of hope." I figured that I would just be ready for it and it wouldn't rob me of my joy. Sure enough one hour later I stepped in a hidden pile of dog mess on the lady's rug that I was vacuuming and then proceeded to run over it with the vacuum cleaner. Oh Yuck! How appropriate that the first downer would be "shit". Yes "shit happens" as they say. It does. I laughed as I cleaned it up, on the carpet, my shoe and inside the vacuum cleaner. Not my usual attitude. OK! I realize that life isn't perfect, but I'll be damned if I'll let it steal my happiness. When I stack my ups and downs next to each other, I see, if I choose to, that the positive "pile" is higher and brighter and the negative "pile" is, well, you know........

Thanksgiving

   It is weird how simple thoughts can hit you in a new and more profound way, all of a sudden. I was on the floor scrubbing away, deep in thought, when it hit me. Life was a real gift. A gift that only God can give. If anyone gives me anything, I am grateful and appreciative. I have not been to God. I had a wonderful childhood. Great parents and grandparents. I was active in school and was raised in the Catholic church. I was told that I could do anything with hard work and an education. My life ahead was filled with hopes and dreams of happiness and achievement. When I turned 15 they told me that my father's mother had cancer. She died when I was 16. A year later, one day after my 17th birthday, my mother was diagnosed with cancer and was told that she had about 6 weeks to live. We were devastated. She lived two and a half years and died when I was 19. Then two years later my sweet maternal grandmother died of heart failure. Since then, I have lost so many more. My brother's baby drowned, my father, a few cousins, aunts, uncles, grandparents, two sister in laws that were under 33 years old. One of them being, Miia Trahan, Samarah's godmother, who had breast cancer. It is a loss that still has me shaking my head in disbelief, after 15 years. On May 4, 2002, I lost my oldest daughter, Rosalind. She died of a brain aneurysm. Tragedy struck again on Jan 1, 2009, when my youngest daughter Samarah's husband, Russell Hays, was killed in a horrific car accident. A criminal case and trial is still in the works for the real driver. A blog for another day.
   Long ago when I was a little girl, I had dreams, hopes, visions of a wonderful life. I had no idea there would be so many losses and so much sadness and pain in my life. On the day that I realized that God had given me a gift of life, I realized that I had not been grateful for the first breath. I also realized how angry I had been most of my life. Angry at life, God and myself for the pain. I came to see that I have been acting like an ungrateful, spoiled brat, actually. Wasting precious time, having an adult temper tantrum. I am ashamed now, but free. I want to live. Really live! Not complaining about everything, feeling pity for myself. I have been working up to this, I know. It's been a long time coming. Starting with seeking beauty and joy in my life. But now, just for me, I want to live again. Really live. No one else may know the difference in me, but I will. Thank you, Lord for delivering me from this attitude and showing me how to be thankful. Happy Thanksgiving. I can't wait to see what the next 50 years will bring!

Co-inky-dinks and waterfalls

Several years ago I began to experience synchronicity. Woody and I had just started dating when it began to happen. I awakened to the sound of a train going by. The rumble reminded me of the time I had visited Dry Falls, a waterfall near Highlands, North Carolina.You could walk under the shelf as the water flowed over and down in front. It caused the earth to tremble from the enormous energy and force of nature. The power scared me then. But not this day. This day, I was full of courage, hope and life. I longed to feel that power in a new way, with my new love. I wanted to feel the "earth move". LOL. I decided to ask Woody to take me there, but first, I needed to go to Louisiana to see my father. I was asked by a family member to bring a picture of Woody. I went over to Woody's and he offered me a cup of coffee. I asked him if he had a picture of himself that I could have. He said "yes". I watched as he walked to his bedroom, opened a drawer and took out a picture. As he got closer, he held the picture up so that I could see it. It was a picture of him, standing in front of a beautiful waterfall. I was astounded. I asked him if it was the waterfall of my past. Dry Falls?! He said it was. I was speechless. Unbeknown to him, I had just been thinking of the waterfall that morning. Our relationship was so new. I knew that it was a special moment in time. A sign of God's hand in my life. An affirmation of my new path. I framed the picture that weekend. Even now, it sits on my nightstand, after fourteen years. It is a reminder to me of that special day. Being in tune with God and the flow of life. I would visualize the future and my life would flow toward it. Many more of these incidents have happened since. I plan to share a few more. God has truly blessed me with this little gift. My co-inky-dinks. His way of saying hello.

Sweet Samarah

 

Bragging on my sweet daughter is probably not what I am supposed to do. Most people would not. Having lost so many people in my life at such young ages, I don't ration my praise or my love according to what is acceptable to anyone else. I love everyone. If you happen to read my blog I probably love you too! I am so grateful for the people I have left. A few weeks ago, Samarah showed up at my house with this little Golden Book; Rupert the Rhinoceros and a little tea cup with Johnny Jump Ups on it. I collect children's books. She said that she got the tea cup because I told her a story about when I was a little girl. I wanted my momma to have a collection of tea cups. My grandmother had one and I wanted my momma to have one too. I began babysitting for fifty cents an hour and washing the neighbors windows to buy her these little treasures. I would go to Dixie Hardware and bring my two or three dollars and get them for birthdays, Mother's Days, Christmas or just when I wanted my mother to know how much I loved her. One day, after several years of collecting them, a young man came over to our house and accidently knocked over the cabinet in which they were displayed. Every one of the dozen or so were smashed to pieces. I was in shock. We all tried to make him feel better so it wasn't until later that I cried. Samarah brought me a tea cup and I love her for the thought. Last night I arrived at her house and Lilli came running up to me with these little fall squashes. I was so excited that Samarah gave these things to me. It may seem like a small thing to someone else. It is huge to me because I see so many relationships in trouble over small things. Things, that if I still had all the people in my life, that have passed on, I might not appreciate. I do appreciate the small, simple, beautiful things in life. Thank you, Samarah for being the best daughter a mother could ask for.

Hunting



taken by my fellow hunter Brenda Preston

First bow hunt morning in my stand

Dove hunt 2010

It is so quiet. Not silent, just peaceful. The sounds you hear are the ones you expect. Birds, crickets, squirrels scurrying, chipmunks. In the distance, the roar of a truck or an occasional train or plane can be heard. The wind breezes in and the trees speak with their leaves. They say welcome, sit down, rest awhile and soak in the beauty of nature. Wait for the ghostly appearance of the doe. The smell of leaves who have seen better days, now mingle with soil and rain. The smell is exactly the smell under the oaks in mama Guidry's yard. All I need now is the scent of coffee and a big swing to be fully transported back in time. One carnivorous friend asked me the question I sometimes asked myself. "You killed something?" Yes me, sensitive, emotional, grandmother of 11. It is all so different when the hunting switch has been flipped on. The weird thing is that it brings out the survival mode not the killing one. I feel stronger, more courageous. It's not because of the weapon I carry, but the accomplishment of being able to provide from the wild as God intended man to live. Only in hunting can you feel that strength, knowing that you can do what it takes to "make it". Hunting is the noble art of taking responsibility for ones own survival. Not a common thing in this day of drive through chicken. My friend's refrigerator was filled with lamb chops, chicken and a beef roast. None of that a problem for her. Let someone else do the killing. I was the same up until a few years ago. The thought of taking the life of anything was abhorrent to me. I love life itself and everything that God has given to enjoy. I understand if one is a vegetarian and is bothered. But in my opinion, don't judge hunters while you are munching on ribs. LOL! You hear hunters say " You just hire assassins to do your dirty work" in reference to the nay sayers. I can only say that after taking the life of an animal, I literally stop and pray. I thank the animal for sharing its life with me. I appreciate that it will be nourishment to our bodies. I thank God. I promise the Spirit that I will not kill in vain, but only to further the circle of life. Thank you Lord for the beauty of the hunt.

Flower Garden

In early spring the cherry tree blooms

My mail lady tells me that she looks forward to the new "do" every year! LOL

Peonys, roses, azaleas and foxgloves

My Lilli, the sweetest flower!

Graham Thomas

Pearly Gates

Bella Roma

Flower gardening nourishes my soul. It begins before the first plant is ever bought. Starting with rose catalogs, magazines, web pages, I drool over the possibilities. I have so much hope for my yard. Every spring I have amnesia of the summer before. That's when the dry heat of the Georgia kind, scorches rose petals and impatiens alike. It is the process that I love, the planning, buying, digging, planting. I used to joke that I had to get my fix every day, stopping by to get a six pack. A six pack of annuals. The roses I grow are chosen for their scent, color and size. I started out with three or four bushes and the count soon became thirty something. I’ve scaled down a little. It’s like having children. You know them all by name and each one is special for a different reason.  I can't say that I love to water. My sweetheart had a sprinkler system put in for that. My daughter in law, Alison Woodall, shares this love of gardening. She takes pictures of her yard at its best, saying that it reminds her of better times. She encouraged me to do the same. I love sharing a bouquet with family or friends. For me, gardening is exercise, therapy, and prayer. It puts me in touch with the original gardener of Eden.





Pearly Gates and Lillian Hays

Lillian Miia Hays



I would love to know what she's thinking!



What can I say about Lilli? I don't think that I can do justice to her. You have to meet her. She is funny, spunky, sweet and smart. I love her happy attitude and smile. Her energy is as high as Papa Woody's, who's heart she has totally captured. She melts mine when she asks for something to eat. The child loves to eat. True to her Cajun roots! When she was born, Allison, my sister, called me after visiting the new baby girl. She said "Stephanie, she is perfect." She was. Her head was perfectly round and she was absolutely beautiful. She was her daddy's little princess. I took her shopping one day, recently. I called her mother and said " Oh my! I can't wait until she is 15 to watch you take her clothes shopping." She is a mess. She wraps you around her little finger. The one waiting for my childhood birthstone ring to fit on. It's a promise I have made to her. It sits on my kitchen window sill, along with the other little treasures of my life. My first picture taken with Woody, my frog scrubby holder that Samarah made for me, the earrings from Rosalind, and a couple of  Lego toys waiting to be returned to Isaac. These are the simple joys of my life. Ones that are only special to me. But that is what makes it YOUR life. "It's your life", people say. She is.



  
 

Isaac Hays

I love the song “Beautiful Boy” by John Lennon. I tell Samarah that I just thought I loved her! LOL When you have grandchildren, you fall in love with them with a whole new love. They are the joy of my life. I would give my life for them. I know from talking to other grandparents that this a common phenomenon, and you always think your grandchildren are the most special. There are the old adages “ you can spoil them and then send them home!” or “if I had known grandchildren were this much fun, I would have had them first!”. My favorite is “Grandchildren are your reward for not killing your children!” Thank goodness I never wanted to kill their momma. You think that they are the smartest, cutest, sweetest, most loving little angels in the world. I am no different. Here is my “Beautiful Boy

 

 

Isaac has the heart of a warrior. He is fierce in his sense of what is right and fair. Sounds like his daddy! He also has a heart of gold. A sweet little man, protective of his mother and sister. He loves his dogs, DS, computer games, Lego toys, playing chess and his new guitar. He picks songs out on the piano. He gets a natural talent from an angel up in heaven, watching down on his son.  He is strong yet sensitive. His mother is making sure that he becomes a gentleman. Enrolled in Cub Scouts, shooting his bow and just being a boy, will prepare him for a wonderful life ahead. Precious to me. My first grandchild, Isaac.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

My Lover Smiles

Lilli decided that Papa would look cute with a boa. The sweet man can't tell a girl "No"! Well, usually!

  
Woody is the love of my life. He makes me laugh, cry, grow, learn, forgive and play. We share so many things. He pushes, prods, teaches, and enjoys all kinds of activities with me. We make a good team. He cooks and I clean. He is fast and I am slow. He is 10 years older than I am and acts 10 years younger. He is a talented  drummer and can do anything well, the first time. He drives me crazy and I love how he challenges me. We have so much sporting equipment, that we could open a used sporting goods store! LOL! We have bikes, roller blades, tennis rackets, bowling balls, darts, chess set, work-out equipment. We hunt, and shoot archery, We scuba dive, swim, water ski, and  I almost killed myself trying to snow ski. Next he will be sky diving and that’s where I draw the line. I know I have forgotten something in this “first” post about my love, but rest assured that I will talk about Woody again. He is a unique person, one that I am so blessed to know. A beautiful soul. My Woody.