“Lord, remind me to just breathe and let the cool fall air seep into my senses and calm my soul.   Between ridiculous wars waged in the halls of our Congress and the battles abroad, we need your professional help. 

I often wonder if you are walking away and ending this old world.  I couldn’t blame you much.   For those who have read your book’s last chapter, you are following the words John wrote and what he saw.  Fires, earthquakes, wars, immoral selfish leaders, self-righteous folks, and turmoil fill our earth.  Now Israel attacked?  Wow!

And even though you do know what you are doing, could you give us another chance to do better?

Thank you, Lord.”

I know folks have discussed the end of time since the beginning of time, and who knows when we will be gone, but there is still hope.  So many good folks are still around, even though we all get sidetracked with wackiness occasionally.  We genuinely aren’t that bright; we just think we are.  That may be the main problem.

Power belongs to God

The quest for power is in a race with the pursuit of justice and equality.  Evil, indeed, is battling goodness on many fronts.  Churches are separating into sects, our government is splitting into factions, and often, they can turn folks away from caring at all.

 Every person believes they are correct, and boy, do we argue over our beliefs!  But when our idea of what is right or wrong comes before God’s words, we are all wrong.

Sometimes, I feel the Lord is trying to shake us silly to remind us to first follow Him instead of any earthly power.  We endured a killing plague, wildfires, floods, storms, and some mighty bad Washington behavior, but many still aren’t shaken.

 Some folks blamed others for all the horror we endured instead of working together to find solutions.  We proved the old theory that blaming and hate is much easier than admitting fault and love.

We witness evil proclaiming innocent lives and horrors we cannot comprehend.  However, those who inflame and spread hostility must be held accountable.

Character matters

 My children were put in time out or grounded if they bullied, spoke ill-will, poked fun at others, and disrespected any human soul.  When we elect leaders who do not follow the same principles, it is an affront to godly behavior and civility. 

When I witnessed a well-known political candidate openly mock a disabled reporter during a campaign, I walked outside to my porch and cried.  I have seen everything I taught my children to not do from our presumed government leaders.

 Character matters, and lack of it results in dire consequences.  Does policy come before godly behavior?  Does spreading fear come before the fear of God? 

Many in the political realm gain popularity by promoting ill will, blame, and vengeance.   That’s a shame because they would win and have more support if they were more respectful and showed dignity.  They lose because many American mothers proclaim, “You’re grounded.”

This is not a Republican or Democratic issue but a humanitarian one.  It is not about winning a race but running with grace and God. 

So, which way do we turn?  We saw a smattering of how untruths and lousy behavior can corrupt our nation when our capital was attacked.   How does terrorism begin, or how does a dictator start his reign?  It begins with selfish behavior, lack of fear of God, disrespect for human life, and inaction by those who believe in peace.

Kindness does not kill

“Lord, help all people to see you on the road, stop and offer you a ride through the hills and valleys of our entire existence.”

For each person to aid those in need and demonstrate love will advance goodness instead of evil.  We can be less combative and listen to others by being more open-minded and courteous.  Kindness does not kill. 

It is easy to be thoughtful and compassionate if we raise awareness of the benefits.  We can prevent many disasters if we try to help the Lord and fear His judgment instead of judging others.  If we applaud respectfulness, tolerance, and understanding, we can remind the world of the goodness of our nation.

“And Lord, help us all to breathe the cool air of autumn, feel the warmth of your love, and find peace.  For we know you will win the ultimate battle.”

“If anyone respects and fears God, he will hate evil.  For wisdom hates pride, arrogance, corruption, and deceit of every kind.”  Proverbs 8:13

A reader recently wrote a note to an editor after my column appeared in their Sunday morning paper.  “I cannot tell you how much I enjoy your weekly faith articles since we don’t get much good news anymore.” 

After the editor passed it on, I responded to the gentleman’s email with a big thank you and how he made my day.   I thought about his words for quite a while and realized how his kindness was passed through several people before it landed in front of my eyes. 

Passing kindness is always good news. 

  From acts of tenderness to love and charity, we heal and grow by the arm of faith.  The headlines will change if we apply that good news to each event around us.  It takes a deep commitment to put our belief in God into all aspects of our lives, and it isn’t easy.  It’s not supposed to be.

I have shared this analogy before, but it is worth repeating. 

Braving the Downpour

 When she emerged from the store, it was raining so hard she could hardly locate her car in the parking lot.  Her umbrella provided little protection as she emptied her store cart and tossed the bags into her SUV. 

What was she to do with the buggy?   She paused momentarily and ran with the cart in tow to return it to the front of the store.

 She was completely soaked when she returned to her car.

 A man appeared and opened her car door for her.  Shocked, she gazed at the perfectly dry gentleman.  Before she could speak, he declared, “Daughter, you chose not to let another endure the storm’s wrath, so you braved the downpour and returned the cart.  I see all things and am aware of all deeds.” 

How many times have we left a cart in the parking lot for someone else to deal with?  Is that using our faith?  Do we need to realize that God does view all our actions and hears all our words.?

Provide good news by caring enough for others to get soaked by the rain. 

Wisdom

While my brother and grandfather were in the living room in a robust exchange over politics, I was in the kitchen with Grandpa, my grandmother. 

“Listen to those two!” She declared as she shook her head and rolled her eyes. 

“I hear them, but why do you not express your ideas about government or politicians?  Who do you side with, Grandpa?”   I questioned.

“My views on such things are simple.  Folks can become all educated in policy and get fiery over who and what they believe is best for America.  Shoot, they only need to read the Bible to learn most all things and then apply it to government leaders.  When we take God out of everything, we lose all.  They ain’t no winnin’ if God ain’t in it!” She finished with a snicker. 

I don’t recall a word that was said in the living room among two scholarly guys, but I distinctly remember the words of my elementary-educated grandmother. 

Godly wisdom is good news.  

Creating good news

Remember Saul?  He was one nasty dude who could create havoc like no one else.  Oh, he was religious, alright, and believed totally in his ways and rules.  That is until God got a hold of him and shined a light on Saul by casting him into darkness. 

Yet, in that blackness, Saul found the light.  St. Paul was reborn not of the flesh but of the soul, and thus, changed the world.  We can change the world also if we become bearers of light instead of darkness. 

 It begins with each of us creating good news for others and pleasing our heavenly Father.  If our deeds do not represent compassion, grace, forgiveness, understanding, love, and faith, we will never be great nor worthy of someone holding a door open for us to escape a storm. 

Forgiveness and the ability to change is good news!

Our faith is not only about our religion.  It is about our love and understanding of God.  We can go to a worship service every time the doors open, but it is a waste of time if we don’t use what we learn there daily.   Remember, God watches not how we sit in the pews but how we walk among the crowds.

So, forgive me if I sound preachy; I am nothing but a sinner.  Most of the mistakes I make are because I didn’t return the cart in the rain, so to speak.  I didn’t put the love of God or others before myself.  

If all sinners join hands and use our faith to guide us to follow His words, we can escape the storms.

And that’s the good news!

For several years, I have grieved, stewed, yelled, and prayed over the state of our states.  I have read, studied, and written about the effects of hatred, division, anger, and distrust.  Somedays, I am disheartened by how some folks value politics, conspiracies, and money more than they do living a loving, compassionate life.  Which, to me, is an affront to God. 

One of my editors recently told me after I sent her my weekly column, “Lynn, if you need a break, please take one.”  She must have read between the words that the state of our states was really getting to me.  Even though I tried to mask much anguish by providing encouraging words, it wasn’t hiding from her skills as an editor and friend.

Our tension and despair can hurt much more than our state of mind; it can affect all of us physically.  Here I am today, hooked up to the heart monitor to see if my electrical system is off, and if that’s not it, then I am just as I have always been: a bit off. 

“Have you been stressed more than normal?” My doctor asked recently.  The simple answer was, “Yes!”  Sometimes, until someone asks, you don’t realize how much life has worn you down or thrown too many curves.

From family issues to the chronic and caustic state of our states, politicians, and government, we could all use a heart monitor to see if we are still ticking.  Or better yet, to see if our hearts are in the right place. 

Courage to face heartache

While lying in the hospital a week ago, I tried to avoid the news but couldn’t help but notice a little girl standing alone in the middle of ruins and ash in the streets of her bomb-riddled Ukrainian village.  It bothered me so badly that I changed the channel to watch football playing in a dome in America. 

The stark contrast hit me like a ton of bricks.  Today, some no longer want to help Ukraine because of the money spent.  I understand the many arguments, but will we advance as a nation if we do not provide aid?  How do we ignore such grief because we prefer to switch channels and enjoy a football game, a rocket ride, or play the stock market?

When Putin’s Russia initially attacked Ukraine, we flew to their rescue.  I naively thought this might bring us together as a nation.  Unite us in a concentrated effort to help someone else endure a crisis.  Americans do not understand such horror because we are blessed not to live where bombs fall around us. 

 Giving to someone does put our hearts in the right place, but politics and money now dampen the resolve today.  It is easy to change the channel when we are tired of witnessing daily horrors abroad.    

To continue to aid Ukraine may not be the most economically feasible thing to do, but is it the right thing to do?  Yes.  Do we feel good when we turn our attention away from others’ pain?  No.

Repeating history?

 Avoiding and ignoring dictators, bullies, and the antics of those who crave power has advanced depravity.  How many millions died at the hands of Hitler before we united to defeat a monstrous killer?  Such evil power only falls when met with a greater force.

History has a unique way of repeating itself, doesn’t it?  Could it be God must keep reminding us of what is more valuable, our hearts or our wallets?  We know the answer; it’s just our minds that get in the way.

 I notice the stress from daily turmoil is ebbing when I turn my back on the trouble, but should I?  No.  With courage, I must again watch the little girl on the streets alone.   

She must be searching for something extraordinarily tiny and valuable among the ashes.   All she knows is that her school, church, and home are gone, but she keeps digging to find what someone stole. 

The scarf tied around her head is soaked from the steady rain, yet she has no safe shelter nearby.  She prays as she looks to the gray sky as if God will give her a clue to locate the object of her search. 

Hope is a difficult thing to find when all you have is gone. 

“But if someone has material possessions and sees a brother or sister in need but refuses to help – how can the love of God dwell in a person like that?”  1 John 3:17

Our brothers and sisters live far beyond our shores in a place where a child walks alone among the ruins.  The love of God must continue to dwell in the hearts of America. 

I am writing to you from a room that needs refreshing.  The paint color is not horrible, but some of it is gone.   I would get right to work if I had a bucket of good latex.  However, applying putty to fill many nail holes and climbing a ladder from a hospital bed is problematic.  When one is imprisoned and chained to hoses, wires, and whatever that thing is above me, forget doing anything.   Trust me, I tried escaping, but sirens blared, and police dressed in scrubs quickly cuffed me.  Darn.

Everything was just fine Saturday morning after a great night’s sleep.  My day was planned to the minute.  First, I would exercise with the girls in my garage gym, change bed lines, do laundry, and wash my hair.   I couldn’t wait till the evening when I was to meet old friends at a charity benefit.

However, I never returned to the house to accomplish a thing.  I, instead, made it to the back of an ambulance with a handsome young paramedic named Ian.

The last minutes of our exercise routines usually require mat work.  After doing a few without a problem, I suddenly became faint.  Couldn’t get my head together to save my life.  I would almost pass out whenever the girls tried to sit me up.   My friends and husband grabbed a blood pressure cuff to check the numbers. 

I don’t have high blood pressure, but for some strange unknown reason, it decided to blast to the moon for a visit with ET.  Trust me, rocket rides are not for the faint of heart… literally.

Life’s rude interruptions

So, Ian and his ambulance, a fire truck, and a few strange men and women found themselves at my gym.  Poor things lifted me onto a gurney, and I pray they have a stash of Ben Gay in their homes. 

Uh-Oh!  Now, folks were coming at me with needles, machines, dye, and other contraptions I cannot explain.   I learned quickly that a patient defying the norm requires many tests.  I now have sincere empathy for the mighty lab rat. 

Doctor after doctor asked the same questions; they seemed more bumfuzzled each time.  One brilliant one said it could be related to “old age.”  He is now in the room beside me, suffering from well-placed punches.   “Sorry ’bout that, Doctor Young’un.”

No, it doesn’t appear I will be “moving on up to the deluxe apartment in the sky” just yet, but who knows when our show will be canceled.  I understand now that most things we go through have a purpose. 

Life is full of watershed moments, and this could be one.  I have always been a strong caretaker, and the thought of needing aid was unthinkable.  Nope, it will never happen; I was invincible.  Why else would I keep lifting weights?

To tell me to slow down is perfectly ridiculous, but for a minute or two, the scrub police say I must.  Darn.

Yep, just a mortal

But, alas, I realize I am the same as everyone else.  We can fall, fail, fumble, or faint at any moment.  And when we do, we need help, even when we hate to ask. 

I know life does not last forever, but when there are wires, tubes, and peeling paint around you, it puts an exclamation point on it.  So, we must live it to the fullest while we are well enough to do so.  And never take the air we breathe or the people we love for granted. 

Appreciation and empathy are born from experiences and mainly from the bad ones.  I now have an intense desire to free a lab rat.

As I stare at the ceiling tiles, I hope at the end of my life journey, I find someone’s life was touched by my words, been forgiven by those I hurt, and tossed a dose of kindness into the air.  Most of all, I pray that God smiles when He greets me at the deluxe apartment in the sky.

So, this whole experience humbles me to remember that I am but a speck on earth, like everyone else who exists for a moment in time.  We must live, love, and learn till the end and make our hours count for the good of all.

“How do you know what is happening tomorrow?  For the length of our lives is as uncertain as the morning fog… now you see it; soon it is gone.” James 4:14

Recently, a bout of sleepless, restless, nightmare-filled nights accompanied me to bed.  I am not a huge worrier, but lately, fretting, anger, and anxiety have chosen to rest on my soul, especially when I desire to sleep!  Not fair!

Other than our personal journeys today, we are citizens of a country that appears all discombobulated.  Some folks seek calm, while others stoke fear.  Some work diligently to feed their families, while others steal for themselves.  While many preach law and order, some don’t trust the law.  A few believers in the Almighty hurl insults and threats, thus turning others away from faith.  And that, my friends, is just the tip of the iceberg in my sea of worry.

Am I losing faith in America?

“God, I need to rest, so help me escape the turbulence around me.  I know I will face its reality tomorrow, but I will accomplish more if you slay the demons ringing in my ears.”  I asked the Lord recently. 

 Sure enough, I slept well because He sent me to a place that gave me peace and assurance.  He transmitted me back in time to view how others survived sleepless nights and stormy days.

Tennessee 1810

The year was 1810, and Mary Polly was sweeping the floor of her small inn in the Tennessee mountains.  Her children made her laugh as she playfully shooed them with her apron when they ran around the dining tables.  She knew she would toss and turn with worry and grief later.  

Mary prayed each night, “Lord, please provide me the strength needed to survive these turbulent days.” 

It had been over a year since her husband, John, died unexpectedly, leaving her the inn and five small children to care for.  To laugh seemed like a guilty pleasure, an oddity, but she welcomed any joy.

It was a late summer afternoon when she saw a dusty covered wagon stop in front of the inn.  Two young gentlemen strolled in, looking for a home-cooked meal and a place to stay for a spell. 

 Like many others, they explained they were heading west to find good farmland and a new life.  Benjamin was the chatty older one of the two, and his bright smile and clear blue eyes radiated a gentle, discerning warmth.

After a few days, Mary was laughing more, and her nights were less restless.  Who was this Benjamin, and why was she suddenly excited to pour his coffee each morning?

Love conquers

Benjamin and his brother stayed on the mountain.  He and Mary  Polly wed two years later and began to live a life running the inn and farming the rich soil.  Their union delivered seven more children into the world, and each one added more laughter around the tables.

The family befriended President Andrew Jackson, who always stopped by the inn on his way to Nashville.  He thought Mary Polly prepared the finest eggs in the world, and he loved playing with all of Ben and Mary’s crazy young’uns. 

However, life was far from easy back then.  Wars, disease, crop failures, and uncertainty accompanied the family’s daily happiness. 

As the children grew, so did their restlessness.  Benjamin Walker’s family was always adventuresome, and Mary knew it.   Their oldest son left home to travel to the new Arkansas territory, and soon, wagon trains were journeying together, heading west.  By 1840, all their children were gone except for the youngest, named after their friend, Andrew Jackson.

Finally, approaching old age, Benjamin and his wife waved goodbye to Andrew and his growing brood.   The couple began the trek that Benjamin had started years before.  They reached the rest of the family in Arkansas, but within a short period, tragedy befell the couple.

Mary Polly died in 1857, and Benjamin followed her in 1859.  Both succumbed to disease and typhoid fever. 

The Point

Their frontier days were filled with angst, stress, fear, and sleepless nights that we do not fully understand today.   Yet, they boldly paved the way for us to follow.  Their lives inspired generations to believe America was the land of hope, faith, and courage.

Remembering the story of my heritage and those who bravely forged their way through the mountains and valleys to seek a better life, find love, and flourish encourages my confidence in all of us. 

So, the story’s point is if we go back in time and remember those fearless enough to build this land, we must be courageous and courteous enough to not tear it apart with our discombobulated, often ungrateful, hate-filled attitudes.   When we search our history, we understand that the love of country and each other will prevent us from drowning in a sea of worry.

God always pulls us away from the crashing waves if we ask him to calm the waters.

On a cold January day in 1946, their fourth child, a girl, was born in a one-room cabin in the hills of Tennessee.  More babies arrived in the following years, and the parents had little to offer their twelve children except for music, love, and faith. 

When the spirited girl with dimpled cheeks walked to school in her hand-sewn clothes and dusty shoes, she would often be teased and mocked because she was poor.  But even though she was tiny, she stood proudly tall.  Perhaps, her mama read the Bible to her youngsters each day, and her child recalled the words, “It is easier for a camel to pass through the eye of a needle than a rich man to enter the Kingdom of God.  “Those bullying kids were like the camels and would have trouble getting into heaven while she would fly right on in!  “That’ll teach ’em!” Little Dolly thought.

God must have looked down on the mountain child that day and given her a spirit of courage and love that would eventually change countless lives.  The Lord continued walking with Dolly, blessing her with a song in her heart and gratitude in her soul.

I was questioned years ago, “Who would you invite to dinner if you could ask anyone living in the world today?” 

“Well, I guess if Jesus isn’t available, it would be Dolly Parton.”  

Shocked at my response, they simply replied, “Why?!”

Something about her

I had left Tennessee when Dolly began singing with Porter Wagner, but I remember catching a glimpse of her on television.  At the time, I didn’t love country music even though I came from the land where the Ole Opry is revered.  It wasn’t the music that sparked my interest in her; it was something more.  There was something that I understood without understanding why.

Could it be because I sound like Dolly with the same Tennessee mountain twang that must form in the blood?  One cannot change it, and I have often said it would be an insult to my ancestors if I did.  Because we are nearly the same age, I have watched Dolly from afar grow from a little mountain girl to owning the mountain!

So, Robert and Avie Lee Parton’s girl became an icon, a movie star, a bigger-than-life presence, a builder of dreams, a singer/songwriter, an aunt, a sister, a wife, and a faithful steward of God.

Dolly Parton is one of those rare folks who doesn’t let fame inflate her ego nor allow money to empower her unless it is through philanthropy.  She understands that her gifts are blessings and knows how to use them to bless others.

 These types of people don’t spread gossip, shout, belittle, or shame anyone because they understand they are living only for a while.  They know they will go home where Mom and Dad are waiting, and the light shines eternal.  People like Dolly are brilliant enough to know it is not what you make of yourself on earth; it is what you give of yourself to all.

The benefits of being kind

Amazon founder Jeff Bezos recently awarded Dolly Parton his “Courage and Civility Award,” presenting her with $100 million.  Why would he give so much to someone who has so much?   He understands that a big heart will use gifts wisely, and a humble spirit will fly miles spreading compassion, kindness, and hope.  She has proven her worth by the value of her soul. 

If we want to learn about leadership and charity, don’t look much further than a tiny Tennessee woman who sends books to the children of Appalachia.  She aims to whip illiteracy and open doors for impoverished children to become rich with knowledge.   When fires flame, tornados or floods ravage, or diseases need cures, she is there with a pen and checkbook, a song, and a loud voice. 

Dolly laughs at herself and never at others.  She treats everyone with respect and knows the heartache and scars that folks carry when others are made to feel less.

No, we need to look no further than the Parton’s fourth child, who thankfully listened to her parents and believed God was the only way to greatness.  

Politics, policies, and trends change like the wind, but goodness and benevolence never will because God never changes.  

With her infectious smile, Humorous Dolly said, “It costs a lot of money to look this cheap!”  

Dolly Rebecca Parton also proclaimed, “If your actions create a legacy that inspires others to dream more, learn more, do more, and become more, then you are an excellent leader.”

And the Lord still leads her down the mountain path toward home.

While recently thumbing through my old Tennessee and Georgia high school yearbooks, tears pooled in my eyes.  Yes, they were all there, young men with hope in their eyes and their youth on the edge of disappearing. I wonder what they would have accomplished in their lives if they had the promise of a future.

 Would they laugh as I do at the silly antics of a grandchild?  Would they still possess the impish grin the camera caught in the 60s? Maybe Howard would have made it onto the big screen with his good looks.  Perhaps Bobby would be a renowned physician today, and Larry would have climbed up the ranks in his beloved army before retiring to Florida. 

However, the maybe’s left when they all boarded a military bus to serve our nation while a war escalated in Vietnam.  They, like so many, returned only to be laid to rest in their hometown cemeteries before they had a chance to see what could have been.

Bearing a scar

These young men joined the service as so many do to become soldiers of war.  They are the elite among us who, I believe, God anoints with an extra dose or more of courage.  These soldiers go blindly into battle to defend the land they love.  They steadfastly look out for each other and often give their lives to save their comrades.

The Vietnam warriors were no different in character and honor as those who bravely fought for our Independence.  They held the same gritty spirit as those who battled before them in the Revolutionary War or World War I and II, as well as all other conflicts.  Thousands of soldiers have responded to the call to serve, but the warriors of Vietnam bear a scar.

By the time our troops were pulled from Vietnam in 1973, over 52,000 young soldiers had perished.  Between 1964 and 1975, 2,709,918 men and women wore an American military uniform in Nam.  240 of them were awarded the Medal of Honor as Bobby Ray was for saving many lives, except his own. Of those killed in combat, 61% were younger than 21. Just out of school, just beginning to dream, just starting a future.   

Also, in 1973, America’s electorate was deeply divided, and some say the military was demoralized.  So, for those who returned from the rice paddies and trenches, ships, the skies, and prisons of Vietnam, there were no homecoming parades or bands of screaming, happy folks in Times Square to greet them. Instead, Vietnam was simply over for America.

Never blame the warrior

Today, those fallen Vietnam soldiers are immortalized on a wall in Washington, D.C.  For those who lost friends or loved ones whose names are etched in this wall, the war is not forgotten, nor is the sacrifice.   We are the older generation now, and our young faces are alongside those in the yearbooks who remain ageless. 

Today, 610,000 courageous Vietnam Veterans are still walking among us.  Of those who risked their lives in Southeast Asia, 97% were honorable discharged even though many were drafted for service.

Even after hearing countless stories of the heroism and bravery shown by our American troops during the second-longest war in our history, they returned home to be treated harshly by many for just doing what they were asked to do. Unfortunately, this response created a loss of self-esteem and grief for many young soldiers, leading to future deep-seated problems.  

Our worst divisive behavior is the scar of Vietnam.  The wound was not caused by the soldiers.  The injury was inflicted by the free citizens who remained on American soil that turned their anger toward those sent to battle.  

We can fairly charge those in government or politics for most anything but not the bravest, best, and the most elite among us. So we should never blame the warrior, nor the ones who suffer and give the most.  Nor the over 150,000 who were wounded in Vietnam, or the prisoners of war, or those missing in action.

Take the time to notice the brave soldiers

I look into the eyes of my framed Vietnamese doll my brother sent me in 1965.  She has my POW/MIA bracelet around her waist to remember another pilot whose remains were finally located a few years ago.   My brother lived until 1998, but his time spent in Vietnam was always fresh in his heart.  I, too, vow to honor those who gave so much to receive so little.  

Memorial Days will come and go, but this year stop for a moment, look around, and notice the brave soldiers of long ago and celebrate them.

Maybe it will help heal the scar a divided nation caused and remind us never to produce such a wound again.  

“It is foolish and wrong to mourn the men who died.  Rather, we should thank God that such men lived.”  General George S. Patton, Jr.

Comic strips often entertain us with not only a funny moment but occasionally the cartoonist will introduce a bit of insight within their colorful panels. Such was the case when Jan Eliot provided such wisdom in her comic strip called, “Stone Soup.”

One of the characters is Alix, a nine-year-old precocious girl who is sitting at the kitchen table watching her Grandmother rolling the dough for a homemade pie.

Alix asks, “Gramma, why do you like to make pies so much?”

Her Gramma explains that when she was a young mother, they did not have much money, but she and her husband had an orchard abundant with pears, apples, and peaches. So, when they could afford only rice and beans for dinner, what lifted the spirits of her family, was a delicious homemade pie for dessert.

After hearing her Gramma’s explanation, Alix replies, “In other words… before Prozac, there was pie.”

Gramma ends the story with this statement, “That’s what’s wrong with everyone! Not enough pie!!”

Growing up, I recall my Grandmother making pies to deliver to folks who were physically ailing or mentally going through a difficult time. She regularly baked my brother his favorite chocolate pie and would always make a blackberry cobbler for my mother when the berries were in season. I don’t think I ever visited her when she didn’t bake a pie out of love or compassion for someone.

I remember one summer day, my grandmother’s friend, Mrs. Harris, was ill. First thing on a Saturday morning, we visited Mrs. Harris bearing an apple pie full of concern and affection. Before we left, Mrs. Harris was giggling with her friend before hugging me goodbye.

The tradition of pie giving was passed down from those ancestors who resided in the Southern hills to hearts who needed a pie’s restorative power. Aunts, mothers. grandmothers, a few uncles, and even some grandpas inherited the gift of producing a mouthful of joy. My Granddaddy couldn’t make a pie, but he sure could mend a mortal soul with his homemade peanut brittle.

My mom could roll out the best pie crust on the planet. Plus, she had the artistic talent to create the perfect lattice top over her delicious fruit pies. She would serve them warm with a dollop of ice cream. Mom could dry tears and melt hearts with her delicious creations. I once dubbed her the “Queen of Pies,” and to this day, I believe she undoubtedly was.

Friends and family frequently question me, “Lynn, why do you insist on baking homemade desserts? You can go to Publix and get a great pie or cake and not have to go through the trouble!”

My answer is the same, “It’s not the same!”

Generosity, compassion, and joy are only found in the work you go through to create them. Not everyone knows how to bake a pie, but they sure know how to gather flowers, write a sweet note, or hold a hand. When we use extra energy to lift another’s spirit, whether it is through baking a pie or going for a visit, we deliver healing. When we go to the trouble to love, we give hate trouble.

Our world is a busy place where texting emoji hearts, sad or smiling faces, makes it simple to share our emotions. We are “convenient” happy. Whatever makes our lives easier is becoming the norm. However, our days will become more comfortable only when our society becomes a less hateful place.

A peaceful world can exist only through loving each other enough to create a pie made of sincere compassion, prayer, and understanding. Comforting another is not about easy, it is about sacrifice and empathy. There is no emoji in the technological world that shows the recipe for genuine kindness.

“Before Prozac, there was pie,” Alix declared. I suffer from clinical depression, and I understand needing medications for this illness. However, if my family and friends had been too busy to hug me, pray with me, or cook my kids’ dinner through some of those wicked dark hours, would I have made it? When those compassionate souls took the time to physically aid me, they helped me see a sunny day was on the horizon.

“That’s what’s wrong with everyone! Not enough pie!” Gramma happily tells her grandchildren as she holds her beautiful baked pie above her head. What if we brought a homemade pie of kindness to the table of hate and calmed anger with a dose of warmed goodness?

Then our Grandchildren would learn just like I did from my Grandmother; when we take the time to create love, we might just witness healing our hurts one pie at a time.

How do you love a child? How do you become the memory that makes someone smile forever?  Does your life exemplify your ethical beliefs and encourage children to follow you? 

There is no better honor than to answer the above questions with a “Yes.”   The greatest gift we have as adults is children.  It doesn’t matter if we are a parent, grandparent, aunt, uncle, or a child’s friend. To love a child and have the love returned is a blessing that is beyond all the riches in the world. Period.

John was three and watching his favorite grandmother make biscuits.  He watched as the flour hit the dough board and dusted the air.  She was talking to him the entire time and laughed as the white powder settled on his eyelashes.

John was having a lot of trouble with the name “Grandma.”  Since he was born with six grandmothers, he would get them confused easily.  Two great, great-grandmothers, two great-grandmothers, and two grandmothers all lived in the same town!  He was the first grandchild.  It was asking too much to remember them all. Out of all those grandmothers, he had only one living grandfather.

A solution

Suddenly, while standing beside his grandmother in her kitchen, he thought of a sound solution.

His coal brown eyes opened wide as he tugged his grandmother’s apron, “You gonna be Grandpa!”

 “John, I am Grandma, and he is your Granddaddy.”, she replied as she pointed to her husband.

“You Grandpa and he Granddaddy!” He emphatically stated again as he stomped away.

From that moment on, nine grandchildren and 18 great-grandchildren would forever call her Grandpa.

The name would also be representative of unconditional love.  A love that allowed her to be called whatever these children wanted to call her. 

Many people have crossed my path in life, but without question, I have never known anyone quite like Nancy Melissa Pugh.   

Grandpa didn’t just say, “I love you,” she showed it in countless ways.

There was nothing she loved more than children.  And we all knew that to be a fact for those of us who were in her life.  When she played or talked with us, she became our age.

She even allowed us to play with the wrinkles on her hand and make fun of her false teeth until she purchased new ones.  This humorous woman laughed at herself and was never embarrassed by any of us.

Teaching valuable lessons

I can recall many of my cousins and me being in her small home at one time.  She would play games with us all day, fish with us, tell us stories, and stay up long past her bedtime.

As tired as she was and even before she went to her room to join my sleeping grandfather, she would sit at the end of the hall and read her Bible. That is how she made us understand the concept of priorities.

When she played games, she would never let any of us undeservedly win. By doing so, she taught us to have the grace to lose and understand fairness.

We all stayed with Grandpa many times in our lives.  And when visiting, she would ensure she had everyone’s favorite food in the house.  She would cook until her old apron was soiled and dark to show that we were each special in someone’s eyes.

Her garden bloomed in July with white gladiolas that reached up to the sun.  Grandpa loved white because they were pure and heavenly. We learned by watching her that beauty would grow out of dirt, toil, and care.

She was a gift

It is hard for me to write all that she was and did in her 97 years on earth.  I could fill a book with words and stories about this remarkable, kind human being.

Grandpa’s laughter continues to fill my heart today.  Her hands calm my soul while her spirit still wraps me in unconditional love and comfort.  

We bring children into our world, hoping they will be perfect and amazing.  Instead, we need to be as close as we can to being amazing and perfect for them.  To make a child feel loved unconditionally and know we would rather be with them than do anything else is honoring God’s precious gift. 

Years ago, I could not decide what to give Grandpa for Christmas.  She had a history of gifts going in her hope chest to save for a rainy day. 

I decided to write a column about her and send it to her county paper in Tennessee.  The newspaper printed the story using an entire page. The title in bold lettering was, “MERRY CHRISTMAS GRANDPA!”

The name my brother gave her all those years ago was now a bold headline, which was as it should be.

For a child to grow up making us a headline in their heart, a love that will never die long after we are gone, is the best blessing we will give them and ourselves.

“And her children will arise up and call her blessed,” were the words on a cross-stitched sampler hanging above Grandpa’s bed when she left this earth.  No truer words were ever written.