My Caregiver

I have always been fond of Little House on The Prairie. I love the books as well as the television series. The books varied from the series; however, it was always the appeal of a simple lifestyle that appealed to me. In the deepest part of my heart, the yearning for simplicity has always prevailed. Simple living did not mean that heartache and disappointment were nonexistent; however, it seemed to me that in living simply, peace was found in abundance. Isn’t that what our souls yearns for the most? Peace. The ability to walk through stormy weather and know all will be well. Peace. The ability, when all things around us are falling apart, to hold together. Peace. The unexplainable feeling when you know something is terribly wrong, but you aren’t shaken by it. Peace. Complete rest for our souls. Peace. The unshakeable comfort.



Living simply doesn’t mean that you are simple minded. Living simply means that you get unnecessary, overwhelming distractions out of the way and enjoy the day and all it has for you. Throw off things that hinder peace in your life. Say "no" to things that do not bring peace. Rid yourselves of unnecessary obligations that create worry and stress. Make the choice to rid yourself of things that are not helpful to you or what is helpful others. Lysa Terkeurst says, "Wisdom makes a decision today that will still be good for tomorrow." By doing this, we are allowing God a big opportunity to show up and show out.


From my earliest recollection of her, she exemplified peace. She sang "There will be peace in the valley". Peace was there. All around. From the positioning of their quaint house perched atop a knoll, to the rolling pasture complete with livestock, to the smell of bacon frying in the early morning hours, to the multitude of African violets in a magnificent array of blooms...always- every aspect of her life spoke peace. Peace did not allude her. Peace was hers. It belonged to her in every sense of the word. She was not wealthy by the worlds standards but she was blessed with a wealth of dear precious ones who loved her and loved her deeply. I was one of the fortunate ones to know her. I knew her well. From the time I was 3 months old until I was 15, she was my care giver. She was, to me, another grandmother. Although I had biological grandparents and she had biological grandchildren. She adopted me and I adopted her. She was as close to me as my own and I as close to her as her own.

One of the most fascinating things about her was that she was born in 1903 and her precious husband in 1900. Keeping up with their ages was always fun for me and easy. He was as old as the current year and she was 3 years less. She began taking care of me when she was 65 years old. By the age of 2, she had taught me many things about God’s word through her singing as well as scripture. Every day she would stand me in a chair and we would recite, John 3:16. Every day at nap time, she would rock me and sing to me, mostly hymns, but sometimes lullabies. One of her favorite Hymns was, "Revive Us Again". She loved the chorus and most days she would even sing the chorus as she watered and tended her African violets. Maybe that’s the reason for their ever present display of beauty. The chorus is, "Hallelujah! Thine the glory. Hallelujah! Amen. Hallelujah! Thine the glory. Revive us again." One day when I was about 3, I was at home singing, as I often did. My mom was listening and heard me singing the chorus but I using a heavy "r" at the end of Hallelujah. She asked, "Why are you singing it that way?" I replied, "That’s the way Mamaw Gillespie sings it." She said, "Hallelujah doesn’t have an r at the end." The next day, I walked straight into Mamaw’s house and told her, "My Mama said you were singing the song wrong. Hallelujah doesn’t have an "r" at the end." I can’t recall her response but I can tell you it didn’t change the way she sang the song. Not one bit. Not ever. Why? It didn’t matter to her. Her heart was so full of love for the Lord and what He had done for her. She didn’t care. All that mattered to her was that she was singing to Him and asking on a daily basis that He revive her and give her "peace in the valley" or "peace like a river." Her songs were prayers for her soul. She didn’t have to have the words perfect. Her heart was inclined, or leaned into, God and that’s all that really mattered. You see she just chose to be there in the moment. Her life was moment by moment. Day by day. I would venture to say she probably sang, "Every day with Jesus is sweeter than the day before."



Her life was a series of wise choices day after day.  She knew her place and she knew what she was best suited to do.  She chose to say "no" to things that would hinder her from being the best caregiver day after day, year after year.  She was a woman who exuded confidence in her ability to care for her babies.  That is what she did best.  To say I'm lucky to have had her in my life would be an understatement.  Blessed doesn't even seem accurate.  I am simply overwhelmed with gratitude and thankfulness that I was hers and she was mine.

　

　

Let's start at the very beginning

Oh how I love music, especially songs from "The Sound of Music".  I'm not sure if it's because my voice teacher, MaryAnn Cloud, made me sing several songs from the musical, or I simply am completely drawn to the story and the music every time I watch and hear it.

"Let's start at the very beginning.  A very good place to start...."

Like most babies, I came into the world screaming to the top of my lungs, now for those of you who really know me, you know how loud that must have been.  My poor mama and daddy were probably about to lose their minds the first time they heard that blood curdling scream.  Apparently, it didn't stop once they took me home.  According to my mom, I was a horrible baby, extremely colicky.  She said sometimes the only way to quiet me was to put me on top of the dryer and turn it on.  I cried pretty much all day, but lucky for them, I slept all night.

I don't know at what stage I finally outgrew the colic but at some point I did.  However, very early on I had some very aggressive and unusual behaviors.  Keep in mind, I was born at the end of 1968 and it was before the age of car seats. The first unusual behavior my mom tells me is about riding in a car.  One day she and my grandmother were going somewhere, probably shopping, with me and Mamaw was holding me in the front seat.  I started my screaming and could not be consoled until my mom said, "Mother, just turn her around.  She likes to see where she's been, not where she's going."  I suppose other babies did this too, but they found that very unusual behavior.

At some point, probably early on, I learned the art of manipulation.  When I didn't get my way about things, instead of doing the normal, scream and break them down till they give in, I would simply hold my breath until I would pass out completely.  (Side note:  Probably what's wrong with my brain today.  I cut off oxygen and therefore it didn't develop properly)  Mom said, she would always panic and try to keep me from holding my breath that long.  When she told my pediatrician, he simply told her, "Don't panic.  Just let her do it.  When she starts to fall, don't run and catch and coddle her.  Just lay a pillow where you think her head will land to break the fall."  She did and within a short period of time; I stopped that nonsense. Now, I'm not saying I quit using the art of manipulation, I just found other ways to get what I wanted.

I was also very jealous after my sister was born.  I was a little over 2 years old when she showed up and rocked my perfect world.  Up until that point, I was the princess, actually the Queen Bee, if you want me to be really honest.  I was the first child to my parents, the first grandchild, great grandchild, niece on my moms side of the family.  To say I was doted on and adored, would be an understatement.  So when Kristi showed up, my world got turned on it's axis and went into an uncontrollable downward spiral. (Sadly, this would be an area of real struggle my whole life, if I'm being honest)

Which brings me to the point of writing out my story....to not only help me to realize and evaluate my life and struggles; but also to give me a clearer picture of why I behave and act certain ways. It will challenge me to get real and honest with a lot of raw emotions and hurt.   Also, to allow, you my readers to understand a little bit more about me, my past and why I believe that God is supremely awesome because He picked up the crappy mess I made out of my life and is making it into something beautiful for His glory. 

The Proposal

If memory serves correctly, the closing on the house was on December 7th.  Thanksgiving came and went without a proposal.  Needless to say, I was slightly disappointed.  However, the Sunday after Thanksgiving, I was talking my sister on the phone and she asked, "When are you getting married?"  I told her that I was clueless and she asked to talk to Terry.

After a few minutes, Terry handed the phone back to me and she was screaming, "Oh my gosh, you're getting married December 17th!!!"  Stunned and a little confused, I said, "Really?  He hasn't even asked me, but he's already set the date?  Ok!" 

So I get off the phone and Terry says, "Well I had to give her a date because she's coming home from Texas and she wanted to plan her trip around our wedding." 

"Maybe he's not going to ask the old fashioned way and maybe he's not even giving me a ring."  I thought silently.  Oddly, I was ok with that. 

The following weekend was my birthday, but I was already committed for the weekend performances of the Messiah; so any celebrating had to wait. 

On Monday Terry asked if I would go eat with him at Red Lobster.  As we drove to Greenville, our plans for the wedding were coming together (yes still without an official proposal).  We were going to have a small family wedding in the chapel at First Baptist.

We finished our meal and ordered dessert, as we were finishing, Terry moved his right hand across the table and turned his hand over, revealing a diamond ring he was wearing on his pinky finger. Oh the elation and excitement, I thought my heart would pop out of my chest.  Then, he asked, "Will you marry me?"  By now, several other patrons realized what was happening, so of course, all eyes and ears were on me.  "Of course I'll marry you." 

And so it was settled...ring and all...December 17, 1994

The Invitation

“A little question, can lead to a lifelong calling.” – Clayton King

The story is one that I’ve told before, only not with the same connotation.  It was January 1994.  Six months earlier, I found myself divorced and raising 2 boys, along with the help of my family.  Fortunately, I was surrounded with supportive friends and family, and immersed in church activities, especially with the singles department.  In other words, I was content, not looking for a man to make me happy, rather focusing on my relationship with God, my boys and my friends.  In fact, I remember one day, while taking the boys to preschool, I prayed out loud with them, “God, I am content with what you’ve given me.  If you want me to have a husband and the boys to have a man in their lives, then you are going to have to bring him.”

Since, I was an active part of the singles ministry at that time; I was accustomed to making phone calls, writing letters, and visiting people. When I was approached by my friend, who would later become my brother and sister in-law, to call Terry and invite him to come to church, the furthest thing from my mind was a relationship.  I just knew that according to Tom and Marie, Terry had been actively involved in church at one point, but had drifted away.  They felt like he was ready to come back, but also knew that someone besides a family member needed to encourage him to come back. 

I accepted the task eagerly, without hesitation, and began making phone calls to Terry.  The hardest part was that initially he was never at home.  I ran into Marie at church and she said, “Don’t quit trying.”  Finally after about 3 weeks of failed phone attempts, I called on a Saturday in late January and to my surprise, Terry answered the phone.

After the initial introductions and the purpose for my call which was to invite him to come to church and try the singles ministry, we talked.  (Now for those of you who really know us, you will not find that hard to believe)  We talked for well over an hour and shared openly about our failed relationships and the effects those relationships had on us.  When our conversation was over, I again issued the invitation, “How about coming to church tomorrow?”  He said, “I will be there and told me exactly where he would be sitting so that we could meet face to face.

The next day, there he was sitting precisely where he told me he would be, with those adorable little boys, Brad & Zach.  After the initial introductions, he asked me where my boys were and I explained they were in the nursery.

It has been over 19 years that I issued an invitation to Terry.  I was not responsible for his response to my invitation; I was only responsible to ask.  He responded favorably and as a result, not only did he return to church and rededicate his life to Jesus, but in the end, he offered an invitation to me of marriage and my response to him was “yes”.

The point is this:  You never know how your invitation will affect someone else’s life and you never know how your response to an invitation will change your life.

As this Easter Season approaches, my invitation today.  Come and join us at Newspring for our Easter Services.  For dates times and locations please visit:  http://newspring.cc/easter/  

We will be attending at the Greenville location and would love to see you there. 

Newspring:  A place where it’s ok, to not be ok.  It’s just ok to stay that way.

House hunting & Ironing out the wrinkles

After meeting Thelma, everything started falling in place.  We started talking more about getting married and what that would look like.  The most important thing for Terry was that we had a house to live in, especially since our current living conditions would not make for a great start to our "new family".  (The boys and I lived with my parents.  Terry lived with Thelma)  Both of us knew that living with our parents along with 2 boys would not work.  So Terry began the house search.  Little did I know that almost every Sunday after lunch, we (Terry, myself, Ryan and Matt) would be riding around looking at houses!  Sometimes it was fun, and other times it wasn't.  Just ask Ryan and Matthew how much they enjoy "house hunting". 

Finally, after much looking and frustration, Terry found a house he wanted to look at but he didn't take me with him the first time.  The funny thing about the house and the whole reason he wanted to go look at the house was because it had no washer and dryer hook-ups.  In other words, curiosity got the best of him.  When he previewed the house with our realtor, the homeowner just happened to be at home.  Strangely enough, the homeowner requested to be present at all showings because they wanted to know who was potentially buying their home.  Of course, Terry knew the homeowners, not only did they own Miller's laundry (hence no washer/dryer hook-ups), but they knew me as well.  As Terry was completing his preview of the home, Mrs. Miller looked at him and asked, "So are you going to marry Kelly?  Is that why you are looking for a house?"

Caught a little off-guard, Terry replied, as only he can, "You never know."  (Oh my gosh, even writing this makes me chuckle, even after all these years.)

During some of our rather long conversations, we both realized we were carrying a lot of baggage from our previous relationships.  Things that he did or said would sometimes just send me over the edge and cause me to fly off the handle. One of the things that irritated me the most was when I was trying to plan something and I would say, "So are you coming or not?"  The response at least 95% of the time would be, "Well I might."   Which means "no" in Terry's vocabulary. It took me months to realize that he was very non-committal especially when it was something he really didn't want to do, and again I realized that he was so dang stubborn that I was not changing his mind.  Believe me, I tried every trick I knew to try to guilt or persuade him to do what I wanted him to do...nothing doin'  his mind was made up and it wasn't changing (guess that's where our kids get their stubborn streak ) Dang it, even the crying didn't phase him. (Revelation:  You can't put Terry on a guilt trip.  It just doesn't work. If anything, it makes him more stubborn and determined)

The problem with him being so non-commital worried me because I kept thinking, "Well, what makes me think he will commit to you and two boys." However, there was something even deeper within my being that told me "This guy is completely trustworthy.  He is faithful and he is committed." 

After another couple of looks at the house and  a few others, Terry opted to make an offer on the Longview house.  His offer was accepted and so now, he had a house.  To this point, marriage had been a prominant subject, but there had still been no proposal, much less a wedding date.  The closing on the house was scheduled to take place on December 7, 1994.

The first fight (Continuation of our story)

To this point, we had hurdled over meeting parents, my boys and Terry were developing a relationship. Things were going well, or so it seemed, until that dreadful day in June. Terry was playing in a golf tournament and then leaving afterwards to go to the beach with his family.

I wasn't really happy that he had planned to play and then leave because I knew that there wouldn't be time to see him. So, I did what I knew how to do best....pitch a fit.  I ranted and screamed and cried hoping he would see it my way.  No such luck, I had met my match when it came to battling of the wills.  He was even more determined than me.

So he played golf and then left for the beach, he did call me before he left, but I was giving him the silent treatment and highly determined not to back off my previous position, besides, I wanted him to know I was still angry.  I knew he was still brewing hot with anger too.

This was back in the day, before the age of cell phones, so I knew we wouldn't talk much while he was away on vacation.  However, by the end of the third day and he hadn't called, I admit, I started to wonder if my irrational behavior had run him off, but the next day he called.  Sadly, I was still very short and cold with my responses but he tried to keep the conversation upbeat and not allow the past to be brought up.

As the week passed on, I was anxiously anticipating his arrival.  When he finally got home, late in the day on Saturday, he came over to see me.  Finally, I was over my silly anger fit, but it wouldn't last long.  By the time he got ready to leave, he informed me that he wouldn't be seeing me the next day, at least not at church, because he was playing golf again.  I stewed. I tried to reign in the donkey, but this time, the donkey was coming at him full force.  (Honestly, he was probably laughing at my idiocy)  Still, I could not change his mind.  He had plans and he was sticking to them, no matter what I did or said.

So, when he left, I was angry and so was he, essentially a week had changed nothing.  Feeling extremely frustated, I decided to give him just enough time to get home and call him.  Fortunately, I calculated his trip home with almost precise accuracy and called at the right time.

Finally, after long silences and more angry words, he said something I will never forget, "I realize at some point, there will come  a day, when I have to give up some of the things I love doing; but now is not the time."  At that point, I realized that he was not only thinking ahead to our future together, but I was the one who was being selfish and unreasonable.

Finding joy in the midst of sorrow

Many valuable lessons can be learned from adversity that comes into you life. Just ask folks like Joseph or Job. Both men were faced with an abundance of trials and adversity, but it built strong character in each man. Why, because they refused to be overcome by adversity and they made a conscious choice to overcome. I think the appropriate term would be "perseverance in the face of adversity".

I must say, initially upon the death of my grandmother, I was overcome with grief, not as much for myself as I was for my grandfather, mother and aunt. My heart ached for them. However, several days prior to her death, my mom had asked if I would represent the family to speak at her funeral. Initially I wanted to say no, but chose to pray about it instead. As a result, speaking about my Mamaw was the perfect way to turn my sorrow into joy. In addition, my family, as well as those in attendance found comfort in the words God gave me.

As I was writing out my memories of her, I found myself laughing in the midst of my tears.  I was constantly reminded of how much fun she and I had together.  We laughed a lot.  I'm not talking about silly girl laughter, I'm talking the belly aching deep gut laughter that sometimes causes tears because you've laughed so hard. I believe my gift of laughter came from her.  I I was to have been a part of herealized too how blessed r life and had her in my life as well. 

I must admit, it was one of the hardest things I have ever chosen to do, but the reward of saying "yes", and knowing that God had ordained that moment in my life makes me truly thankful that even in the midst of my pain and adversity, I said "yes"!

Here is what I wrote and said about my grandmother:


The other day when my Mom asked me if I would speak today, I would have preferred to emphatically say no. However, there was a voice that said, “Tells her you’ll pray about it.” So, I did and here I am, talking to you about my sweet precious Mamaw.




There are many things most of you know about her like her quick wit and her infectious laughter. She adored Papaw and her family. We were her life. There was nothing in the world that she was more proud of than her family. Any opportunity she had to talk about her family she would do with great pride. She also loved the Lord with the whole of her heart and even with her dementia, never forgot Him. Many times while visiting her in the nursing home she would say, “I’m so blessed. God has blessed me so much. I just can’t thank Him enough.” She never forgot to thank Him before she would have a meal. In fact one year, for her birthday, the nurses brought her a cake, sang “Happy Birthday” but before she would eat, she bowed her head to give thanks.



In addition to all of those things, she was my grandmother with a big servant’s heart. She loved to care for us. When I was 13, I had mono and was out of school for two weeks. When my Mom called to tell her that I was sick; immediately she responded. “Troy and I will be down to get her in a little while and I’ll take care of her.” It wasn’t long maybe an hour or so until they came to Columbus and picked me up. For the next two weeks, I was treated like “Queen for the day” She was at my every beck and call. She made sure that I had a bell beside my bed, beside the couch anywhere I went there was a bell and all I had to was rings the bell and she would come running. “Honey, what can I do for you?” During that time, we started book reading together. I was bored and she had a lot of books, I told her I needed a good book to read. She came back with Not My Will by Francena A Arnold. “Oh Honey, this is one of the sweetest stories, I think you’ll like it.” She was right and that’s when we started our reading club. We read The Little House on the Prairie Series and after that we got hooked on Jeanette Oke Books. We read all of her book series, and then we would talk about the books. Most of the books that we shared were about all about relationships and family, the two things that she valued most.



In addition to being a servant, she was a doer. Her hands were constantly working either in the kitchen, laundry or writing cards to friends and family. She was a card -collector, not trading cards but all occasion cards. She had cards for every occasion imaginable, sometimes I think she even made up her own occasion to send card and anytime a store had boxed cards for a good deal, she would buy them. She received pleasure from sending cards to those she loved. Normally, when she sent a card she would send a little or long note and always a cut out scripture verse or a funny joke to accompany the card. It was rare that a card coming from her contained only a signature; they almost always contained a personal note.



She was a storyteller also. She would tell us stories of the old times. Oh, how she loved to repeat stories that had been handed down generation to generation. One of her favorites to tell was not about others, but one about herself. Or maybe it was because it was one I loved to hear her tell. There was a radio show that was one of her favorite shows called, “Miss Moodle and her dog named Poodle.” Ms Moodle was our modern day Mary Poppins. She and her dog, along with her umbrella would fly from rooftops to get from place to place to make the world a better place. One day, Mamaw decided that she too wanted to fly away like Ms Moodle. She packed her bag and umbrella, went to the upstairs of their two-story house, climbed onto the porch roof and got ready to fly. Down below was her bother Monroe, watching his sister mount on the roof, begging with tears in his eyes, “Please, don’t go Colleen. Please don’t leave.” She said, “Monroe, I have to go. I love you and waved goodbye” She opened the umbrella, and proceeded to jump, but found out quickly that the umbrella didn’t whisk her away, instead it turned inside out and she landed flat on her rear.



In her later years, I often joked with her saying, “You know that’s why you hurt all over now. It was the fall of the roof-top that ruined everything.” She would just laugh and say, “Well honey, maybe you’re right.”



One story she never told me though was about the big lie that she and my grandfather told, and it wasn’t until the other night, while I lagged behind to sit with Papaw on her last night, that I learned of it.



The met in school. They were in the same grade because my grandmother missed almost an entire year of school due to health reasons. During their last year of high school, they rode the bus together. She lived about half mile from his house and had to walk to his house to catch the bus. That is how their love affair began. By the end of their school year, they were madly in love and knew they wanted to get married. Not only did the state of North Carolina not allow a marriage between 16-year-old boys and 17 year old girls, their families would have preferred they waited also. They didn’t, they eloped and got married anyway. They took Mamaws’ cousin Velma with them, and took a taxi to South Carolina to get married. When I asked Papaw why they went to SC his response was “well it was easier to get married there”. After a minute or two, he said, “I became 18 quickly.” To which my response was , “Yes I guess having a baby within nine months of marriage did make you grow up quickly”

He said, “No honey, I mean I became 18 in a matter of a couple of hours.”



“Are you telling me that you lied about your age to get married.



He chuckled and said, “Well, I guess I did. It was okay that she was 17 but the male had to be 18.”



Didn’t they ask for birth certificates?



“Honey, they didn’t ask for a thing except our signatures.”



While holding Magmas hand, I said “All these years, all these stories, and never, not once did you ever tell me that you lied to get married.” At that moment there was a slight twitch of the hand and motion of the lips as if she were saying, “I had to keep something for Papaw to tell you” I just laughed and said to her, “You just didn’t want me to know that you could tell lie.”



Well, I have to say. I’m glad they lied. I’m certain that God wasn’t happy with them for lying but; He certainly looked on their marriage and commitment to each other with great favor. They kept what was near and dear to their hearts, each other, not frivolous material possessions, the relationship that exists between a man and woman wholly committed to their maker and one another. They were one with each other, from beginning to end. They spent their first night as man and wife and their last night together as man and wife. God word says, “Therefore a man shall leave his father and his mother and hold fast to his wife, and the two shall become one flesh” Genesis 2:24 and Matthew goes a little further to say, “And the two shall become one, so they are no longer two but one” . But on Wednesday at 12:39, they became separate again and he felt the separation, even though he had gone home to rest, and will continue to feel that separation until he rejoins her in Heaven. I’m so very thankful that their next meeting will be a reunion of a lifetime and he will never have to bear the searing pain of once again having to be separated from his one true love. Like I said at the beginning, she was witty and almost always had to get the last word in and did so even in death. The day she died we were gathered around watching her take her last breaths of life. When she breathed her last breath, we all cried, well sobbed almost uncontrollably with great sorrow. I had just about finished my wailing when I looked over at her and saw her breathing again. “Look, she’s breathing again” For a moment we all turned our eyes back to her watched as she again took several shallow breaths and then quit. Suddenly, laughter filled the room almost as uncontrollably as the tears. “Mother, you just had to get the last laugh didn’t you” I heard my mother say. Renee, our sweet Hospice CNA, said, “I’m sorry I should have stayed in the room or warned you that sometimes they will do that.”

“No,” I told her. God knew that we needed to laugh and so did Mamaw. That’s exactly what she wanted for her family, to laugh in the midst of tears.”



If I could put a quote on my Macaw in a few words, which is almost impossible for me, I would have to say that she laughed until she cried, and cried until she laughed.



The day of her death, marked in my bible were these words from Psalm 116:5 -15 “The Lord is gracious and righteous; our God is full of compassion. The Lord protects the simple hearted; and when I was in great need. He saved me. Be at rest, once more, O my soul, for the Lord has been good to me! For you, O Lord, have delivered my soul from death, my eyes from tears, my feet from stumbling, that I may walk before you in the land of the living. I believed, therefore, I said “I am greatly afflicted. And in my dismay, I said, “All men are liars.” How can I repay the Lord for all his goodness to me? I will lift the cup of salvation and call on the name of the Lord. I will fulfill my vows to the Lord in the presence of all his people. Precious in the sight of the Lord is the death of his saints.”