Snow

I love the snow! What a thrill to wake up this morning and find a dusting of fresh snow covering my lawn! Here in the Mid-South, we don't get a lot of snow; it's usually more ice than anything else. It wasn't always that way.

I can well remember snows as deep as my Daddy's knees when I was a young child. Snow so deep that I couldn't walk through it, so Daddy had to carry me. Even then, I loved the snow. Daddy and Momma would bundle me up and set me out on the front porch of our little country house and let me play in the snow that had blown onto the porch. I could make snow balls and throw them and build a snowman, just as long as I didn't get off the porch because Momma was afraid she would lose me in the snow bank!

My little sisters and I would play outside in the cold and snow till our little mittened hands would ache. We would run inside squealing and Momma would remove our mittens, hang them near the old wood heater to dry and tell us to go wash our hands in cold water. So we would wash in cold water, squealing and crying out that it hurt our hands! Then, Momma would take us back to the living room and place us surrounding the wood stove and hold our hands out near it. Our hands would be so brightly red, it looked as though we had painted them Momma's bright red lipstick! They would burn and hurt for a bit, then they would feel all toasty warm again. Then, we got hot chocolate and a snack!

Those were wonderful carefree days of laughter and love when we didn't realize how blessed we were. Perhaps it's because all those wonderful memories are attached to the snow that I love it so much. I don't know for sure, I just know I love snow! After the storm passes and the snow has fallen, the skies light up and sun shines brightly upon the pure white snow and it feels like the whole world is pure and clean and fresh. It's like a chance for the universe to have a 'do over'. Maybe that's why I love snow so much. I don't know, I just know I love snow!

Throughout my life, I have always enjoyed the view of fresh fallen snow on the pastures and fields around me. I love to think of the families all snuggled in their warm homes playing games together and laughing. I love getting all bundled up in a heavy winter coat with gloves, scarves and boots and walking into the chilled air. The look of your breath vaporizing before your face! The crunch of the grass crackling under your feet. Everything about a walk in the snow energizes me. It makes me feel as though all is right with the world around me. Maybe that's the reason I love the snow; I don't know, I just know I love the snow.

At one of the darkest moments of my life, my Loving Lord sent a beautiful snowfall to remind me that He was there with me and that I could go on. It was January 19, 1995 and it was the day we buried my Maw McDonald. Maw was the center of my world since I was 8 years old. That was the age at which my Paw McDonald had passed on. I was his favorite and everyone knew it! I loved him so deeply, as deeply as could any 8 year old little girl love her Paw. I was so heart broken when he left us. It was my first experience with death and it was tragic.

After Paw passed away, my sisters and I became Maw's constant companions. We stayed at her house as much or more than we stayed at our own house. She spoiled us without shame! She also became our sitter, which only gave her more opportunity to spoil us. It was a wonderful childhood for three little girls. Where Paw had left off, Maw took up.

One Fall, Daddy and Momma decided to take a week's vacation and travel to Michigan to visit my Maw's brother, Uncle Buster and his wife, Aunt Mayena. Maw would go with us. It was fabulous! Maw, my sisters and I stayed up all night the night before we left baking cookies and making candy to eat on the trip! Maw was as big a kid as we were and enjoyed it just as much as we did!

As a teen, Maw was there for me. She bought me makeup and helped me convince Momma I was old enough to wear it. When I met my then future husband, she treated him just like one of her own from day one. She was the most accepting, loving woman and was an amazing lady all way round. When I got married and moved away from our hometown, she made the trip to visit with me every time Momma and Daddy did, always saying she had to come see her girl!

Then, when Maw became sick and her days were drawing to a close, she depended on us, my sisters and I, to help take care of her. We took our turns sitting with her at the hospital. Despite all our love and attention, her time had come to an end here and Jesus called her home to be with Him. When the day of her services came, it was cold and dreary outside and it seemed as though it made the heaviness in our hearts much harder to bear.

The service was beautiful because her life was beautiful. We gathered in the cemetery for the interment. The minister told stories of her special way of loving everyone around her and brought laughter back to all of us. Then, as the last prayer was uttered and the last flower was laid, as we began to file out of the tent, beautiful huge, wet snowflakes began to fall hard and fast. Tears rolled down our faces and someone said "Well, Maw's in heaven and she's telling us it's all okay and that she's happy and that she wants us to be happy too!" We knew that was true becuase Maw loved the snow, too!

Maybe that's the reason, I don't know; I just know I love the snow!!!!

My Daddy

My Daddy was always an enigma to me. As a very young child, my only memories of him are of him carrying me in his arms through the snow to his old blue Chevy pick-up. It's strange but I never realized until I was much older how safe I felt when Daddy carried me. Snows would come that would be knee-deep on him. Daddy would scoop us up, one by one, and carry us to the pick-up. Then, he would help Momma cross the yard to the drive. I don't remember the coming home part, just the leaving.

As a little girl, I don't really have memories of anything special he did with me or for me, just that he was always there. He was up and about the house when I got up and he was sitting in his favorite chair in the living room watching TV when I went to bed at night. He was at the breakfast table when we ate breakfast. He was out at work at lunch time. He was home and in the house by supper time every night. He sat at the head of our table and he thanked the Lord for our food. He never tucked us in at night, just sat in his chair and watched TV. But he was always there.

Daddy wasn't the type of 'hands-on' Dad that some Dads are. He didn't spend a lot of time with us, other than when we were out working together as a family on the farm, or when we were going to church, or when we were sitting in our living room watching TV. But, when you think about it, after all of that, where was there any time for anything else? He drove us around the country on vacation every summer. Momma planned where to go and Daddy took us there.

As a youth, he was even more of a detached Dad than when I was a child. He always said it was Mommas job to raise the girls and he would raise the boys! The only problem with that was, there was no boys! I realize now that he was detached because he didn't have the first idea of what to do with or for a teen aged daughter. There had only been boys in his family, and here he was living in a house full of females! He never commented much on what I wore, where I went or who I went there with. But, he was always there.

When I was 15, I met the man I would later marry. On the first Saturday that he came to my house to spend the afternoon, he parked his car in our drive, leaving his keys in the ignition. We were sitting in our living room talking and listening to music when we heard his car engine start up. Minutes later, we saw his car backing out of our drive, with Daddy at the wheel! He didn't ask or tell, he just got in the car, started the engine and took off! Terry didn't know quite what to think! Daddy was driving off down the road, gunning the engine and having the time of his life! Needless to say, Terry took his keys from then on!

Daddy was never the type to say 'I love you', but I never doubted that he did. On my wedding day, as we prepared to walk down the aisle, he patted my hand and said "I love you, Sis". My knees almost buckled from beneath me! Tears began to stream down my face. I could barely whisper "I love you too, Daddy". I will never forget that moment or the all engrossing feeling of love and acceptance I felt when I heard Daddy tell me he loved me. I thought I could be no happier than I already was; I was wrong because that simple phrase had multiplied my happiness exponentially! As always, Daddy was there.

Over the years as I grew older and hopefully wiser, I grew to love and appreciate Daddy more with every passing year. And Daddy found it easier and easier to tell me he loved me. The family grew and Daddy's ability to love and show love grew. He became a wonderful Papaw to my sister's children, laughing and playing and teasing them whenever they were around. Then, the great-grandchildren came along and he became Papaw Mac. He LOVES those babies! To see him now as a mature man in his mid 70's laughing with those babies and just basking in their presence is one of the greatest joys of my life. Through the children, grandchildren and great-grandchildren, Daddy has always been there.

A couple of years ago, Momma became terminally ill with renal failure. As always, Daddy was there. He took care of Momma and took on responsibilities I had never seen him attempt before. He did laundry; he cleaned some in the house; he cooked some. He waited on Momma so patiently and lovingly. Every time I was with them, I couldn't help but think "Yep, Daddy's here". And he was, never complaining even though he himself was sick. Always giving his everything to Momma. When it came time for Momma to say goodbye and cross over, Daddy wanted to be there so badly, but Momma left before we could get there. But, in his heart, Daddy was there; as always, Daddy was there.

Now, I look at Daddy and he's getting older and weaker, and yes sicker too. Yet, every time we're together as a family, no matter how sick he is, Daddy is there. Sometimes, Daddy feels like the only constant thing in my life. And yet I know that the time is coming when I will have to say goodbye to Daddy to. I sometimes wonder what life will be like when Daddy's not there anymore. It's something too hard for me to consider for very long because Daddy has always been there. And, in my heart and his, I know Daddy will always be here for me. His love, though so difficult to express for many years, remains constant and true. And, when he departs and goes home to be with Jesus, that will love remain constant in my heart. Because there, Daddy will always be.