In the Mood

I don't understand whats wrong with me. I have a bad case of Christmas spirit. This is not like me at all. I usually dread the holidays, mostly the stress that comes with getting ready, like buying presents, planning for family gatherings, etc. I always feel this sense of "rush" or a kind of "harried hurry-ness." And it always bugs me that Christmas is all over the place as soon as Halloween is over. Thanksgiving gets tossed aside for the mad rush of the Christmas season.

But for the past few days I've wanted to Christmas shop, I've wanted to listen to Christmas music, and look at this season's newest in holiday decorating. I've even planned out my Christmas baking. I'm not a baker. I have a super cool KA mixer, that I've used all of about 3 times. I'm scared of it. But Christmas baking? Yep, its on my list. And, I've bought a few presents this week, and organized my Christmas cards. Yessirree, I've got it bad.

I hope its God giving me joy for a holiday season that I've dreaded, with a sense of sadness, fearing that it might be our last with Judy. I've wondered how in the world will we get through this Chistmas season? I've watched all our family, even those who live oceans away, planning to be here for Christmas, to spend it together, with Judy and her family. I've been overwhelmed at just the thought of what this Christmas could mean for us, and how we would handle it.

Yet, in the fear, God has given me joy. Joy for a season, for a babe who came for me, for us, in spite of death. Joy for a babe who conquered death. Joy for a babe, a man, a savior, who longs for us. He's a mighty God, yes He is, who can send joy to interrupt the sadness and fear. Only Him.

This is what it looks like around my neck of the woods this week. Autumn is in full swing in the Blue Ridge mountains of north Georgia. My friend Kathi, at www.lavenderlaceandthyme@blogspot.com and my friends Patt in Nevada and Char in Michigan are all coming in with reports of expected snow. Snow!! No, not in Georgia.

I'm not a winter person. I love summer. And I adore the Fall, up until about Christmas. But then, come January, I'm ready for June again. The dark winter months to me are just cold, wet, and depressing. The best I can hope for is a couple of snowfalls, which means a holiday, for a special playday in the south.

I do love the mountains in the winter, when the trees are bare, and hiking is invigorating. Your breath hangs in the air, and if you are high in the mountains, there might be a dusting of snow on the ground. But after a few days of that...I'm ready for spring again.

Right now, I'm enjoying the cool days of autumn, kissed gently by a warm sun, and the brilliant colors God has painted on the trees. Even through my front door, the colors of the trees outside reflect on the walls of my house. Its pretty cool when God sends us a special little gift like that.

Rock the Vote

I voted a couple of weeks ago, during early voting. I am soooo glad that I did. I read this morning that voting lines started hours before the voting locations even opened up. By 7:00 a.m. this morning, in my town, some lines were almost 100 people long. I hope people will not get discouraged, or tired of waiting in line. Voting is so important, and such a priviledge. This campaign has been so divisive, and so critical. So go out and rock the vote. Be patient, be congenial, and be proud!

Bookworm

My friend Jennifer at http://www.beaufortlookout.blogspot.com/ , knows me well. She tagged/awarded me this cool Bookworm award. How could a bookworm not love this award? Thank you Jennifer.

So here's how it goes. And, I'm passing the love....

Pass this on to 5 blogging friends.

Open the closest book to you, not your favorite or most intellectual book, but the book closest to you at the moment, to page 56.

Write out the 5th sentence, as well as two to five sentences following that...

So, the closest book to me is Dorothea Benton Frank's Full of Grace. I read that this summer but its still laying here on my desk. Page 56, Sentences 5 thru about 11 I think:

"The very first thing that struck me about Sardinia was its landscape. As we circled low and around, preparing to land, I felt like I had been thrown back two thousand years. Huge juts of granite, smoothed by millenia of salt and wind, lurched upward from the earth. Some resembled animals and others looked like objects. The landscape was craggy and arid. I would not have been at all surprised to see herds of goats or sheep led by ancient bearded men in long homespun caftans and turbans navigating the scrub growth and sharp pitch of the hills. Sardinia was biblical, exactly as you would imagine the world looked when Abraham walked the earth."

Now to tag my reader friends...

Sheila at www.lifeatnumber17.blogspot.com (cuz I KNOW what a reader she is)

Paula at www.virginiasweetpea.blogspot.com

Kathi at www.lavenderlaceandthyme.blogspot.com

Cathy at www.cathysoutjunkinagain.blogspot.com

Serah at www.honeysuckleandcupcakes.blogspot.com

It will be fun to see what books people have lying close by.

A True Belle

Southern Belle Award

To my friend Kathi at http://www.lavenderlaceandthyme.blogspot.com/

Kathi, I'm awarding you my first ever Southern Belle award.

Although you are a daughter of the North, the graciousness, the kindness, and dedication to family that you exemplify in your blog, as well as your comments to others make you a honorary Southern Belle. A true Southern Belle is warm as the southern sun in June, and sweet as a Georgia peach. She is as beautiful as a magnolia, and soft as the breeze blowing through the jasmine. Combined with those attributes, she is also as sly and sharp as a fox, with a wicked sense of humor. I know no other belle that is more deserving, and better fits that description than you. I'm mighty proud to know you.

Musings on an Autumn Day

I love the Fall. It is one of my favorite times of the year, right behind early summer of course. There's something magical about Fall. Its the smell in the air, of distant wood smoke, the earthy smell of leaves. Its the way the light changes and becomes a little brighter, harsher, and shadows are longer and darker. Its the way the breeze lifts the leaves off the trees and they dance as they fall to the ground. Fall always brings back the same memory to me, of playing outside in our large front yard while my daddy raked leaves, along with the other neighborhood men on Saturday afternoons. Radios blaring the Georgia game, with Larry Munson's voice booming across the entire neighborhood. Ahhh, football, especially bulldog football. Fall Saturdays in Georgia...like nothing else.

I'm afraid I've spent this Fall afternoon musing over deeper issues than leaves changing and Georgia football. Its one of those days spent musing "life" issues. I need to write about Judy one of these days. I just haven't been able to do that just yet. As though writing or seeing the words might make it all too real. But I'll get around to it....

Today I'm thankful for wonderful friends who are never too far away, and the "belles" who lift me up with prayer and encouraging words and laughter. I'm thankful for healthy children, who love their mama. I'm thankful for a husband who loves me and sticks by me, Lord love him. And, I'm thankful for a God who loves me, and supports me and lets me dump all my "stuff" on Him, and never seems to tire of saying "Give me the rest of it too..."

Yes, its a beautiful Fall day. Think I'll go up to the Apple Farm, grab a basket of apples, and do some baking this evening. Happy Fall Y'all!

My Mom

This is a picture of my mom, with her mom (my granny) and her sisters. My mom is the one on the end in the white sweater and dark scarf around her neck. From left to right, Aunt Sue, Aunt Dottie, Granny, Aunt Elsie, and Mama. Don't they look like they were just having so much fun? I wonder what they were saying and laughing about. They look so happy and so silly. I'm guessing this picture was taken probably in the late 40's or very early 50's.

I come from a family of very independent women. My grandmother was fiercely independent, very artistic, and I think way ahead of her time. She was a painter, photographer, and ran away from home at 17 years old to marry a full blooded Cherokee indian. Can you imagine the scandal at that during the days of early 1900's? She eventually married two more times after her first husband. Two of my favorite memories from her are the rose garden she tended in our backyard, and the smell of her oil paints and turpentine from her studio upstairs in our home. To this day the smell of paints and turpentine whisk me away in a second, back to that room and among all the colors of her palette and on her table.

My mom was also creative, a photographer, writer of historical romances (we always teased her about writing smut novels) and could draw beautiful pictures. She loved drawing with just pencil. She loved all animals, big and small, and we always had a house full of dogs, cats, sometimes even bunnies, guinea pigs, hamsters and even a chicken or two. She loved good books and instilled in me a love of reading and old books. She was so excited when home computers and the internet came along. She was writing her books on a word processor long before any of us even had home computers. And she was on bulletin boards and in chat rooms before I even knew what they were. She was cool like that. All my friends loved her. And later, after she died, I had friends that came up to me and shared secrets they had shared with my mom, things she had done to help them during difficult times in their lives, that she had never even shared with me, nor had my friends told me. I was amazed at her compassion that extended beyond what my family was blessed to know, and that my friends had come to know.

My mom would have been 75 years old today. I've always felt she left us way to soon, so full of life and vivacious. But I like knowing she's in heaven, and on my side up there, probably shaking her head in amusement and agreeing with God about some of the crazy things I do, and most especially about my hard headedness and stubbornness, probably laughing and getting a big kick out of me too. I hope so.

Happy Birthday Mama!