My Daddy

Years ago at a yard sale my family was having at my sister's house I overheard my mother talking to a neighbor lady who had stopped by to browse our fine, bargain-priced castoffs.

At some point the conversation turned to relationships between parents and children and my mother described how my sister and I felt (and still feel) about our dad in the following way. Pointing at a backyard building she said, "If their father said that building could fly they would see the wings on it."

My mother wasn't too far from the truth. There have been few times that I have doubted my father and most of those times were as a teen when I wanted to doubt him, but somehow knew down deep he was probably right.

My father is, as my husband has said to me many times, my moral compass. And as the Bible is his moral compass I feel I am being led in the right direction, not that there haven't been times in my life when I have set aside this invaluable tool.

"Remember, God loves everyone the same. Don't ever think you're better than someone. You are no better than anyone else. You're just as good as anyone too" AND "Be nice to everyone. You never know when that person you think you don't like is there to help you out one day" OR "At least it's paid for" are just some of the mini lessons taught to me at various stages of my life - that last one referring to a 1956 two-tone brown Chevy truck he purchased new of which I was morbidly embarrassed to be seen in when I reached those teen years. It wasn't so new then.

So, here's a few lines about the man I know as Daddy.

Married my mother May 31, 1951.

Yielded his heart to Jesus many years ago and never looked back.


Daddy to two girls, grandpa to five, and great-grandpa to two more.

Always there for me, even when it would have been easier not to be.

Driven to do good.



Generous to a fault.

Eyes of blue (something passed on to my sister)

Navigational beacon in our family.

Eater of all things sweet (something he passed on to me unfortunately)


Happy Father's Day, Daddy! I am thankful, honored, and proud to be your little girl.

My Mom Betty

Momma and Me - August 6, 1988

May 9, 2010. Mother's Day. A day when we honor those women in our lives who nurtured us through childhood and helped us become, for better or worse, what we are today. I had considered for a moment writing an eloquent "thank you" letter to my mom for all those things throughout my 40 years (and my sister's 56 years) she has done - all the times she did without so I could have, the spoiling she did out of a desire for my youth to be easier than hers had been (I think she may have regrets about the level of this spoiling though), the leaving of a job to be a stay-at-home mom when the money would have come in handy in order to be there to see me off on the bus to school and greet me when it brought me home, the clean clothes that magically appeared in my drawers and closets and the meals that always filled our table. Yes, there are many reasons for which I should honor my mother . My words, however, could never do them justice.


Therefore, a few simple thoughts on the woman who gave me life.

Marvelous cook.

Yielded her heart to Christ years ago and never looked back.




Ma - Ma to five grands and two greats.

Obsessively clean in her housekeeping - a trait that was not passed on through shared DNA.

Married to my Daddy for 59 years and counting.

Beautiful.

Ever there for me.

Temperamentally hot on occasion, yet tender-hearted (these traits were passed along).

Takes her card playing seriously.

Yearns for, at age 77, the health of youth.

Momma and me - 1970 or 71.

My parents still have this table and chair set in use in their breakfast nook and it looks practically new.

Happy Mother's Day, Momma! And thank you - for everything.