Wanda's Wacky Wonderful World

  Butch was 12 years older than me – The same day I graduated from kindergarten - he graduated from high school later that evening.  Pattie was 10 years my senior and she was the spoiler. But it was Butch's goal in life to make sure I did not grow up to be a brat...  so we have him to thank him for my humility and grace. He taught me so many things.  He taught me to be thoughtful and considerate. He taught me that whatever I did, should be done with excellence.  He taught me to eat all the mashed potatoes off the spoon and not savor them one lick at a time.  He made sure to remind me that just because I was the baby of the family did not give me special privileges in his book - (although he rewrote his book as we got older and became best friends). Oh the many conversations we’ve had where he would vent - pour out his heart and describe all the details of his woes. I would listen - carefully ask questions to make sure I understood it all - and tell him to g...

  Help me! Life was probably more hectic and painful than it had ever been. Most of our days were spent back and forth from the hospital. My dad was in end-stage heart and kidney failure. Watching him struggle and knowing he was nearing the end of his days; we were determined he would never be alone.  We took turns spending the nights with him and worried about our little momma; who would rarely leave his bedside.   I breathed a sigh of relief as I settled into my recliner on this particular evening; I needed to unwind before I could go to bed. I had caught a glance at several texts from the kids and needed to read them more thoroughly.  We had five grandchildren and loved all the little pictures and videos their parents sent throughout the day. I giggled as I watched a video from Amanda. Their youngest daughter Sydney was strumming a pink guitar and singing her little heart out.   I showed my husband, Jeff,   and we watched it several times. Although we co...

There are moments in time that will forever be etched in my heart and memory. March 10, 2019, encapsulates one of those moments. Preceded by ten days of a thousand other memories that will both comfort and haunt that particular web of time, frozen in my memory.  "She's gone", the voice said softly. I honestly cannot even remember which family member's voice was on the other line. But I can remember the feeling that enveloped the car I was in, on that dark night... the gut wrenching sob that ripped from my throat... the vacuum that sucked me into a place I had never been. My sissy was gone. I was not by her side when she breathed her last breath, but she took with her a piece of my heart. A part of me that I have difficulty living without.  Her Love is one of my earliest memories. She was ten when I was born, so she spoiled her baby sister a little.   We shared so much, in our 59 years together.  My  Kindergarten and her High School shared a caf...

The Garden was quiet.   Daylight was fading. The sun was slowly sliding towards the horizon.  Resplendent beauty radiated from every corner of the Garden. However, the Creator was oblivious to the grandeur around Him. He stood alone in this plot of paradise for the first time since He had created Man. No one greeted Him that day as He entered. No outstretched hands welcomed Him. No glittering eyes waited eagerly to share the events of the day.  The curse of sin had fallen,  like a guillotine;  severing the innocent,  loving relationship  between Man and Maker.  It was a sad day. Communion was shattered. The Garden would never be the same. Gone were the brilliant mornings, filled with wonder. Gone were the timeless evenings of fellowship. Adam and Eve were banished and could never return. In fact the Garden stood empty for years. The Garden was quiet.   Daylight was fading. The sun was slowly sliding towards the horizon...

Tuesday, we buried my darling daddy. He's gone... at least his body is gone from among us. But the best part of him is still here - alive and well. Its as if he's just in the next room... or out Pawn-Shopping. He was usually the last to arrive at dinner - just trying to squeeze in one more moment of "living" before sitting down for the evening. He was bigger than life - he didn't fit here anyways. And his memory is GI-normous. It fills my heart, my house, my life. I see him in my children, my brother and my sisters. I see him in my husband - he poured so much of himself into Jeff. I hear him in my own voice - where does he stop and I begin? He lives... in me - through me and I will live to honor him. I will make him proud. I will not let him down.  I remember a time at the hospital, it was my turn to spend the night. It had been a rough day for him and he was so concerned that he would be too much for me. When I came in, he said, "I don't think you'r...