I'm turning 28 in 11 minutes. Not a huge deal except that I'm vain enough to sweat the small things... like being almost thirty (I just heard my thirty year old cousins audibly gasping). But, tomorrow is my birthday...on your birthday, your grandparents call. You see where I'm going with this? Yes, I miss my PawPaw. And because I'm prone to introspection and constantly analyzing my inner dialogue I realize that as I get older, so do my children. Carly will be six this year and the last picture I have of PawPaw actually holding her, she was nine months old. She doesn't remember him. Or his truck that was beat the heck up. Or the cold cold creek. Or freezing rain beating you in the back of the beat the heck up truck on the way home from the cold cold creek. Or Harold dropping the watermelon at the cold cold creek and PawPaw chasing the watermelon, not giving a fig about Harold landing on his rear end in the mud. She doesn't remember Harold!
The thing is, I know in my head that we aren't long for this world, that a glorious age is to come and she will know them then. Still, my heart aches for our kids, all of them, who will sit at our knees and learn the stories of our time with them but not get to physically KNOW them. And Carly, who misses her Grandpa every single day. I'm having a hard time seeing through the pain of loss right now.
What I really want for my birthday is a belly full of love, PawPaw with a black comb in his shirt pocket, the Woerner whoop, a resounding blow to my kidneys, his joy in the presence of his great grandchildren and Joel's daddy to walk through the door tomorrow and rearrange my kitchen to HIS liking (even though that gets on my every nerve).
We always want what we can't have (I know I do). What would be truly awesome as birthday presents go is if our Father in heaven finally opened the door and took us all home for a big family reunion...forever!
I wonder if our glorified bodies allow for kidney pounding and if our vocal chords will still be perfectly attuned to the grit behind the Woerner whoop?
Ooh, it's midnight.
I'm 28 PawPaw. I love you and I miss you. You are a legend.
I'm 28 Harold, and I would love the be involved in pointless eschatological rhetoric with you today.
Joel's 27 now and I'm 28 Oldie. We miss you, we love you...and our kitchen is a disaster.
Tuesday, October 13, 2009
Friday, April 17, 2009
Azalea's and Pine Straw
It is hard to believe it has been a year since RW's passing. Sometimes I miss him so bad that it still feels as though it just happened. I am feeling so emotional even as I write this blog.
The azalea bushes have been beautiful this spring and every time I see one I hear his gruff voice saying, "Man that is beautiful". I laugh as I remember the drives around Centerpoint just to see the azalea's. He would pull into a random driveway and just sit there and stare.
I also remember that when he needed pine straw for his planters, he would stop at a strangers house and start collecting it out of their yard. I would say, "Paw Paw shouldn't you ask first" he would gruffly say back, " Aww they don't care, they don't need it!".
My Paw Paw, the boldest of the bold.
I miss you old man. I can't wait to see you again. I know you are happy and well now, eating all the peaches and satsumas you can stand. You were a great man, I wish my children could have known you as I did.
I long for the day when we will all be with Jesus and we won't remember the sting of death.
Jesus, hug my Paw Paw for me. Please.
The azalea bushes have been beautiful this spring and every time I see one I hear his gruff voice saying, "Man that is beautiful". I laugh as I remember the drives around Centerpoint just to see the azalea's. He would pull into a random driveway and just sit there and stare.
I also remember that when he needed pine straw for his planters, he would stop at a strangers house and start collecting it out of their yard. I would say, "Paw Paw shouldn't you ask first" he would gruffly say back, " Aww they don't care, they don't need it!".
My Paw Paw, the boldest of the bold.
I miss you old man. I can't wait to see you again. I know you are happy and well now, eating all the peaches and satsumas you can stand. You were a great man, I wish my children could have known you as I did.
I long for the day when we will all be with Jesus and we won't remember the sting of death.
Jesus, hug my Paw Paw for me. Please.
Friday, January 30, 2009
These are a few of my favorite things...
In these pictures you will see RW doing two of his most favorite things in all the world: Eating taco salad and staring. This is Josiah in September of '03. I had taught Josiah to raise his hands signaling a touch down whenever I screamed, "touchdown Auburn!" Not only had I for years opposed RW in all things football. Now his great grandson was giving him grief.
Oh, how I would love to know what Papaw was thinking...
meanwhile, welcome to the Woerner stare, Josiah.
Thursday, January 15, 2009
Imitating the Father
This week I imitated my Father.
Often when my kids were little and would get sick, Dad would bring them a goodie bag-bananas, oranges, grapes, Mr. Goodbar, stuff like that. I don't really know what it meant to my kids, but for some reason it mean a LOT to me. In watching Dad love my kids, I felt loved.
Several of my grandkids have been sick lately. I was wishing I lived closer so I could take them a goodie bag. But Monday I just decided that distance would not be a issue. I'm sure I'd never regret leaving work early, but I might regret not loving on my grandkids. So I left work and went to the store and had a blast getting some grapes, bananas, oranges, Valentine shaped Little Debbies and a few other things (I may have overdone it, but I'm still learning) for my sweet, sick grandbabies. I don't know what it means to them, but I sure enjoyed doing it and I think one of the reasons was because I was imitating my Dad. I just thought he'd be happy to see me doing that.
Made me think about imitating my Heavenly Father. Hope I can find ways to do that. Maybe He'll be happy to see me imitating Him. Maybe I'll even have a blast doing it.
Sharon
Often when my kids were little and would get sick, Dad would bring them a goodie bag-bananas, oranges, grapes, Mr. Goodbar, stuff like that. I don't really know what it meant to my kids, but for some reason it mean a LOT to me. In watching Dad love my kids, I felt loved.
Several of my grandkids have been sick lately. I was wishing I lived closer so I could take them a goodie bag. But Monday I just decided that distance would not be a issue. I'm sure I'd never regret leaving work early, but I might regret not loving on my grandkids. So I left work and went to the store and had a blast getting some grapes, bananas, oranges, Valentine shaped Little Debbies and a few other things (I may have overdone it, but I'm still learning) for my sweet, sick grandbabies. I don't know what it means to them, but I sure enjoyed doing it and I think one of the reasons was because I was imitating my Dad. I just thought he'd be happy to see me doing that.
Made me think about imitating my Heavenly Father. Hope I can find ways to do that. Maybe He'll be happy to see me imitating Him. Maybe I'll even have a blast doing it.
Sharon
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