You can call me "Mimi"

I've been called a lot of things in my life. My daddy always called me "Baby." (Kind of like Frances Houseman in "Dirty Dancing.") My sister-in-law calls me "Juanzko." (Don't ask!) My godchildren call me "Nina," and my sweet Suzy (who lives next door to me) calls me "Mammie."

I'm Mom to my son, as I was to his sister.

There's a little person on the way who I hope will call me Mimi. We found out in February that our son and daughter-in-law were having their first child! Needless to say, my husband I were ecstatic.

Like everything else in our lives, the moment we found out our little one was coming was bittersweet. For us and our son and now for our daughter-in-law, there is something missing in everything in our lives. It is, as someone wisely said at the time of Lauren's death, our "new" normal.

I held my sweet daughter-in-law's hand across the table with tears in both of our eyes. Those tears were shared by our little family. The tears were tears of joy and of sadness. But one thing we all realized was that this little one coming this year is a double blessing. May 9 will be the 10th anniversary of Lauren's death. Having this baby to look forward to takes a lot of the sting out of this year.

We began to think about how excited Lauren would have been about this baby, and about being an aunt for the first time.

I believe that Lauren knows all about her niece or nephew and that she is rejoicing. We'll find out which it is at the end of next month.

Until then, I will imagine what this little person looks like. I will think about the times when we take our grandbaby to all the places we love: church, the Grove, to visit family, to Disneyworld! I will marvel at my son becoming a father, and his little family growing.

Until then...

Please, Mr. Postman

The other day I read a story about a grieving couple who received a letter in the mail. It was a "computer-generated" letter from a company whose primary purpose was to sell something to the recipient. We've all gotten them before.

This one was particularly heart-wrenching. The letter was addressed to a Chicago area man:  "Mike Seay, daughter killed in car crash, or current business..." When Mrs. Seay saw the letter in the mail, she, of course, was devastated and traumatized. They lost their 17-year-old daughter about 11 months ago.  My heart broke into pieces for them.

I know how hard it was to receive anything in the mail with Lauren's name on it. It pierces the heart in a way that is hard to describe. Over the years, we have received things in the mail with her name on it. It is far and few between, but it still happens from time to time.

In fact, a day or two before I read the story of the Seays, I got a letter in the mail with Lauren's name on it. It still hurt. I think because it had been such a long time since I had gotten one.

The company apologized to the Seays, stating that the letter came through a third-party administrator. Mr. Seay did not want to sue the company, he just wanted an apology for this completely insensitive action. He knows that no amount of "damages" paid can undo the damage done, or bring back his lovely daughter.

I am praying for the Seays and for all parents who have lost children. Our journey is not an easy one. I have to rely on Jesus to carry me through every day. And He does.

"Blessed are they who mourn, for they will be comforted." 

The letter received by the Seays. 

She's back!

Well, here I am again, apologizing for not blogging. I keep stopping and starting and then stopping and starting again. But I keep trying, and I am trying again.

So it says in Proverbs 13:4, "The appetite of the sluggard craves but has nothing, but the appetite of the diligent is amply satisfied."  (I hope they aren't talking about food, what with all the New Year's Resolutions flying about.)

I think it really applies to me and my blog, though. I tell myself all the time I need to write, and then I don't so what do I have to show for it? NOTHING. Then I sit down and get "diligent" about it and I have something that makes (at least) me happy. It's therapeutic to me, and I refuse to do it from time to time. I'm not making any promises, but I do have a heart to try.

Our fall this year was super busy. We have season tickets at Ole Miss and tailgate with our friends every game. We've been doing that for years. After working all week, we cook for Saturday games on Friday night. We were not among the lucky ones who got parking on campus this year, so that meant we had to get there super early to park in Oxford as close as we could. Then we had to "drag" all our stuff to the Grove. This year, some lovely people decided to steal our tent and all our chairs. I hope they are enjoying the tent my husband and our friend David had to fix with duct tape.

This football season, we had a lot of fun taking David to his first Ole Miss game for his 40th birthday. He had a blast and seeing him happy made me happy! He is going to an Ole Miss basketball game with us in January. We will have a great time, I know.

I also got the chance of a lifetime at one of our games. I met one of my personal heroes, Lino Rulli (The Catholic Guy). He and his college buddies pick one college game to go to each year, and this year he chose Ole Miss.  I've been listening to him every day for almost 5 years on SiriusXM's Catholic Channel.

I can say with complete honesty that I have learned more about my faith from this crazy guy from Minnesota than I learned in the first 25 years I have been in the Church. It's ridiculous I know, but it's true. (He does have a Master's in Theology). He has three Emmys and several other awards to his credit, and delights in making fun of the size of his own nose, and his own shortcomings. He is charming and genuine in person, and to spend a few minutes with him made me so happy!

We ran full steam at work from September to December with football games, concerts, a play, a two scholarship receptions, homecoming and just everyday campus events to cover.

I am playing at mass again so throw in Advent, Holy Days, Guadalupe (had to learn 4 songs in Spanish) and Christmas and you've got one tired girl.

So I am not making excuses for not writing, because there is no real excuse. I am endeavoring to do better in 2014. I don't like to make resolutions, I like to try each day to reach the goals I have set for myself, and that's what I intend to do this year. Just try to do the things I think God wants me to do.

My friend David and me in the tent before the game.

After emailing all day, Lino and I met in front of the Union.

Reflections on Rome (1 year later) and other things...

Wow. It's hard for me to believe it has been a whole year since my husband and I spent our anniversary in Rome. I still look longingly at our pictures and wish I was back there again. I do vow to go back one day, and he has come to grips with that I think.

I don't know exactly what happened to me when I was there, but I grew so much in my faith in the months leading up to the trip and since then, I don't quite know how to explain it. Now that is not to say I am anywhere NEAR where I really need to be faith-wise. Far from it. But I think learning about the travels of the apostles and the early Christians there in Rome and then going to the places St. Peter and St. Paul walked and where they lost their lives for the faith really left a profound impression on my soul.

I have busied myself since my trip watching every documentary and movie I can get my hands on about the apostles and the saints. I love the stories and have really enjoyed learning as much as I can. That is a never-ending process, however, I have discovered. I think I have exhausted Netflix and I'm going to have to look elsewhere for some more. I really would like to learn more about St. Augustine, St. Thomas Aquinas, and a plethora of the other saints I have not yet studied.

I haven't written in a while, so I really feel like I should talk about the other things that have been going on. Last I wrote, I was talking about Eric, who we lost in a horrible accident at the end of July. It really affected our little town and the people who loved him.

About a week after Eric died and was buried, I went to the cemetery to visit Lauren's resting place, as I do about twice or three times a month. I usually place purple and lavender flowers on her gravesite in August, in honor of her brother and sister-in-law. They had those colors in their wedding two years ago, and I did that then. Aaron and Anna seemed to like that idea, so a little tradition was born.

Anyway, I knew Eric was buried in the same graveyard, and I had heard that he was close to Lauren, but when I got there I discovered he is literally next to our family plots. I saw his wife Angie and daughter Christie a few weeks later and when I remarked on that, Christie smiled and said, "We chose that spot to be close to Lauren on purpose." Wow. That really blew me away. I visit him and my sweet little friend Hanna's baby son Hayden, who is also nearby, every time I am there. I know that those families visit Lauren too. It does me good to know that for some reason.

I had the opportunity in August to share with the Northwest Foundation board about Lauren's scholarship. One of Lauren's favorite teachers and her principal are both members of the board. I was thrilled to talk to them and tell her story to those who did not know her, and just to let them know, from the donor's standpoint, how much those scholarships mean to us. It was a great honor to be asked to do that. Our foundation does such great work and to be able to help a student in our daughter's name is very healing for us.

It is time for our scholarship ceremony and reception next Monday. We have a wonderful young man, Michael Wooten, as our recipient this year. He is a drummer who is studying Automotive Technology at the college. He was so happy to get the scholarship. I met him the day he got it and he told me he had seen Lauren's picture in the band room at school. He is really a snare drummer, and when they told him they needed him to play bass drum instead, he was happy to do so. Great kid. So we'll sit with him and get to know him, and tell him what a wonderful girl our Lauren was.

Michael and me at the band's debut "on the lawn" this August. 

In memory of Eric Lentz

Today, we lost a great guy in our small town. He was on his way home on his motorcycle, and there was an accident.

Eric had worked as a highway patrolman for many years. A few years back, he had worked for the Mississippi Bureau of Narcotics, and had done his part to get drugs off the streets.

He was one of those guys you never forgot after you once met him. He was from New York, and had that "Brooklyn" accent.  Sometimes he used colorful language that would make my face turn red, but he always made me laugh. He was a real character. Once you got to know him, you looked forward to hearing what he might say next.

Eric loved women. Simple as that. He appreciated women. He made you feel like you were the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen. He just had that way about him. But you always knew that there were two women he truly loved: his lovely wife Angie and his precious daughter Christie. Those were the most important women in his life, and he cherished both of them.

We were both regular blood donors and used to run into each other at the local blood bank, which is no longer here. Eric would come in and as I like to say, "hold court" in there till he had us all in stitches. Everybody loved it when he was there.

He was serious about his work with the bureau of narcotics. He and I worked together on an article on the growing problem of crystal meth in our area. He was very proud to have contributed to that article, hoping to make people aware of this terrible problem. I believe he wanted to do his part to stop the madness he saw, to make the streets safer for his children and for all of our children. He worked undercover for a while, and even changed his appearance somewhat. I teased him that the minute he opened his mouth, anyone would know he wasn't "from around these parts."

He was proud of his beautiful son, Tony. I said he was Eric's "mini-me." I think as we watch Tony grow, that prediction will come true. You could see how much the two of them loved each other.

Eric was a true friend. He never said much to me when I lost Lauren, probably because it was too painful for him. He loved his children and was a wonderful father. I think he imagined what I might be feeling as a parent. He would just give me a hug, or text me and say hi.

I have seen him over the years from time to time in WalMart, at church, at high school foottball games and around town. My husband and I ran into him about two weeks ago in WalMart. He greeted me as he always did, with a hug and a kiss on the cheek. We had a great talk, as we always did.

I am praying for Angie, Christie and Tony today, and will continue to pray for them and for all of their family. I am also praying for the young man who was in the other vehicle, too. This tragedy has touched many people in our small town. The people here will embrace these families and comfort them the way they did for us when we lost our daughter. That's what the people here do.

I'll miss you, Eric. I pray Lauren was there to greet you and thank you for being a good friend to her mom. You were a special person. You showed through your life what a man should be - strong, courageous, loving and caring toward others. You were a role model for how a husband should love his wife and how a father should love his children.

I'll always remember you.

"Eternal rest grant unto him, O Lord, and let perpetual light shine upon him. May the souls of the faithful departed, through the mercy of God, rest in peace. Amen."

Instant Replay!

Hi- Yesterday the Gospel reading at Mass recounted the story of the Good Samaritan. It reminded me of a story from my childhood. My mother did her share of "preaching" to us, but showed us a lot by her example through her compassion for others, and most particularly for people who were poor or downtrodden. While she was not a "church-going" lady, and was a bit of a Bohemian, she was still as good as gold. Her birthday is coming up in a couple of days, so I thought today would be a good day to share this story again - LaJuan

The Samaritan Towel

Mama loved that towel. It sat in a place of glory along the back dash of her baby blue 61 Ford Fairlane and we were not allowed to touch it. Even on cool summer nights sitting in the back seat when she drove with all four windows down. We better not touch that beach towel.

It was all different shades of blue set in a mosaic pattern. Blue like her eyes and like her car. Her favorite color. For some reason, she thought it dressed up her car.

Mama was a waitress in a small, but popular diner in Spartanburg. In those days, waitresses wore starched white uniforms that made them look like nurses almost. Mama never left the house unless her uniform was bright and clean, her hair was all in place, and her make-up was immaculate. She looked like a million dollars when she left for work every day.

One day as she drove along Hwy 176, she was past Pacolet, and approaching Glendale when she noticed a figure lying on the opposite side of the road. People were passing him by and not stopping. Not being able to stop in time, she turned around and went back to see if he was ok. When she got there she realized why no one was stopping.

There was no blue on the man lying there. Only the brown of his chocolate colored skin and the red from the blood that had soaked through his clothes from the wounds. She knelt down and realized he was still alive. In a flash, she decided what to do. She ran to the car, grabbed the beloved towel and covered him with it. Telling him to hang on, she ran across the road to her cousin's roadside stand and called the police and ambulance. She called her boss and told her she'd be late. Then she went back to wait with the man. Her towel was no longer clean and blue, and her uniform no longer starched white.

Once the ambulance came, she turned back, went home changed clothes and went on back to work. As the months went by, she never worried about her towel anymore. We did wonder what happened to the man.

That could have been the end of this story, but it wasn't. A few months later, there was a knock at the back door. When I went to the door, there was a family standing there. The lady held a beautiful chocolate cake, and the man held a towel with all different shades of blue set in a mosaic pattern. The two kids looked scared to be there. I called for Mama to come.

The man started to thank her, and Mama stopped him short. "Our friends come to the front door," she said. When the man started to protest, she repeated her statement and closed the door. A few minutes later, there was a knock at the front door and there they stood. She invited them in, and made a pot of coffee for the adults to enjoy with their chocolate cake. The kids all had milk and cake.

I never knew the man's name. I never saw him again that I can remember. The only thing I remember is that my mama loved that towel, but not so much that she would not stop to help a stranger, no matter who he was.

Message from a friend...

I had a message from my friend Rick today. We knew each other before he suffered the loss of his Kayla, but became much closer after her tragic accident.

Just like us, Rick and his wife had two beautiful children. We had known each other professionally, but not personally. When I heard about Kayla, I wrote a letter to Rick and ever since then, we have become very good friends. We see each other at events pretty regularly. I have only had the chance to meet his lovely wife once, but Richard and I see Rick pretty often. 

The message he sent me was about a mutual friend of ours who lost his battle to cancer today. It just so happens that this gentleman, who was Rick's friend, married a good friend of mine two years ago. My friend had mentioned to me in passing that her new husband lost his young son in a car accident, but it had happened more than 20 years ago. I never got a chance to talk to my friend's husband, and I always wanted to. 

Rick had visited our friend the day before he died. He did not know whether I knew about his having lost a son so long ago. His words were simple, but profound. "A reunion has occurred." 

A reunion has occurred. Wow. I replied that I was jealous of that reunion and I am. I told him that my longing for heaven is sometimes overwhelming to me. Then I remember my son and daughter-in-law and my husband and chide myself for being selfish. 

I think it is selfishness on my part to some extent, but I think it is also the longing of every Christian to go home to be with the Lord.  

St. Paul writes in 2 Corinthians 5:2 “For in this tent we groan, longing to be further clothed with our heavenly habitation.”

He continues, “So we are always courageous, although we know that while we are at home in the body we are away from the Lord, for we walk by faith, not by sight. Yet we are courageous, and we would rather leave the body and go home to the Lord.” 2 Corinthians 5: 6-8.

This weekend I will try to console my friend in her loss. Although she was only married for a couple of years to this man, I had never seen her happier. I hope she remembers that even though their time together was brief, she made him happy in his last years here on earth.