about giving people flowers...

My Grandaddy, my Mom's Dad, used to always say, "Give people their flowers while they're living." He was a passionate preacher and hard-working patriarch who did not take no mess. He lived by strong spiritual truths and convictions and he held up the plumb line for others as well.   Before I tell you about the flowers scenario, I want to make sure you know that my  Grandaddy was gangster.  Seriously. He was too legit to quit decades before M.C. Hammer was even born.  Let me share a few gems from the treasure chest of memories:

When hoodlums vandalized our church, he got on the news with his shotgun and said he would shoot the people if they came back.  He was not joking.  And he may or may not have locked and loaded his shotgun during the interview...

tulips from my garden :)

Early meant on time for him.  He worked a job for 40+ years and was late by two minutes ONE time.  Yes, late one time in 40+ years.   An accident on the freeway brought traffic to a complete stop for 30+ minutes and this is the reason why he was two minutes late.  You'd think one slip up in 40+ years would be acceptable, ok even.  No.  He felt like that was a mar on his record.  Anytime he was going somewhere, he left waaaaay early and had NO problem leaving you if you weren't ready to go.  He left me and my Granny *plenty* of times before we finally gave up on the notion of riding anywhere with him. LOL

He sang loud and changed the key of the song whensoever he pleased.  We were song-jacked in church all the time.  And like idiots, we would continue to start out singing congregational hymns in the key of G only to be redirected to the key of C whenever he decided to come in singing, which was usually around the second stanza. 

He would call you out in front of Jesus, Mary, Saint Peter, Joseph and whoever else was present.  If you were doing foolywank, he had no problem letting you know the error of your ways and that he would not and could not co-sign on your foolery.  He meant it in love, but that did not stop the sting of the truth.  

So now that you know and understand his gangsterness, let me tell you about this sweet, tender and endearing flower saying.  It is the ultimate challenge to express love and appreciation to folks on the daily.  A reminder to let people know how I feel about them and what they mean to me while the blood is still running warm in our veins.  It is a reminder that I do not need to wait until someone has passed away to declare my love and their importance to me because I can do this everyday in many, many ways.  All that matters is that I do it.  I really try my best to let people know exactly what they mean to me. That I love them.  Dearly.  When my Grandaddy died and when my brother died, we did not buy flowers because we had already given them their flowers while they were living.  

Why don't you give someone a flower today?  Let their heart savor its precious scent knowing that unlike flowers from the store, these special flowers my Grandaddy was talking about will last forever and ever and ever. 

pieces of me

This is my Grandaddy.  My Mom's Dad.  A picture (that I snagged from My Granny's album) taken in October 1966.  I remember him tilling the ground, planting seeds, watering and harvesting crops.  I remember corn stalks that seemed bent on kissing the sky.  I remember shucking corn.  All those doggone fine hairs!  I remember playing in the yard which seemed to go on and on forever and ever.  The joy of playing with my child in this same yard... of watching my child play with his cousins (just like I did once upon a time) in this same yard... The joy is inexplicable.  Same girl.  Same yard.  Different perspective.  

Today would have been his 81st birthday.  He's been in Heaven for 9 years now.  He was a preacher and hardworking father of nine (yeah, you read that right!) who taught me about God, the bible and hard work.  He taught me about avoiding foolywank, standing firm in my beliefs and telling the truth (first) to myself and others.  He taught me by example.  Grandaddy wasn't so much about talk as he was action.  Although this picture was taken many years ago, this is the way I remember him today.  Wearing his denim "overhauls" while tending to the garden after a long day at work.  When he took sick, I had been gone away from home for several years doing the college-working-married thing.  After a series of unsuccessful (botched) surgeries, he became weak and frail when he was supposed to be healing and recovering.  My family who took care of him during this time witnessed his decline firsthand.  I still have mixed feelings about living so far away during that time.  Not guilt but a deep and tender space for those who gave so much.  Gosh, I love my family.  We are not perfect, that's for sure, but we love each other unconditionally and as I grow older, I realize unconditional love is a gift that is rare, precious and full of immeasurable value.  

Happy Birthday, Grandaddy!  Say hello to Josh for me!  Thank you for pouring yourself into me.  Your influence in my life is still present every day.  Every single day.  From my faith and convictions to character and family values, your life is so much a part of mine.  I even find myself yawning in the same loud and obnoxious way that you did and after I'm done yawning, I always laugh and then smile.