The Life And Times of “Eddie Girl”…

8 Enough? This Is Eddie’s Family…

Eddie and her crew,...

First row , second from right is Eddie, a little lost in that tribe she has around her!

The Early Days…

One of my earliest memories is walking to St. Dominick’s Catholic Church each Sunday with my older sisters. Rain or shine, dressed in our Sunday dresses and black patent leather shoes, we walked the mile to church. As we got near the church, we could hear the church bells ringing. So began my lifelong walk of faith in God. Praying has always meant a lot to me.

When my younger sister, Juanita, was old enough to go to church, our mother went with us. I remember one morning when we had changed our clocks, and it was still dark when we left but we kept going and arrived early.

My sisters were a significant part of my life. I was born January 10. 1923, the 5th of 6 girls, and was called “Eddie Girl”. My real name is Edvidge, after my dad’s sister.

Our dad, Edwin Berault, had a steady job at Stratton Baldwin, a downtown hardware store, on Tchoupitoulas Avenue. He was hired when he was very young and was reliable and good at handyman projects. After he built a wooden sailboat, he was called “Skipper”. My sisters and I enjoyed going on his boat, which he docked at Lake Ponchartrain.

Dad invented a unique safety latch which he presented at an inventor’s conference in Mobile, Alabama. He also taught himself to play the harmonica. I really enjoyed it when he sat down and entertained us by playing popular songs for us.

We all grew up in New Orleans.

Our mother, Victoria, was a good cook and made great Gumbo and Jambalaya. I wasn’t quite as fond of the red beans and rice she made on Saturdays when my Uncle Finn and Aunt Abou joined us for dinner.

Most of our family knows the story of the live turkey our uncle had delivered one Thanksgiving. That bird did not want to be our dinner and gave Mother a very hard time. When she finally succeeded in winning that battle, she had another ordeal pulling off all his feathers. In the end, we really enjoyed that bird . . . he was very tasty. But no more live turkeys. Even my own children have heard his story. Being an excellent seamstress, our mother made most of our clothes. She saved money and on Dollar Days took the bus (which was free on those days) to downtown New Orleans, and shopped in downtown New Orleans for material to make us new dresses. We were always delighted with the fabric she selected.

Juanita was born when I was four years old and Emma was a couple of years older. We were sent to stay with our Aunt May but did not know of the coming event. How well I remember just getting out of the bathtub when the telephone rang to announce we had a new sister. I was so excited and now eager to get home to see her. When we arrived home, I ran into the house as fast as I could, eager to meet my new baby sister. I kept wondering how that stork got her into our house.

Hazel, my girlfriend, lived right across the street from us and we usually played very well together and had a lot of fun. I say usually because we did at times have our little disagreements and squabbles. Then we each sat on our curb and made faces at each other. Sometimes I would sing-song loudly, “Hazel Teladana, rotten banana.” She tried to think of something equally nasty to rhyme with my name but usually gave up. We were sad when her family moved but then I began playing often with Erna, who lived down the street and we became close friends.

One day, when my mother was bending over our bathtub working hard scrubbing clothes, I came running in. My sisters and I wanted to have a tea party, so they put me up to ask Mother for a quarter for refreshments. They knew I would have the courage to ask her. When she stopped, astonished, to look at me, I thought for sure she would be angry, Then she said, “With that much nerve, I will give it to you.” So, my sisters and I went to the store to buy refreshments and came back to have a tea party.

As a child, I was very inquisitive. When I was finally “of age” to begin kindergarten, on my first day of school Maris walked me to my class. On the way. we stopped at a large, two-story building. I looked up at it and asked, “Is this kindergarten?”

“No,” laughed Maris. “This is my friend, Lorraines’ home.” Soon we arrived at Lakeside school and I happily walked in by myself. I was very excited..

About a year later, when I was in first grade, on a beautiful sunny day, I decided I did not want to be inside. So I climbed out the low, flat first floor window sill without anyone noticing. I walked home alone and enjoyed the lovely day. No one ever found out. Things were very different then.

When I was a few years older and attending Beauregard School on Canal Street, I got into the habit of dragging a long stick across the sides of cemetery plots. They were breaking apart from age and I discovered I could rattle bones with the stick, For some reason, I found doing that rather entertaining. Some of my friends found that creepy.

One time, when a serious storm was predicted with major flooding expected in our area, it rained for three days, and got a foot high. Dad put Juanita, Emma and me each in small metal tubs, and tied the three tubs together in a circle, so we were in a sort of boat. We were well prepared for the worst but, thankfully, we did not end up getting as much flooding as predicted.

On a hot summer day, I came up with the idea to play inside a nearby vacant house that was for rent. My younger sister, Juanita, was with me. . . I was supposed to take good care of her. Also my friend and her sister were along. I climbed in a small unlocked window, then went downstairs and opened the front door so my sister and friends could come in.

We were all playing in the laundry shoot when we heard voices and tried to be very quiet The realtor had brought people in to view the house. Naturally we were afraid and tried to stay still. They came very close to where we were all hiding in the laundry shoot. We held our breath and thankfully they did not catch us. It was a close call.

Among my friends were twin boys, Bobby and Ray. Their father was a veteran and recruited all 3 of us to stand on corners and sell poppies on Veteran’s Remembrance Day. Another of my friends, Lyle May, died young of appendicitis.

I was about 10 years old when I heard about a lady who lived near us giving tap dancing lessons. I really wanted to learn to tap dance so my oldest sister, Maris, offered to pay for me to take dancing lessons. I enjoyed the tap dancing lessons for about two years.

From time to time, members of my family and friends ask if we ever ran out of food during The War or The Great Depression. I really do not ever remember being hungry as my dad had a steady job with a stable company and mother was thrifty and cooked economically.

But one year we did not buy a Christmas tree. My sister, Cecile, came up with a good idea; “Let’s decorate Dad’s model yacht and put it in our window.” she suggested. A friend of Dad’s had given him a medium-sized model yacht and it was just the right size. So we did decorate it and it looked very festive.

We did not own a car until I was older. Dad took a bus to work and bus and streetcar to his boat on Lake Pontchartrain.

streetcar

Mardi Gras was always appealing to my sisters and to me. For many years, Uncle Finn and Aunt Abou lived not far from the big parades. We walked from their home to see all the excitement. M Also, small groups had their own parades that went right in front of the home where Uncle Finn lived. In addition, there were truck parades with floats. My sister Emma rode on a truck float one year. Everywhere, strings of purple and green beads were being thrown to those lined up to watch the parades. Fat Friday was always a big deal, the day before Lent began, and most partying stopped.

One day, I was invited to a birthday party for a friend from school who lived a bit further from our home than I usually went by myself. After we played a few games, her family decided to take us in their car to Café du Monde. It was my first time visiting this popular New Orleans Coffee Shop and my first time tasting their famous “beignets”. (Tasty deep-fried donuts with lots of powdered sugar sprinkled over them.) I really liked the beignets.

cafe new orleans

As it got later, I realized I had been gone quite a while and hoped they would soon want to leave. But I didn’t suspect I might be in serious trouble with my mother for being gone so long. When finally, they drove me home, I discovered my mother was extremely worried. She realized she did not even have the name or phone number of my friend so she had no way of checking to see if I was okay.

I was sorry to have worried her but the beignets were memorable.

One Christmas, several years, my niece, Joem, who lives in Gretna, near New Orleans,

sent me a box of mix to make beignets at home. My friend, Darlene, who also enjoys beignets, came over to help make them. It wasn’t easy and they did not taste quite as wonderful as the ones served at Café du Monde, but we really did enjoy making and eating them.

Joem is a woman of prayer and fervently prays for many people. Until she became too ill to attend, she was a faithful member of the catholic church near her home. Now her friend, the priest. often visits her and brings Holy Communion.

My sister, Emma, did not mind helping our mother with housework. . . in fact, she rather enjoyed it. But Emma felt it was only fair that I helped her help Mother. Sometimes I would let her know I didn’t want to, especially since she kind of enjoyed it. One day, she was ironing and I said something rather feisty to her. She came after me with the iron in her hand and I tried to dart out the door, just as our dad was coming in. Of course, I acted scared of Emma and Dad seemed to defend me.

Another time, my two oldest sisters decided to make fudge when Mother was not home. They tried to lock me out of the house but I climbed up the grape arbor trelise and crawled in a window. I said I was going to “tell Mother on them.” Perhaps I was hoping they would try to bribe me with some fudge. Instead, they grabbed me and said, “Let’s bump her.” They took me out to the front lawn and one grabbed me by my hands and the other by my feet. They began swinging me and bumping me on my behind on the grass. I think only my pride was hurt, but can’t remember if I did get any fudge or if I told Mother on them.

I remember one day I saw Emma running home crying very hard. As she got nearer, I could see big tears in her eyes. I kept asking, “What happened?” Finally she told me that our neighbor’s dog had been hit by a car and killed. The sight of the dog dying really disturbed her, especially since she knew our neighbor would be so sad to lose his pet.

As a young girl, I remember sitting in church and being impressed with my sister, Cecile, walking with other girls her age down the aisle in church wearing a blue cape. She belonged to the Legion of The Blessed Virgin Mary and took it very seriously.

One morning when I was in high school, I refused to get up and go to school. Mother kept telling me to get up. Finally I blurted out. “I want to go to business school.” To my amazement, Mother listened to me. Very soon. I was happily enrolled and attending one. After finishing my education, I got a job in the offices of Higgins Company. I was very happy when my Uncle Buddy (Mother’s brother), gave me a used 1927 Jordan car.

During most of my school years, Franklin D. Roosevelt was our U.S. President. (He was in office from 1933 to 1945.) Each Sunday our family listened to his Fireside Radio Chats. In fact, most of our neighbors did too.

President Roosevelt took a cross-country train ride to visit our nation’s defense factories. The day he was coming to New Orleans, I decided to walk to City Park, so I could see him. And I did get to see him, which was very meaningful to me. He visited the Higgins Ammunition Factory, which he highly praised. (Several years later, I got a job there.)

When my oldest sister, Maris, was about to have her first child, (Alfred, who was the first boy in our family), she asked me to come to her home in Memphis to help her. Maris had always been so generous to me so I was happy to be able to help her. While I was there, Pres. Roosevelt made his well-known radio speech announcing the bombing of Pearl Harbor by the Japanese. We were in shock.

Several years later, I was at home in New Orleans caring for my first child, Cheryl, when I heard another disturbing radio announcement.

President Roosevelt had suffered a massive cerebral hemorrhage which he did not survive. Again, it was shocking news. As I sat contemplating the implications of his death, I knew it was the end of an era! It was hard to even imagine having anyone else as our president since he had served our country for 12 years.

I also admired Eleanor Roosevelt. One of her most well-known quotes is: No one can make you feel inferior unless you give them your consent.”

In time, we got used to President Truman. He wasn’t as dynamic a speaker as President Roosevelt had been but we adapted. Truman was quick to acknowledge Israel as a state.

Mother’s political relatives. . . .

Victoria, my mother, was related to Hale Boggs, a New Orleans House of Representative Majority Leader, who went missing October 16, 1972 while on a plane over Alaska. (His father was my mother’s cousin. They shared the same grandparents). Mother attended his Memorial Services at St. Louis Cathedral in New Orleans.

His wife, Lindy Boggs, was elected to replace Hale in the New Orleans’ House of Representatives. Their daughter, Barbara, became the Mayor of Princeton, New Jersey. Another daughter, Cokie Roberts, became a Public Radio correspondent. Sadly, in 2019, Cokie died after a struggle with cancer.

When my daughter, Cheryl, was living with my mother and attending Louisiana State University, she kept up with the Boggs’ family. Hale Boggs’ body has never been recovered and the reason the plane crashed never solved.

Tootsie Boggs, Hale’s sister, celebrate her 104th birthday in April of 2019. We enjoyed a nice phone conversation that weekend.

My sister, Cecile’s, first job was for The New Orlean’s Girl Scouts of America. She wanted to become a Girl Scout Leader partly because she wanted to go camping. When she heard they needed a bugle player for morning and evening taps, she used some of her pay to buy a bugle. Then she taught herself to play taps. Sure enough, she was recruited to be a Leader and was always needed at the camping retreats.

This opened the door for me to become a Girl Scout. I, too, especially enjoyed going to Girl Scout Camp and having treats over the campfires. I wasn’t quite as fond of making some of the craft projects. My younger sister, Juanita, and I went to Girl Scout Day Camp together at City Park for several years, also.

Our entire family enjoyed gathering at my sister, Emma’s, home every Christmas Eve. Her husband had constructed a large party room on the back of their small home so there was room for all. We continued for many years.

A special memory is my introducing Juanita to her future husband, Bill. (I met Bill on the train when I was returning to New Orleans after marrying Maurice). They enjoyed a good, fruitful marriage. Bill always referred to Juanita as “my bride.” Over the course of the years, I had many occasions to visit Juanita and her family. She was a wonderful hostess, providing excellent meals.

Mother lived a long life. When she died at age 97, Juanita inherited her trunk of materials, and put them to good use. Juanita was talented in creating adorable handmade gifts. Each came with an appealing, appropriate poem about these being made with Mother’s material scraps.

When I was interested in dating, I met Maurice, a young man from St.Louis, who moved down our street. We were getting serious when he was drafted and sent to New Mexico for basic training in the service. When the time was near for him to be assigned to get into the war, he sent two train tickets for my mother and me to visit him. We did enjoy the train ride and then Maurice and I were married there.

He ended up being stationed not that far away, in Biloxi, Mississippi, I was able to go with him when he was stationed at MacDill Airforce Base in Tampa. By the time Cheryl was born he had been transferred overseas so was not in New Orleans.

Cheryl had a lovely doll collection, especially Bride Dolls. My dad made shelves for them, under the stairs. Cheryl was very particular about taking good care of them and if she allowed anyone to play with them she insisted they wash their hands. Her dolls stayed very nice all during her childhood.

Cheryl remembers coming home from school for lunch and enjoying being greeted by the aroma of banana toast.

By the time Jimmy was born, (my second child), his father was out of the service and attending Tulane University. My family especially welcomed their grandson as boys were still few and far between. Jimmy loved doing things with my dad, especially going on his sailboat on Lake Ponchartrain. Both Cheryl and Jim had several years to enjoy my dad but he died young at 61, so my older children missed those good times. Jimmy inherited my dad’s retirement pocket watch.

My mother, however lived to almost 97 and even built herself a new home, with the help of Alfred, her son-in-law, who was a builder.

Cheryl remembers a lovely afternoon when I took both her and Jimmy to Lake Ponchartrain. We sat on the sea wall steps together and enjoyed watching the sun set. After Cheryl shared this memory, I asked Jim ifhe remembers that ay and I was happy to hear him say he definitely does. He then described a memory of his own . . . having a nun yank and pull him by the ear to the office of the priest. Jim had simply passed out a Nesco candy wafer to each of his classmates while they

A few years later, it was my sister, Cecile, who welcome Cheryl and Jim to stay at her home in Long Beach, Mississippi, when Lem and I were headed to Biloxi to get married. She lived right on the way and gave us a few days to honeymoon. Cheryl enjoyed playing with Cecile’s daughter, Gayle.

Speaking of Lem . . .

eddie lem

My friend, Angela, moved to Biloxi where she worked for The American Red Cross. She met Lemuel Davis there and when he was transferred to the New Orlean’s Red Cross she gave him my phone number. Lem did call me and took me to the Officer’s Club to dance and get acquainted. Right from the start, we enjoyed each other’s company very much. Lem had served on a Submarine in the Navy in Australia.

Lem began coming over on Sundays and we took my children, Cheryl and Jim, to City Park. They enjoyed going on the merry-go-round.-These were fun days for us all.

Not too long later, we were married, on May 8, 1953. Then, Lem was sent to South Korea as a social worker by the American Red Cross to help soldiers adjust. I really missed him.

Marge, our daughter, was born while he was in South Korea. We lived on Spain Street in New Orleans. When Lem returned, he was transferred to Hattiesburg, Mississippi, where Mary was born. Then, not long later, he was transferred to Winterville, North Carolina

Our home in Winterville only had one room with air conditioning; our bedroom. But when it was really hot we invited all the kids in to chill out and watch television. Marge sometimes convinced Lem to pay her a dime to do his toes.

Jim got a job driving a mule team gathering tobacco leaves. When John F. Kennedy was campaigning in our area. I took Jim to see him in person. Marge was the only member of our family who worked for the company Lem was working . . . she did get a job in the mailroom at The American Red Cross.

Mary, Wesley and Donna were born in Winterville. Mary was 22 months older than her younger brother, Wesley, and as we were dealing with his unpredictable behavior, she was a tremendous help, especially when Wesley would get out of control. Mary was better at calming Wesley down than anyone else, including Lem and me. I asked the pediatrician to examine Wesley and she just mentioned he did not have much dexterity in his hands. She set up an appointment at Duke University and they spent an entire day trying to test him. They finally concluded he was “probably retarded” but too young to make an accurate diagnosis. Of course this was back in the 60’s before our current hi-tech testing equipment. We moved to Dayton, Ohio in 1963 and the move was especially hard on Wesley. Any change was very disruptive to Wesley so his behavior seemed to get even more out of control. His determination was almost unbelievable. He liked to go into the bathroom, lock the door, run the shower, undress and climb out the window, leaving his clothes behind. I would be running after him as fast as I could.

Lem and I took Wesley to a child psychologist who diagnosed our son as being “profoundly retarded,” and suggested he be put in a group home. I was devastated and said “Never.” During the weeks and months following this, Lem, I and Mary all tried to keep Wesley under control. Mary, being young and physically fit, was especially successful in calming her brother down. When Lem got home from work each day, he took over and Wesley enjoyed spending time with his dad. But the older Wesley got, the harder it was to control him.

Finally, after we moved to Florida, Lem and I knew we could no longer handle our strong and out of control son. Even Lem was unable to manage Wesley as he yanked down drapes and hurled lamps. It was hard for Lem to leave for work at his new job. That weekend we were desperate for help. Lem called the Governor of Florida who had been a college friend. Recognizing the urgency of the situation, the Governor made a call to a state group home in the Gainesville area. And even though new patients were not usually admitted on weekends, an exception was made for us.

A friend offered to drive up to Gainesville with Lem and Wesley, who was now 16 years old. It was a difficult drive but we knew we had no choice. And in the many years since, we have seen how well Wesley has adapted to the group home. Not long ago, we were enjoying a partial family reunion. His caregivers offered to drive him for a visit and we were glad he could spend time with us and be in a family picture. When it was time for Wesley to return to his group home, I worried he would not want to go. But he only hesitated a minute, then got in the van without a fuss. Clearly he has adapted!

Our daughter, Mary, developed a special interest in helping the mentally disabled. As a result she later earned a B.A. degree in Therapeutic Recreation for the Handicapped at Florida State University, her father’s Alma Mater.

Lem was determined to teach our children to plant a garden to grow their own vegetables. including cucumbers and tomatoes. So, everywhere we lived, he helped them learn to garden. Our youngest daughter, Liz, remembers planting watermelon when we moved to Florida. She was anticipating juicy red melons but was disappointed with the small, not as juicy ones that grew.

My mother, Victoria, often made special gifts for my children at Christmas. Margie still remembers an attractive dress she made for her that arrived in the mail in time for Christmas. . . a blue gingham outfit that Margie especially liked. As Mother and my girls grew older, she began making glamorous Barbie doll clothes. Donna can still describe the fancy outfits Mother sent. My boys, including Lem, looked forward to the homemade pralines she made and sent – the girls enjoyed them as well.

Being the youngest, Liz missed out on some of the homemade items but she especially remembers me taking her to Volusia Mall for school clothes, just the two of us. When Liz fell in love with Chris, he asked Lem for his permission to marry our Liz. Then he took Liz to a favorite restaurant in Jacksonvlle to ask her to marry him. She said “Yes”.

When Lem was hired by The American Red Cross in Dayton, Ohio, we had to stay in a motel until our house was ready. Donna made friends with a girl whose parents were in a similar situation. It turned out that Donna’s friend’s family ended up living fairly close to us, so that worked out nicely. In fact, after Donna told us about a dining room set they were selling, we bought it. Donna has a talent of arranging furniture so she could picture it in our house.

Donna especially enjoyed the winter weather and didn’t seem to mind it when it wasn’t that nice out. She enjoyed ice skating and most outdoor activities. In fact, years later she accepted a job in Minneapolis Minnesota. I visited her there, and enjoyed it but not in the middle of winter.

In June of 1973, Lem was offered a job at the Daytona Beach United Way. We moved to Ormond Beach, FL where I still live. It didn’t take Randy long to discover how much he enjoyed surfing. This worried Lem, so he decided to get Randy interested in fishing. That worked very well and, in turn, Randy passed his love of fishing on to his son, Brett. Randy and Brett often go fishing together. We have had countless fish fries through the years, especially since Randy and I share our home.

Randy also followed in his dad’s footsteps as far as making other meals on the grill, which I enjoy as well. He does most of our cooking these days,

Liz joined the Brownies and eagerly awaited being able to sell Girl Scout Cookies. “I can hardly wait to go sell cookies,” she said, the day before the cookie drive began. She was very independent and was the first to go out alone, door to door. to sell cookies.

When Hurricane Katrina landed in August 2005, two of my sisters who still lived in the Gulf Coast area, had to evacuate their homes mainly due to extremely high flooding. Emma’s home was flooded and had to be totally renovated, Their son, Jay, supervised the work. Since his dad had suffered a stroke, the renovations included making the home wheelchair accessible which was a blessing

Cecile’s home in Pass Christian, Mississippi, also had to be evacuated, due to serious flooding. My daughter, Mary, and members of her Methodist Church in North Carolina volunteered to help with the renovation process. Their hard work paid off and Cecile was very pleased with the renovations.

This all took a large amount of time, of course. It was good that both my sisters were satisfied with the renovation of their home and happy to move back in them. Flooding was the most destructive aspect of Katrina. In fact, the surge of floods exposed engineering flaws in the levies which gave way, some to 20 feet high. Millions of people were left homeless. Over 1,800 people died! Extremely large displacement of the population caused anxiety and depression. Some neighborhoods were never restored. –

When my children were young. I took them to the Catholic Church, as my own mother had taken me. After I married Lem, who was Methodist, he sometimes joined us.

When we moved to Ormond Beach, I decided to attend nearby Riverview Methodist Church with Lem.

For a time, I sang in the choir . . . after I went to the church to attend a Bible Study, but accidentally found myself at the choir room where they were rehearsing. I was encouraged to stay, so I did. For a while . . .

Later, I became involved in the church Thrift Shop, which I really enjoyed. This small group of workers volunteer to sort donated items and sell them. These funds make a significant impact on the church budget, in addition to helping those who can buy many items very reasonably. Recently, my body has been catching up with my age, so I am no longer active.

It was at Riverview Methodist Church where we met Beverly and Jim Lawyer. Bev invited me to attend prayer meetings at her home. In time, I served on the Board of Directors for her ministry, Logos Life and Light Foundation, in which I am still active.

Also, I have several other good friends from Riverview, including Betty, Jane and Evonne.

Throughout my life, in most situations, whether joyful or difficult, I have learned to trust The Lord. Even when His answer was not what I hoped it would be, I tried to accept His Will, knowing God would help me through every situation.

On Christmas Eve morning this past year, (2018), I asked my grandson, Brett, to drive me to my bank. When we got here, it tuned out they had just closed at noon. I was upset we had missed getting there before they closed early for the Holiday. “Grandma, look at the beautiful blue sky. It is such a great day.” said Brett. I did look up at the lovely sky and was blessed by his words. He was right.

Little did he know that those simple words would serve as a reminder of what I already knew was most important in life, appreciating God’s blessings.

A Bit of Family History

My father, Edwin, had a rather famous ancestor, a great-grandfather, named Valcour Aime who had owned Home Place Plantation House in St Charles Parish. Valcour operated a major sugar growing business, St James Sugar Refinery, which made him one of the wealthiest men in Louisiana.

( And looking back, we also had a sweet life that I am very thankful for)

His plantation also had one of the finest flower gardens in America. It was said to be inspired by Josephine Bonapartes’ English Garden.

Valcour Aime died of pneumonia January 1st 1867. Years later, his plantation sadly burned down, and even the gardens did not survive.

Only Put Off Till Tomorrow What You Are Willing To Die Having Left Undone – Pablo Picasso

Recently when I suffered a heart attack, it felt like someone had a pillow over me and my heart was beating very rapidly. I recall thinking ” I cannot die yet, I  have a children’s book to finish and several letters to write.”

I did not want to leave these things undone!

It was not about fearing Heaven, as I believe it will be a wonderful destination. After all, Jesus, my wonderful Lord and Savior said He was going to prepare a place for His followers!

Fortunately,  I survived the attack and had a procedure that was beneficial so now I am tackling my unfinished projects.

After I was out of the hospital, I was reminded of Picasso’s quote and it took on a new and personal meaning for me. You may not be in the same position as I was but I think we all have things that we keep pushing to the end of our list.

Maybe it is time we all start addressing those ” lists” from the bottom up?

Happy New Year to you all. I would love to hear some updates from you all as I have been away too long!

DM

“Suffering For Lack Of Knowledge”

One of the most memorable and meaningful experiences of God’s Grace in my life happened many years ago.  At that time, my two-month-old baby was suffering from a  harsh cough which seemed to be getting worse by the minute.  After taking him to his pediatrician, who was very concerned but unsure of  the cause, I followed his advice and took Timmy to a pediatric heart specialist.  He, too, was very concerned and considered my baby to be seriously ill, but was also unable to make a confident diagnosis.  The pediatric heart specialist recommended we get Timmy immediately to Chicago’s Children’s Memorial Hospital.  We lived in the northwest suburbs at that time, so were able to get him there fairly quickly

tim

However my critically ill son was not examined until countless forms were completed while he was vigorously crying, even turning blue from time to time, but not yet receiving help with his respiratory problem.

Finally, Timmy was admitted but once again, his illness was not accurately diagnosed.  Several doctors sincerely tried to identify what was causing his breathing difficulties and harsh coughing.  For several days they observed him, but the truth is, he was not improving.  Praying helped me remain somewhat calm, but fear of what the final diagnosis would be was overwhelming.  Timmy was still struggling night and day, just to breathe and the continuous coughing was wearing him out, yet he rarely fell asleep.

I stayed with my child at the hospital as he would be in danger of choking if left alone.  There was a severe shortage of nurses at that time and most of the youngsters in the hospital had to be left alone much of the time.

My faithful prayer partners and I fervently prayed around the clock for his healing.  One lesson I had read in a book by Catherine Marshall was about The Prayer of Relinquishment.  Actually, I had tried to push it out of my mind as it seemed too difficult to even contemplate at this disturbing time in my life. But, it seemed the more I tried to avoid even thinking about it, the more it kept returning to my mind. I didn’t truly believe I had strong enough faith to pray it and honestly mean it.   So instead, I continued to pray the same plea: Please, Gracious, Loving Heavenly Father, just heal my baby and let this dreadful time be over.  I will thank and praise You always. In Jesus’ name I pray.  Amen!          

Meanwhile, Timmy continued to gasp to get his breath, still turning blue.  It seemed to help when I picked him up and gently turned him upside down. But no improvement.

Finally, the power of God’s Holy Spirit came on me and gave me the courage I needed.  I knew it was time for me to pray The Prayer of Relinquishment.  After another short but seemingly fruitless visit by a new doctor, I fell to my knees in front of Timmy’s bed.  Struggling to be sincere, my prayer went something like this:  “Gracious Heavenly Father, Thank you for hearing this prayer. Thank You for this precious baby boy who is such a blessing.  Today I am intentionally surrendering him back to you.  He is Yours . . . Your will be done.  If it is Your Will to take him to be with You, I will still praise Your Holy name.  I relinquish Timothy Jon to You in the name of my Lord and Savior, your Son, Jesus Christ.  Amen!   

As I got back on my feet, I felt a bit of fear trying to overcome me, but at the same time  an even stronger sense of relief.  Nothing had changed with my son’s condition, but I did have a new feeling of peace in my spirit.

The next day, another new doctor stopped in the hospital room to examine Timmy. He was kind and gentle but did not offer a diagnosis.  Later that same day, one of the regular doctors came in with good news.  The head pediatrician had diagnosed my son with whooping-cough and had ordered gamma globulin.  Treatment would begin as soon as this medicine arrived. What a relief!

Once the treatment was started, Timmy began to improve rapidly.  Soon his health was restored and he was able to go home where his big sister happily welcomed him with hugs and kisses. He was no longer contagious and everyone was happy to see him well again.

We have never been able to solve the mystery of how Timmy caught whooping-cough. He had been given the first shot of the DTaP vaccine but doctors all seemed to agree it was doubtful it had affected his respiratory system.  I am not sure I agree with their conclusions about that, however.

And I may not know for sure until the day I meet Jesus in Heaven, face to face, if my finally giving up my son to God and asking Him for His will to be done, had anything to do with the accurate diagnosis finally bringing about Timmy’s recovery. Many very sincere believers pray similar prayers but have not experienced the recovery for which they believed.

It is my sincere opinion that the medical knowledge of the chief pediatrician who eventually made the accurate diagnosis and prescribed the right treatment brought about his recovery.

Praying sincerely for an accurate diagnoses and maintaining hope worked!

Lincoln Said It Right!

At the end of the devastating Civil War, Lincoln called for a spirit of reconciliation and an end to animosity.

“With malice toward none; with charity for all; with firmness in the right as God gives us to see the right, let us strive on to finish the work we are in; to bind up the nation’s wounds; to care for him who shall have borne the battle, and for his widow and orphan — to do all which may achieve and cherish a just and lasting peace among ourselves and with all nations.”                                   Second Inaugural Address (delivered March 4, 1865).

Hopefully, we as Americans can listen to his wise counsel and find ways to stop the violence.   Listening, learning and loving . . .may be good for starters.

 

Living the Wet Life

One of my favorite pastimes is swimming laps at our nearby community pool.  Early morning is my favorite and when possible bringing an inspirational book and a cup of coffee or water.

woman swimming

After swimming a few laps and treading water, as well as greeting other swimmers, relaxing in a comfortable lounge chair and reading is delightful.  Usually it is easy for me to shut out the activities and conversations of those around me. But not always.

Kids playing “Marco Polo” and other water games often get a bit rowdy until told by parents to “calm down”.  Conversations between youngsters and their siblings can be interesting, as are interactions between children and parents.  Most children especially enjoy playing in the water with their mom and dad.  Some children wistfully watch as parents of other kids join in the fun, while theirs do not.

After finding a set of 5 squirt guns on sale, I offered them to my granddaughters.  Three brothers arrived at the pool and noticed the squirt guns.  “Wow, first time I ever saw girls with so many squirt guns,” the oldest loudly said.  Soon all had one to use and they played well for a long time at the end of the pool.

kids at pool

One warm evening last summer, a large family including a mom, dad, brothers, sisters, aunts, uncles and cousins played energetic games of volleyball.  All the other swimmers at the pool were invited to join in. It was very inter-generational, as well as inclusive. Surprisingly, not even the oldest people at the pool complained.  It was refreshing to see such fun among several ages. It doesn’t happen often enough.

pool volleyball
I live two blocks from the beach and one block from our pool, and have found being near the water soothes my soul.  It is a good place to pray and think.

Jesus often walked along the Sea of Galilee as he taught his disciples. He even prepared a breakfast of fish and bread for them.

Once when His disciples thought they were lost in a sudden, strong storm, Jesus walked across the sea to help them.

Jesus taught us how to live ‘the wet life.

woman by ocean

Whats Your Bottom Line?

One thing leads to another.  After I posted about hearing Maria Von Trapp speak, then I remembered hearing Corrie ten Boom speak.  Finally, I remembered briefly meeting Joni Eareckson Tada, so I decided to write about her on the 50th anniversary of her diving accident.

What came to my mind is how distinctly each of these wise women communicated a strong Biblical principle they chose as their personal bottom line.

Also amazing is how clearly I remember their bottom lines,  a lesson to me in my own communicating.  But, what is my bottom line, my take home message?  Several Biblical principles quickly come to mind, yet if I had to choose the most important, what would it be?

Then I remembered a poignant book I read as a young girl.  It was The Diary of a Young Girl by Anne Frank.  In fact, I read it several times.  Anne’s short but intense life was memorable because she wrote down her feelings as she described her difficult situation.   She had been given an autograph book with a small lock on her 15th birthday, shortly before her family went into hiding.  She used it as a diary which was discovered in the attic of the home where they had been hiding.  It was given to her father, Otto Frank.  His wife and two daughters died in Aushwitz concentration camp.

When Otto Frank read the diary his younger daughter kept and realized she wanted to be a journalist, he decided to get it published. Her writings have educated and inspired countless readers.  From Anne we learn it is good to put our thoughts and ideas in writing.  Anne kept her faith in God and believed most people were “good at heart.”

As I put in writing my strongest beliefs, I am centering on the love of God and the inner peace of trusting in His Son, Jesus, as my Lord and Savior.  To clearly define my own bottom line, since the name of my blog is “Heresyourhope,” it is essential to begin with “hope.”

Now faith is being sure of what we hope for and certain of what we do not see. Hebrews 11:1

“Find rest, O my soul, in God alone.  My hope comes from Him.”  Psalm 62:5

 

 

An Amazing Woman of Faith

My young sons and I stepped into an elevator and realized we were sharing space with Joni Eareckson, whom we had just heard speak.  Although I only had a minute, it was long enough to tell her what an inspiration she was to our family.  She smiled and said she was happy to hear that.  Then the door opened and away she rolled.

It was July 1976, and we were at a Successful Living convention in Snow Bird, Utah. Joni was a featured speaker.  Her biography, Joni, had just been published.  In July of 1967, at the age of 17,  Joni dove into a shallow spot in Chesapeake Bay, and broke her neck. When we met her, she had been in a wheelchair for nine years.  Her beautiful smile and attitude were delightful.  Her smile and attitude are still delightful today.

Joni has a daily 5 minute radio program which airs early each morning,  Her messages are so inspiring as she delivers them in an upbeat tone.  Sometimes she sings a few lines of a sweet song with her lovely voice. Listening to her always brightens my day.

joni quote

Whenever my life faces difficult challenges, thinking of the countless obstacles Joni bravely faces helps me get a better perspective.  She and her very dedicated husband, Ken, were married in 1982, so recently celebrated 35 years together.                                             joni and ken

If being a quadriplegic isn’t difficult enough, Joni was diagnosed with stage 3 breast cancer in 2010.  It was a very difficult time, and her body limitations complicated her treatment.  But she was very determined to eat right and pray even more fervently.    Joni is an avid Bible scholar and has written many book discussing suffering and even Heaven.

We live in a time when we have access to many inspiring speakers and preachers.  As grateful as I am for their ministries, no person on earth has inspired me more.

At the end of her first book, written only eight years after her diving accident, Joni wrote, “I will be pleased if only one person is drawn to Christ. . .”  (as a result of hearing her testimony).  She said it would make being in a wheelchair worth it.

July 30. 2017 marks 50 years since her life changed when she dove into Chesapeake Bay.  During fifty years in a wheelchair, Joni has shared her inspiring story with people of all ages, all over the world.  She directs ministries to disabled children and their families.   And she is still going strong.

d.m.

Another Wise Old Lady

After the movie, “The Hiding Place,” had poignantly portrayed the true story of the life of Corrie ten Boom, and how she, her father and sister had been captured and tormented in a Nazi Concentration Camp for hiding their Jewish friends and neighbors, Corrie traveled around giving inspirational talks.

A friend and I thought we were going early to get a good seat, but it turns out we barely got inside.  Actually we were the last two to be admitted.  Corrie was amazing, and she was no young chicken, but “wow” what a message.  Her Dutch family had been arrested for hiding Jews and she was put into Ravensbruck, along with her sister, Betsie.   Betsie died fifteen days before Corrie was released.  Their father, Casper, had died ten days after he and his daughters were taken captive.

One of many powerful incidents Corrie shared was how, after the war, she was speaking at a large meeting on the subject of forgiveness.  Who should come up to her and warmly extend his arm to shake hers but the meanest prison guard from the camp.  He had become a Christian.  Corrie described how her right arm seemed to freeze at her side and she struggled to forgive this man whom she had seen be so nasty to her fragile sister, even as she was dying.  Finally, with the help of the Holy Spirit,  Corrie managed to shake his hand and accept his apologies. And forgive him.

The scripture Corrie emphasized so strongly the night I heard her, was Micah 7:19: “He will again have compassion on us; he will tread our iniquities underfoot. You will cast out all our sins into the depths of the sea.”  As she repeated it with her strong Dutch accent, it resonated firmly in my heart and spirit.                             She closed with this; “And God Puts Up A No Fishing Sign!”                                               d.m.

no fishing sign

 

 

corrie train

Maria’s Main Message

One day back in the late sixties, my friend, Lois, called to ask if I was free that evening.  I am so glad I was, as she invited me, and my 9 year old daughter, Pammy,  to attend a talk by Maria Von Trapp.  She was appearing at nearby Triton College.  Of course, I did have to explain to Pammy that we were not going to see and hear Julie Andrews and she did understand that.  Sound of Music had become her favorite movie, next to Mary Poppins.

Maria was entertaining and even more remarkably inspiring.  She had her audience laughing and singing.  Many were students of this community college but most were fans of Baroness Maria Von Trapp, coming from all around the western suburbs of Chicago.  Even back then, before it became “politically correct” not to mix religion with public events, Maria did not allow the fact she was not in a church to prevent her from giving a very inspiring faith message.

I can still see her now, dynamically and boldly proclaiming how important it is for every person to “know and to do the Will of God.”  She pointed out how, when she had been planning to be a nun and was sent on a temporary, short time assignment to teach children who had lost their mother, she was guided to seek what God’s Will was.

Maria discovered God’s Will was for her to become stepmother of these seven children, and not to be a nun. It is not always easy to know the Will of God, but it is worth seeking. Once we know what He wants us to do, it is important to do it. As Maria herself said ” to know and to do the will of God”.

dm

 

When Things are Black and White.

It was a sunny Sunday in June, 1960, when 2 other youth workers and I left the Chicago area to spend a week at a Youth Leadership Training School at Wartburg Lutheran Seminary in Dubuque. Iowa.  Being the youngest and least experienced in youth work, I was eager to learn as much as possible to improve my skills so had a healthy sense of anticipation.   Never did I imagine the education that awaited me!

As we were getting close to the seminary, the thought of going somewhere enjoyable for lunch was uppermost in our minds. On a small hill, overlooking the road, an affordable but home-style oking restaurant caught our eye.  In fact, it had been recommended by others who had previously attended this Leadership Training School.  As we entered, we were greeted warmly by two tables of pastors and youth leaders who had arrived just minutes ahead of us.   The home cooking signs and delicious smelling aromas convinced us we were at the right place to satisfy our hunger pangs.

We seated ourselves near the others we knew and glanced at the menus in the napkin holders.  But the waitress curtly informed us we could not be served as “we do not serve people of color,” so one of us would have to leave. Shocked, we tried to convince the waitress we were all just fine but the manager then ushered us out.  The other two tables of friends immediately got up and also tried to convince the manager to let us stay.  He threatened to call the police so everyone left, at least a dozen hungry customers.  This was a dreadful situation and we all decided to eat at the seminary cafeteria. Neither Ruth or I knew what to say to Fannie.  We suspected this was not the first time she had been treated so unfairly and rudely.  But for me, it was my first experience with outright racial prejudice.  It affected me deeply.

When finally we found the seminary and the cafeteria, it was Fannie who helped get us back to our mood of anticipation.  Her delightful sense of humor had us laughing and we actually enjoyed the cafeteria food and our friends who also congregated there.  She did not want us to be so disturbed that a damper was put on the upcoming week.

During the week, Fannie had a significant role in the training.  For several years she had been serving as parish worker in a poor inner city church and was able to give her perspective on many aspects of reaching young people with the love of God.   Prior to attending this leadership school, I had driven carloads of youth from my church to activities at her church. We had brought food and pizza and helped paint and decorate their youth meeting room.  I knew it was a rough neighborhood and on one trip, my tire was slashed. Fannie had to be very careful never to walk home alone. Fannie’s youth group had previously come to meetings at our church as well. But obviously we had not walked in her footsteps.

Since this time, over 65 years ago, it has been my sincere desire to be aware and actively involved in interracial causes and activities.  I enjoyed teaching youth and serving on the church board of a church in Tampa that is predominantly black. Now, living back on Florida’s East Coast, I love attending a church that is an amazing mix of African American, Hispanic, Asian, and White.  Thank God, some things have improved but there is still much to do.

dm