The Games People Play

Games. What comes to mind when you hear this word? The English language provides many different meanings to this familiar word. Whatever your current situation or focus is will determine which definition you think of first. Games can be played together at a table; they can be practical jokes played on someone not in on the game; they can be negative too, if someone you know is playing you in an immature or mean way.

I’m reminiscing a lot these days. Losing someone you love will do that to you. Since my brother passed away last month our family has been on a roller coaster of memories–all good–but each one has a sting to it since there will be no more new memories made. What was, is what is.

Growing up in the 60’s we played lots of games: swimming pool games, outdoor games, indoor games (if it was too hot or raining) and practical joke games. The latter was my brother’s favorite, by far!

As kids we rode our bikes all over Pine Hills. Our parents had no idea where we were and only required we come home before the streetlights came on. We spent lots of time in the nearby woods exploring, building, making up various versions of hide and seek. One of our favorites was, There’s No Ghosts In The Graveyard, and had to be played after dark.

My brother’s favorite hobby was to scare me, and he excelled at it!

The way the game was played was to pick one person to be the ghost. You hid somewhere while all the others counted to 10. Then the whole group would start walking around chanting, “there’s no ghosts in the graveyard” over and over until we got close to where the ghost was hiding. The ghost would jump out and yell, “Yes there is!” and everyone would scream and run to home base as fast as our legs would carry us. If the ghost tagged you before you got home, you were the ghost. Being afraid of the dark, I never wanted to be the ghost. Hiding alone waiting for the group to get close was scary to say the least.

Which leads to why I was afraid of the dark in the first place.

Once again my brother took it on himself to help me overcome my fear by making me face it–over and over again! One way he did this was to hide either in my closet or under my bed at night. He would patiently wait for me to crawl in bed and turn the lights off before he’d jump and scream like a banshee. This would always be followed with howls of laughter (his) and uncontrollable tears (mine). One would think I would get used to it, but I never did.

Fast forward to 1975 when the movie Jaws hit the big screen. My brother was being extra nice and asked if I wanted to go see it with him and his good friend. I should have been suspicious at that point, but I was also very gullible. Another trait of mine he loved to hone in on.

Unbeknownst to me Billy and his friend had already seen Jaws. We got to the theater and they had me sit in the middle. I was enjoying their attention and had no clue, until it happened. When Jaws appeared for the first time, my brother and his friend knew it was coming. They both in stereo screamed and grabbed my arms. I was terrified. And they were entertained, more by me than the movie.

Games. There are so many more we played as kids–rotton orange fights in our grandparents’ groves, hopscotch, splash (our own version of Marco Polo), and Horse-played around our basketball goal in our driveway.

When my brother and sister started driving the games elevated to the streets–Chinese Fire Drill was played often and with tons of laughter. I haven’t thought of this game in years and I’m wondering why the name? Here’s what I’ve learned…

The term goes back to the early 1900s, and is alleged to have originated when a ship run by British officers and a Chinese crew practiced a fire drill for a fire in the engine room. The bucket brigade were to draw water from the starboard side, pass it to the engine room, and pour it onto the ‘fire’.

source: Wikipedia

Who knew we were acting out a moment in history? We just were having fun.

Life is like that. You think you’re just having fun, but at some point you realize we were making history–our own family’s history. This means more to me now than ever.

What games did your family play as you were growing up?

My Brother, My Friend

My brother died on a Monday. It was unexpected. He was supposed to get better, but he didn’t. We were left reeling from this new reality and aware that we had to plan his Celebration of Life service. It would be small–immediate family only. But good friends made it possible for us to offer a Live Facebook of the service as well as a You Tube video available now at the bottom of this post.

Following is what I shared. I have much more to say about this experience and what God is showing me through the sadness, but not yet.

Bill Gray – 1954-2021

I want to thank all of you who are joining with us on-line how much your prayers and encouragements have meant to our family these last 5 weeks. It has been one of the hardest seasons we’ve faced and you have helped carry our burden. Words seem inadequate, but it is all we have to give. Thank you.

I am Debi Walter, Billy’s little sister, and Bettie is Billy’s older sister. I am sharing today on behalf of both of us what my brother means to us. Bettie was born in 1953, Billy in 1954 and I was born in 1959. My Dad was a pharmacist with his own store and soda fountain. It was a great time to grow up. 

Billy took great delight in teasing both of us as often as he could. But I still believe I got the brunt of most of his attention. He made up all kinds of games with the excuse of being able to tease us. Like “Flinch”. If he acted like he was going to hit you and you flinched, then you had to let him hit you. Being 5 years younger I usually let him and had the bruises to show for it. I’ve heard he was a lot like my grandfather. They both loved to fish and loved to tease those they loved—unmercifully.

Billy and his good friend invented the group hug. But it wasn’t a pleasant experience when it first began. If you were caught in the middle between the two of them it always hurt. But they laughed and I learned to laugh too. Now the group hug has become a tradition in our family whenever we are saying goodbye. No one ever knows who will end up in the middle, but the younger ones fight to be caught in the center of it all. Lots of love goes into those hugs. Like holding on tight because we don’t want to let go.

Another game was a take on the pool game Marco Polo. But instead of calling out “Marco” with your eyes closed, you called out “splash”. Wherever you were in the pool you had to splash. The idea was to tag someone making them “it”. I always managed to be “it” because I wasn’t fast enough to tag anyone, especially my brother or his friends. One time I remember being caught between two of them while they both splashed me. My brother accidentally splashed my ear and caused my ear drum to rupture. He felt bad and I felt worse because I wasn’t able to swim for the rest of the summer. I was often the casualty of his games.

It’s strange how stories from when you were young that used to cause heartache, become the very things you’re grateful for as adults. 

My brother loved me and my sister very much. But I didn’t realize this until we were adults. Being the baby of the family I know I was bratty. I most likely asked for much of the undesired attention he gave me. 

On family vacations I would always end up in the middle of Bettie and Billy in the backseat. Invariably, Billy would say, “Hey Bettie, want a fight between you and me?” And they would both start slapping me. I would cry. My Dad would yell for us to stop. And Billy would grin in my face, bragging that he got me.

Yeah, that’s what we did on road trips before iPhones, screens and DVD players were available in cars. We played games, sang songs and ate candy my Mom packed from my Dad’s candy counter at the pharmacy.

When Billy went away to The University of Florida (Go Gators!) My sister was already married to Dennis, so I was home alone. I missed him so much. And I think he missed me too. He sent me a card once that he had drawn of our toothbrushes side by side. His had racing stripes on it and He said he couldn’t wait to have tooth brushing races again. It sounds silly, but as a 15 year old this card meant so much to me. It was true the adage that says, “distance makes the heart grow fonder”. It certainly did for us.

He graduated from U of F the same year Bettie graduated from nursing school at Valencia, the same year I graduated from high school. Major events for all of us that prepared us for our life ahead.

Our family attended Powers Drive Baptist Church. This is where we made many lifelong friends. Many of whom are watching today. It was at this church where we each were saved, baptized, and married. We grew up realizing the power, love and support there is in being in a community of believers who love Jesus. We are so grateful for the impact this church and its members had on our lives.

In 1978 Billy found the love of his life, a cute blond named Sherry Newmons. He brought her home to our house for Sunday afternoon dinner. We could tell this was the one he had waited for and we fell in love with Sherry too. At this same time Tom and I began dating and got engaged too. Once again we were doing a major lifetime event together. In 1979 we got married only 5 weeks apart. My poor parents! They never complained about how difficult having two weddings so close together would be. But it was fun sharing this season of life together.

All three of us had our children at the same time, which was fun watching cousins become friends.

That’s our history. When my Dad died in 2004, my brother took on the role of caring for us in the ways my dad had—providing medical advice and help whenever it was needed. He helped us through some very frightening times, most recently with two of our grandchildren. I’m so grateful for the way he loved us, cared for us and was there for us.

My sister and her family are here today and I know if she were able she would also talk about their adventures. Bettie and Billy had a special bond. They were only 14 months apart so they did everything together. Just recently Bettie and Dennis and Billy and Sherry went on vacation to see the Ark Encounter in Kentucky. Tom and I were unable to go, but I am so glad they had this time together. The photos and memories they made are precious today.

I don’t know what the future will look like without Billy here to make us laugh, give the best hugs, share funny stories, offer support or to help us in our times of need. But I do know that Billy would tell us all—what really matters is this – make sure we know and love Jesus by living our lives for Him and his glory.

Billy is seeing his Savior face to face and I believe if he could he would say, “Whatever you do make sure you are ready when it’s your turn to enter eternity. Live for Christ! You never know when your days on earth will be over. Make every moment count!”

I’m Being Robbed

As a writer I have noticed something that concerns me. It is the affect social media is having on my limited, daily amount of creativity. All the interactions with others–their thoughts, their photos, their humorous GIFS, etc…are robbing me of my ability to write well and often.

So what do I do?

The answer is obvious, but it goes against the flow of our culture. To not be engaged on social media feels like I’m on a deserted island while everyone I know is across on another island having a party. I have never liked to miss the fun, and this is proving that to be true.

But I still have writing goals and desires.

Anything worth doing is worth doing well. If social media is taking a toll on my worthwhile goals then I must rein in my freedom in this area.

I thought being home so much would have increased my writing. But I was wrong. The only thing it increased was time playing my favorite games (Words with Friends and Design Home). I know this because I have a screen time monitor that lets me know how much time I’ve spent each week on my screens.

It all comes down to discipline and making wise choices. I also need to set goals and limits on time wasted. We all need down time. But when down times begins to rob productive time, it’s time to make needed changes. This will benefit me and hopefully those who will read what I write.

My Smart Phone has a feature under screen time that allows me to limit the amount of time I use certain apps each day. I am going to start something I’ve never done before. Hold my screen time accountable.

How is screen time robbing you of creative energy?

“Take imagination breaks…Relaxed attention is one of the most important states of mind for creativity, and sometimes it has to be learned.” – Nita Leland

Total Eclipse of my Heart

Eclipse

Photo by Jude Beck on Unsplash

It has been over a year since I’ve written a post. I’m sorry. 2019 was a difficult year in many ways. The first half of the year was hard, but the second half of the year was 100 times worse. I wasn’t sure if we would make it through without devastating losses in our family.

But God! He was my comforter, my sustainer, my guide and my hope. 

I was excited to begin a new year. 2020 seemed to start with bright prospects full of focus.  We began by cleaning out closets, drawers and our entire kitchen. Having lived in our home for 27 years it was time to tackle this as if we were moving. We loaded up a car full of items to donate which felt so good. We were on a roll…

But God! He had different plans.

He knew all along that this year would be interrupted with a world-wide pandemic. We have been sheltering-in-place for 6 weeks now. One would think we would have our home completely organized and clean by now. But one would be wrong to make such an assumption. It seems 2019 was a partial eclipse that lasted longer than a normal one. Then 2020 arrived with a total eclipse–an eclipse of my heart.

Last year our family was unable to gather together due to many health restraints. This year we are unable to gather together due to a worldwide lockdown. I am tempted to be sad for the times together we are missing.

But God! In our sadness He wants to draw our hearts closer to Him.

And He has. An eclipse makes you realize how much light is available even at night. If you take the moon’s reflection of the sun away, the night is so much darker. I am grateful for the moon, the stars and the glorious sunshine. Life has slowed, but my heart is no longer eclipsed. God’s kindness has dawned brighter and brighter to us, to our children and to our grandchildren. The two words that mean so much to me now are…

But God! He has slowed our schedules to enlarge our hearts towards Him.

He is the our bright and morning star bringing with each day new mercies from which to draw. And His mercies never fail.

How is God helping you each day? Let’s share and in so doing bring Him the glory He deserves. 

 

 

 

Let Love Live

I’ve recently been affected by friends who are facing the greatest grief this side of Heaven, the death of a loved one. My Mom and Dad both passed away around the holidays, as well as my husband’s mom, making this time of year emotional for me. I haven’t moved on from feeling the pain of the loss, but I’ve grown as a result of it.

Grief is necessary and there are no rules as to how each of us deal with it. The thing is to know what to say when a close friend or relative is facing such a loss that you’ve yet to experience. There are helpful things and hurtful things, but all mean well even if what is said brings a sting with it. This is why we often don’t know that we have hurt someone by our response to their pain. They usually don’t tell you, they just become silent and pull away.

A dear friend lost her husband last week. She has shared some of her pain on social media and many responders have said exactly what she doesn’t need to hear. “He’s in a better place”. “He would want you to move on with your life.” And so on. Instead we need to come along side those as they grieve and let them cry. The Bible provides the simplest and best advice…”Weep with those who weep.” (Period). Even Jesus did this with Mary as she grieved her brother, Lazarus’ death. And Jesus knew He was about to bring him back to life, yet Jesus paused and wept with her.

Why did He do this?

I believe He was setting us an example of how to best help someone in their suffering. Let them cry. Let them talk about their loved one. Let them continue to miss them and acknowledge that their life mattered. Even if it makes you uncomfortable, maybe even causes you to cry, this is the best we can do for those grieving.

I found this Ted Talk by Kelley Lyn titled, When Someone You Love Dies, There Is No Such Thing as Moving On. It is only 16 minutes long, but Kelley provides excellent ideas on what really helps a friend who is facing such a loss. If you or someone you know is grieving I pray this video will bring comfort to your heart this holiday season.

I kept the memory of my grandmother alive who died in 1979, by writing her story in my historical fiction novel, Through The Eyes of Grace. It is my tribute to the woman who had such a profound influence on my life and all who knew her. Doing such things let’s love live through our memory of those who have passed away.

May this Christmas season be one where you receive tidings of comfort and joy, even if joy seems far away at the moment.

Cherishing Us, A Legacy of Marriage

Marriage has always been important in my family. In fact I can’t think of a single divorce on either side. That is quite unusual this day and age, and something for which I am grateful.

On my parent’s 50th anniversary I remember being amazed at how many years of marriage were represented in the room. The total was in the hundreds, and it caused me to pause and thank God that I had been given such an example to follow.

My husband’s parents were divorced on his 18th birthday. Divorce is never easy on the kids no matter how old they are. Something he didn’t want to happen, happened, and it was sad for all involved. As a result, my husband was determined to make our marriage a priority through the years, and by God’s grace we have.

This past February we published our first book to help marriages continue to grow. It’s titled, Cherishing Us – 365 Marriage Tips to Help Your Marriage Grow. This week we are offering the Kindle edition in a Countdown Sale. Beginning at 8a today, the price is only .99 cents for 24 hours. On Wednesday the price goes up to $1.99 and on Thursday the price is $2.99.

If you are married and want to learn more of what it looks like to cherish your spouse, we hope you’ll make this small investment for a huge benefit to your relationship and for the children who are impacted by the quality of the love your share.

I am grateful my grandparents and parents both shared 57 years of marriage before death parted them.

My sister and her husband just celebrated 45 years. And my brother and his wife, as well as Tom and I will celebrate 40 years in a few months.

God has been good to help us to stay the course and keep our marriage vows alive. We pray our book will help you say the same in the years to come.

It’s The Little Things

Today I’m feeling a bit blue. Maybe it’s because I’m not feeling great. Maybe it’s because it’s the time of year when both my Mom and Dad were diagnosed with the disease that would take their life, 6 and 15 years ago respectively.

I have finally started to write the sequel to my historical fiction novel, Through The Eyes Of Grace. It is causing a fresh wave of grief to pour over my heart that usually sabotages any attempt to write.

But not today!

Instead, I’m lifting my head up and making me a cup of hot tea, Lavender Lemonade to be exact. Tea soothes away the hurt, both in my throat and in my heart.

And I will say a prayer of thanksgiving to God for giving me such wonderful parents, and for providing me with a story worth telling.

Today I’m choosing JOY.

The Day I Ordered My Coffee Black, A Short Story

Coffee Meme.jpg

I am a part of a writer’s group that has been together for the past 15 years. Every Wednesday we are given a writing prompt to help us keep our creative inspiration flowing. Today’s prompt was one that immediately got my mind thinking…

Writer’s Prompt: The girl at Starbucks who always gets a caramel macchiato orders black coffee today.

A man of quiet strength, he had been the one who kept Jo grounded when her world seemed to be spinning out of control. Her Dad was confident in her ability as a writer. This infused her with determination to meet his expectations. Even as the rejection letters mounted, it didn’t sway his belief that her voice was something special. Yet, on this day of all days, Jo was struggling to remember the sound of his voice, and it left her fraught with anxiety. What daughter forgets her Dad’s voice after only three years? If his voice faded so fast, would she forget her voice too? What if she never knew her voice? Was it all a facade visible only by her Dad’s faith in who she could be?

Tormented that his death would cause a similar death to her future, Jo decided she needed to get outside. She was hopeful the fresh air would stimulate her thoughts.

Fall was living up to its name as crisp, colorful leaves descended in cadence to the sidewalk below. Jo gathered her jacket around her neck to ward off the chill. Instinctively, she walked to the corner for her morning pick-me-up. As she waited in line she remembered the countless times she and her Dad had met here to go over her latest plot. He would smile as she read, not so much because he loved the story, but because he loved its author. A tear started to fall, which she caught with her sleeve before it had a chance to show itself to a watching world.

She discovered why she was struggling this Father’s Day. It was the reality that no one was watching her, and no one cared for her as he had. She shifted in line reading the food offered on the rack where she stood, hoping to forget. Jo realized her anxiety had followed her, and it was impossible to run fast enough to get away.

She let out a sigh when the barista asked, “What can I get for you today? Your usual?”

She recalled the countless times her Dad had answered this question. In his gentle, reserved manner she could hear him say, “I’ll have a tall, coffee. Make it black, please.”

Her memory exploded alive along with her Dad’s voice.

“No Caramel Macchiato for me today.” Jo thought to herself.

It was Father’s Day and this one was for Dad. Along with his voice came fresh inspiration. The title of what she would write next, “The Day I Ordered My Coffee Black”.

Prompted to Remember

(Photo from 1962, Silver Star Pharmacy)

I am a part of a writer’s group that provides a writing prompt once a week in order to help us keep the creative juices flowing. This past week’s prompt led me down an unexpected path. The following is the prompt and what I wrote in response.

Wednesday Writer’s Prompt:

What place, or kind of place, elicits fond memories of the past?

Opening the door was an entry to my childhood. A time capsule bursting open in celebration of what once was.

The soda fountain served guests a daily special prepared by our beloved cook, Flossie. She was like a grandmother to me, always making sure I had enough food in my belly to fuel my curiosity. The clattering of dishes passing through the triple sinks to wash, rinse and sanitize were the background music of life in my Dad’s Pharmacy.

The regular customers provided a cadence call of life in our small town, beckoning us to participate together in life’s difficult moments.

But the center of it all was my dad’s caring heart. Each customer knew they had a faithful friend who would sacrifice time with his family in order to provide for their needs in crisis. He listened to their laments and carried their concerns to God in prayer.

But that was then.

Sadness cloaks me with a familiar comfort. Gone are the customers, the needs, the community of friends who called my Dad “Doc”. Gone are the rich smells of comfort food served with a smile. Gone are the days of my childhood.

Yet the memories linger as I sign the paper ending an era. Soon this building will belong to someone new.

(Photo from 2017)

We will go our separate ways to live our dreams and provide for those to whom God has given us to care and provide.

Tomorrow’s memories are being written on the walls of today. Each day matters; make them count for eternity.

April Is National Poetry Month

Photo by Dawid Zawiła on Unsplash

I’ve always enjoyed writing poetry. In fact my first writings as a child were simple rhymes. I love the challenge of finding the right word that says what I want it to say. Dr. Seuss took license here and made up his own words and characters that rhyme. Some we’ve all grown to love like Cat in the Hat, Yertle The Turtle, Horton Hears A Who, and everyone’s beloved, Grinch.

There is a challenge for writers this month called NaPoWriMo, which stands for “National Poetry Writing Month“. Those who are participating are writing a poem every day for the entire month. That’s a bit much for my schedule, so I’m going for once a week, maybe. It depends on whether or not my creative energy is available.

I’ll heed the advice of my favorite poet…

“Think left and think right and think low and think high.

Oh, the thinks you can think up if only you try.” – Dr. Seuss

Instead of writing poems that rhyme, I’ve decided to write prose. I hope you enjoy this one.

Sweet Fragrance Of Unity

A pleasant warmth brushes my face as I inhale the morning air.

IT WHISPERS,

 “Winter has at last fallen asleep”, tucked beneath the black dirt of the garden bed.

“Tread lightly,” it cautions.

Hope, peeking through the soil as a timid flower, is unsure of the climate.

Thunder clouds gather like opposing views bringing with it

winds of threat and cloudy accusations.

Meant to harm, yet providing something needed…

RAIN 

As the

words

fall

from

the

sky

of lofty

opinions,

some run off rejected

a torrential flood of judgment.

Other words

                        S

                        I

                       N

                       K

                       deep, bringing with it gentle correction.

The solar sentinel ever present though not seen, 

sends out rays of help

chasing the clouds of accusations away

like a faithful friend.

SUNSHINE

A second look and hope has emerged safe and at attention

in response to the steady cadence call of the sentinel in the Sky.

Gone are the threats.

Spring at last.

The garden has learned to embrace only words which nourish the soul,

thus filling the air with a sweet fragrance of 

UNITY.

Do you enjoy writing poetry? Have you ever tried? 

“If you never did, you should. These things are fun and fun is good.”

– Dr. Seuss

___________________________

My new book that my husband and I have written is now available on Amazon